Roots

Well, I sang songs about love

about redemption, freedom

and unrequited romance.

They sang about parts of their body

we have been told to cover up

in society.

The ones who taught me that

didn't listen to a word of what I said

and went their own way-

I now realize they're fools,

haughty pretentious wallabies.

If I'd sung about the parts of my body

they told me to cover up

there could have been more who heard what I had to say.

'So change man!'

'But roots man!'

Roots anchor you and then kill you too.

What irony.

Backwash

The dreams stopped

I just lay,

incapacitated

languishing

predictable.

Venerated as my most precious,

the dreams obliviated;

rendering me reversed

almost precocious.

Do I need to do everything again?

Reset?

Re-dream?

Re evaluate?

Relent?

The wall meets fist

The wall meets head

The wall meets foot

The wall meets screams.

It's the valley

the backslide

the backwash

the downslide

the upside down

for a while.

And while I feel so

everything will feel so.

Because what I am

the world is.

How I am,

the world is.

Today is not gratitude day.

It is just a monstrous Saturday.

Music People

At some point

we've all had long

or just longish hair.

We've identified

with legends

on stage playing

to stadiums filled with thousands

or in quiet rooms with a handful

of people mesmerized.

We've woven tunes around words

stitched words around tunes

danced to ugly beats

headbanged to angst

been spellbound by lyrics

or relaxed to slick jazz.

We have struggled

to grasp new technology

and spent our money

on instruments we didn't need.

Inspired and gotten inspired

at the same time

and written and composed endlessly

until something clicked.

Some of us made it.

Some of us strayed.

Some of us got married

and settled down with the music itself

and some of us

chose to let go.

Whatever the choice,

find your music, okay?