Sing The New Song

If living were a thing that money could buy, the rich would live and the poor would die.~Folksong ‘All My Trials’ (origin unknown)

The changes are upon us but we don’t know
caught in the momentum of I told you so.
Old ways are dying.
Forced-scarcity profiteers are crying.

Listen, you might fret and mourn
sifting cold ashes, quite forlorn
Imagine no possessions, it’s easy
when you’re immersed in creativity.

Meanwhile the news is spinning a false web
designed and fueled to enslave your poor head.
Leave them to their self-created sorrows.
breathing the new air of our tomorrow.

Open your heart to welcome meanings new
wealth and riches arise in front of you.
Information only wants to be free;
As our intentions matter we will see

Flow our natural state, we rise and sing
each note essential, our voices ring.
Reclaiming the ground seized by the elite
we leave no being behind in penury.

We are each other, separate no more
it dawns on us–oh, of course, we share
giving a pleasure to receive. Owning
was an evil plot to deceive.

We’re graceful as only the free can be
unlock each moment with abundance keys.
The plutocratic hoarders cured of greed
We hold each other in our times of need.

Inspired by:Hoist, Momentum Ashes, Graceful, and many songs of freedom. I’m back in the air today, mulling over the chorus for this emerging song, which I’ll record soon!

What You Resist Persists

In my last few hours with this tropical place
Imma tryna freestyle, a topical ace.
What you resist persists, we might as well
praise all the sick and twisted faces that yell
about the need for war, for sanctions
and torturous hell. The populace anxious
and fractured, the spell of separation
the lack of reparation. Dread
capitalism rearing its dying head,
thrashing while the activism feeds
its fire. Do I attract your ire?
Look, we can’t fight against the war
machine, every battle adding benzine.
The situation is dire. We’re up in arms
but that’s more of the same,
just a different spin of the game
’cause we need something to blame.
The solution is dawning just out
of sight and the bridge to the new
world is a write away. Each verse
you say leads us to claim all
the evils we’re afraid to name.
What we deny rides our back
never cuts any slack. We point
accusing fingers at the obvious
zingers. So much greed rooting
in the fear we hold so dear.
Face its tentacled embrace
so this year love will appear
give the all clear.

Inspired by: Few, Freestyle, Praise and Year.

Soundcloud recording here.

Telling New Stories

Someone’s been telling you stories, and they just ain’t true.~Dan Fogelberg

Here in the chaos of dismantling
the grip of greed, we need new

myths like heroines channeling
the bones and roots our great grand-

children will discover, digging
in another time to uncover

the resilience of Gaia. They
won’t waffle, trapped in lies

of separation, our intrigue here
a mystery–why did they hide,

they’ll likely ask, when told
the stories we are crafting bold

and leaping from the tangled knots
that we believe enslave us

and deprave us, suddenly caught
in a flash of light, insights

streaming–we’ve been dreaming!
Looking deep into our very

essence, we sense the connection
so clear outside our manmade

boxes fear designed. We’re out
of time. Each breath we presence

now becomes the gift of freedom.
How our ancestors loved us,

they’ll exclaim, our true words
reaching far beyond our graves.

Inspired by: Myth, Resilience, Intrigue, Waffle, beautiful and mysterious Spanish moss
and the need for us to shift the narrative and create new myths right now for the sake of all of us.

Soundcloud recording here.

Nod to the ‘stache

The men in my lineage are quite resilient
growing mustaches thick, luxuriant
like medieval heroes, valiant
flag on their upper lip salient.
Here they come to save the day, persistent
gene passed strong and insistent.

Inspired by: Valiant, Resilient, Salient and Mustache.

Betwixt and Between

“The world cannot be translated; It can only be dreamed of and touched.”~Dejan Stojanović

Soundcloud recording here.

In civilized company, I forget
the animal sounds I uttered in sweat
giving birth. That epiphany groaning
like a goddess instantly transformed
my self-perception informed that I am
woman, fierce and guttural, no longer
immersed in the deception of a pretty
thing. And no chagrin as I connected
to the earth, my purpose clear: to
mother this new life emerging in a
shocking strife. When life begins
and when it ends, we shatter.
The fragments of our created shell
no longer matter. Right now in this
dance betwixt and between, ears open
I am listening. A silent dog beside me,
both alert to early spring. Mating
red-tailed hawks chwirks and squirrels
kuk. Bluegrosbeak warbles a duet
with a Carolina chickadee’s fee-bee-baby.
How I wish that I could speak these
ancient ways, not cluck or twitter
cackle or jabber, a pure heart
sound offered and received. I am
a foreigner to myself and all my
cousins, listening in mystery
feet on the ground, as all
around me, beings praise and call.

Inspired by: Forget, Chagrin, Perception, Epiphany and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Animal Sounds. The rules of SOCS are stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write. And even though I write fast, Saturday writing is always a source of chagrin as I watch my wandering thoughts spin out of control. Fun times, though. Try it!


She’ll Only Come Out At Night

Today in paradise I peer
through glass, looking out
my front door. My muse falls
into flowers praising morning.
I’m wary, casting careful
eyes on the woods, just there,
where black bears lumber
and bobcats spry and shy
leap into trees. Respect
is due. Butterflies and blossoms
and my meditative ways may
soothe the overwhelm of travel.
Far away from my comfort zone,
I’ve landed
barefoot in a new day
feeling the earth’s generous
embrace–a walker strides by
checking her pace, ears plugged
against the sweet and subtle
birdsong–it’s early still.
Some days I rhyme myself
to balance but last night
breath protested my constricted
places, as intimate lovers
will, dedicating the long hours
of darkness to struggles of will
finally waking bleary-eyed and
silent, alert for any signposts
leading to love’s healing light.

Inspired by looking out my front door at dew-kissed blossoms, Muse, Spry and Glass. Happy 02202020!

Soundcloud recording here.

Get Well Soon

I don’t mind raising a ruckus
about injustice, people called
luckless when in fact they’re
strangled at birth, the future earth
a tangled rumor they have heard
but never felt,
trafficked by greedy manipulators
of belief. It’s tragic. The rich
construct an idyll for arrival
if only you work hard for just
another cycle, betray your brother,
deafen your heart to your soul’s
calling, you’ll be falling
on your feet tout de suite.
I share this improbable bloom
this glorious hibiscus just for you.
Celebrate your delicate beauty
available here today, the way
through the hustle of
unintegrated past that masquerades
as future, beckons, preens
triggering a chance to be seen.
We’re swimming in collective trauma
eyes open in the midst of drama,
reaching out to those swept away.
I cannot save you. I am revealed.
Hiding enslaves you so I’m
calling out the crimes, being
with my flaws, intent to heal.

Inspired by: Rumor, Traffic, Cycle and Ruckus.

Soundcloud recording here.