blue
i feel the cool chill settle
like dust on the surfaces my bones construct;
i feel the blue light seep deep into me
a warm cup of tea radiating
into the cold tones left behind by winter.
and im standing on our side street stoop
my head resting itself sideways
against a paint-chipped, yet sturdy column;
one that holds our roof up.
im mesmerized by the methodic thump thumping
of the train rolling by
on a perfectly sweet dusk of solitude;
i've been here before
and i'll be here again
and the beauty in it is me.
if i am a bird like i say i am
flying finely through terrains of rocky weather
(which from down here would have me paralyzed
knees locked and knobby
planted awkwardly in the ground);
if im flying
i must be a hawk so big,
so graceful like.
and the whole world
is just what it is;
and somehow i wound up here;
and somehow with wings
and eyes
and the power comes from understanding
that women fighting together
are something fierce as the sea;
and the dust below us
is somethin shiftable as sand
when put into
the right hands.
as i wrap a shawl around my shoulders
with its silken softness
draping me in the toughness that flowers bring
my eyes soak in my surroundings;
softened, as they are
by a moist fog
and the trance of comfort amongst discomfort;
it takes me closer
to the solitude
that living takes.
i don't consider myself alone
coz as time passes my convictions
just grow stronger,
and every overturned stone
reveals the wet of water
flowing in the radical creeks of history,
adding to this expressionistic mosaic
that is me.
so it goes on
little by lots
and days conglomerate into eras
and where once i was in love with this
i stand to be corrected
coz somewhere a twist happened
and soon i was in love
with that.
but my heart was my heart the whole time
and it grows like a strong tree
knockin down fences and telephone wires
making its own way
while defying the laws of men.
see my passion guides me
and not like you might think
it aint rational or realistic,
aint fragile or free;
it's the pressure that pops
like a champagne bottle;
i spill out over myself
till im dripping and drunk
and my body so full
at the end of the night.
it's something to hold onto;
sometimes i dont sit long enough
to hear the blue jays voice
their alien-beautiful songs.
only a few times at twilight
and a few times at dusk;
sometimes the only times
i can get myself to hush.
like dust on the surfaces my bones construct;
i feel the blue light seep deep into me
a warm cup of tea radiating
into the cold tones left behind by winter.
and im standing on our side street stoop
my head resting itself sideways
against a paint-chipped, yet sturdy column;
one that holds our roof up.
im mesmerized by the methodic thump thumping
of the train rolling by
on a perfectly sweet dusk of solitude;
i've been here before
and i'll be here again
and the beauty in it is me.
if i am a bird like i say i am
flying finely through terrains of rocky weather
(which from down here would have me paralyzed
knees locked and knobby
planted awkwardly in the ground);
if im flying
i must be a hawk so big,
so graceful like.
and the whole world
is just what it is;
and somehow i wound up here;
and somehow with wings
and eyes
and the power comes from understanding
that women fighting together
are something fierce as the sea;
and the dust below us
is somethin shiftable as sand
when put into
the right hands.
as i wrap a shawl around my shoulders
with its silken softness
draping me in the toughness that flowers bring
my eyes soak in my surroundings;
softened, as they are
by a moist fog
and the trance of comfort amongst discomfort;
it takes me closer
to the solitude
that living takes.
i don't consider myself alone
coz as time passes my convictions
just grow stronger,
and every overturned stone
reveals the wet of water
flowing in the radical creeks of history,
adding to this expressionistic mosaic
that is me.
so it goes on
little by lots
and days conglomerate into eras
and where once i was in love with this
i stand to be corrected
coz somewhere a twist happened
and soon i was in love
with that.
but my heart was my heart the whole time
and it grows like a strong tree
knockin down fences and telephone wires
making its own way
while defying the laws of men.
see my passion guides me
and not like you might think
it aint rational or realistic,
aint fragile or free;
it's the pressure that pops
like a champagne bottle;
i spill out over myself
till im dripping and drunk
and my body so full
at the end of the night.
it's something to hold onto;
sometimes i dont sit long enough
to hear the blue jays voice
their alien-beautiful songs.
only a few times at twilight
and a few times at dusk;
sometimes the only times
i can get myself to hush.