freedom isn’t caught in the frame
but by the taker
seeing, breathing, believing
by something moving
Writing, Ideas, & Stories
freedom isn’t caught in the frame
but by the taker
seeing, breathing, believing
by something moving
i don’t hate what you did
you can’t help it –
free swimmin’ being
comin’ into our lives just sightseeing
just to leave with a feeling
we’re just human beings.
i won’t hate
i understand
you stung me
& you fled away
we took the elevator to the top floor
sunny day, we came to play, in my arms till we’re all gray.
wondering how we got this high
in the middle of july
you beautiful monarch butterfly-
and than you were gone.
flew away too a city not far away.
i can’t cross that border
elevator out of order;
floor 99 these stairs are loud
95 the people form a crowd
92 i can’t remember how i got here
84 maybe i should just disappear
why the fuck is the elevator out of order
is this my disorder?
62 i wonder if the people that wrote Dexter realized it was bad
58 mj’s greatest hits and we start bad
i can hear the rain outside
droplets searing like cyanide
44 chest beating like a drum
than why do i feel so numb.
52 i can hear the sound of your voice
pretend that my words are from joyce
sit around sing clap an rejoice
66 here is good- i like here,
safe from the rain and the sun
nothing can touch me today
just the eye of a seer
when all is said and done
i don’t want to block the walkway
last winter
was the first time
in a long time
i felt genuine warmth
field of vision
narrows
constant barrage of injustice cannons
sharpened swords surround sweet serenity
red snakes tighten their grip
on a future for pirates
below deck
drown
just waiting
by an ajar window,
listening to the flute player two floors up,
for a sign.
now;
it’s been two weeks
and the flute player is gone
window is closed and i found my lost muse.
friendship level one oh two
keeping the battle going
from an open window
thinking about that flute player and their return.
i believe in you
chillin’ on Watkin’s street
fading way into next week
falling at the knees oh i’m weak
will be here till next week
after that
no guarantees
they only love me when i produce
putting a message together
stringing days together with a meaning
writing,
words don’t come when you call,
trapped inside a podium
waiting for a speech.
here is it goes;
i’m doing my best fuck off
the world is burning
the world is burning
they still couldn’t snuff it the second time
or the fifth
they never learn
that we
want to walk the same street
as everyone else
two months ago
they threw us in cages
locked away the key
hidden under
under
nothing, floating concepts
thin layer of blue fabric
and six feet apart.
two months ago
we had to re learn
what was important
how to live
self sufficiently