Southern Woman Prayer

Fires in the south
felt that dark and felt that sad

felt the void and the holding ache
prayed the prayers for the Lord to take

looked up and saw the falling veil
better know where you stand these days
and way down south here

nothings ever really changed
some of us been saying this for years

just no one cared

because we are way down here

well if weird things happen

its gonna happen in the fire and rain

Georgia thunderstorms

and valley’s of the pain
where in the red dirt remembers
some how I’m blessed to remember you

something in a southern song is I’m singing to you

simple as it is, its crazy and simple things

looking at southern lightning seeing what it brings

yesterday southern woman prayed for you

because she looked up and saw the veil

and felt the pain

felt the sad and felt the Cain
prayed that thing out 
It was placed on her by God
pray for them that dont understand
pray for them that

just cant

had to get her mind on straight

standing on her own two feet again
standing when maybe you cant
praying the way, a southern woman does

cant help it 

its in the red dirt mud

its in her spirit

its in her blood




Southern Comfort

We never meet a stranger
Because we know who you are
Even if we staring
It’s just because we haven’t seen you before
And we never hear a new thing
It might just be new to you
Tell it over sweet tea or coffee
By day
And a night it’s bourbon and lemonade
Rain on the tin roof
Talking about some wreck
Whatever kind of wreck it is
Talking about black cats and superstitions
Talking about Sundays and black days
And high fired opinions
And here
Way down here
Where things change
But everything stays the same
Ain’t no strangers
It’s a southern comfort thing
Out in the city
That the bigger cities make fun of
I sit in windows and listen to the same kinds of things
No matter where you are
It’s always gonna be the same
Just a different wired world
But it’s our world
Talking about the people
That pretend we aren’t here
And talking about the good old boys
And cheering on the men
With their new shiny toys
And southern girls
Can make you feel like the world
But it’s only after they drink and talk
And consider that you really are the world
Passive aggressive and hyperbole
It’s the way we run
And the way we run
Is a different kind if free
It’s rain in a tin roof
And sweet tea women in the day
It’s fire opinions
And by night it’s bourbon and lemonade
It’s bourbon and lemonade
And we never meet a stranger
Unless you just want to be
Hey welcome and pull up a chair
In a humid southern night
When it’s as cool as it’s gonna get
Get your sweet drink
And talk about things ain’t happened yet
Work and men and women
And lemonade and bourbon
And God and cigarettes
In the quiet part of the USA
The loudest people
Know the southern comfort
That comes after a southern day

Wind times

Whatever’s real and realities
Reality is fantasy sometimes
Just showing us what is real
Talking to the wind
And seeing how that feels
The wind might carry
Something that can’t be said
Or coming back and feeding
What hasn’t yet been fed
And those moments that our ours
And words that don’t make sense
To anyone but us
On one kind of refuge
And silent comprehend
For a little while
It’s a little while longer
And in a way
We step back and let the wind
Do our talking
And feeling outs
I’ll kiss the wind for you
And know in a lines lined realm
You’ll get it
While the wind flies us to home
And you are never ever
Really alone
And the rain it’s coming
Washing some clean
And washing some out
Nourishing some
And drowning others out
Something about the rain
It always speaks to me
It Rains on us all
It’s all in how we perceive
And I’ll kiss the rain for you
In whatever rain you are in
Smile for me
In reality some don’t know
And know in some ways
You are never ever alone

The crescent

And the wails
And the primal screams
The prayers sent
Over loss and dreams
Many feel the discord
And only a few get to the source
The crescent is coming
The crescent is coming
It’s not a they
But it’s a tool
For the ones at the top
Wanting to weed you
Take it to the beginning
And raised you in a space
Make you see indifferent
Or make you writhe in hate
And the crescent is coming
The crescent is coming
Don’t cry against them
All though we fight the wars
Over there
Over there
Keep your eyes over there
And you won’t see it
When it hits your door
The brand new cleanse
And the brand new whores
Still in the plans
Still in the works
And my people pray anyway
Pray the tunnel that lets you out
Pray the still place we read about
Because the crescent is coming
The crescent is coming
I wasn’t your enemy
And I never was
But the heat is prepped
And the camps built
It was already told
But the masses
Gave out and sold
Make them feel secure
And make them feel safe
Distract them while
The game gets staged
And the crescent is coming
The crescent is coming

Wild Fire and Windows

Because this wild fire
Gets down to embers sometimes
And thunder doesn’t even produce rain
And this wild fire gets reckless sometimes
And sometimes needs a quiet same
Hey give me my window
For the reflection
Give me my window
For my space
And give me my window
Out side the commentary
Out side of the tyranny of shoulds
And out side of ordinary
Because this wild fire
Burns out sometimes
And this wild fire forgets what she’s burning
Always firing and always learning
In the reality of what’s gonna go down
The real raw deals
And the excuses and the the steals
Give me my window
And room where I make it right
Give me my window
Where I’ve got my free time
To seek and pray
Or rant and write
Real or not
That view is mine
If you don’t hear the song
It wasn’t for you anyway
Because this wildfire
Sometimes burns real bright
It’s not the way it was planned
It’s just the way it goes down
Didn’t ask for permission to burn
Those borders down
So give me my window
Where I can get the view
This window ain’t about dues
And if you get the invite
There was only a few
Maybe a quiet sameness
Must have been burning there too
Get your smoke and thoughts together
There’s a space for you

November 2012

Sometimes we deal in emotions
Trying to place blame
Trying to figure out our ways
And just trying to count instances
Explaining how we spend our days
I’ve been through all that
And it really doesn’t matter
That battles over isn’t it
And still the missing sometimes shatters
Still waters gather and they just make their own their own weather
Close my eyes and I’m in a night
Sometime in a November
Before election days
And I miss you
Things could have been different
As always things could be
Grown child never as grown is not really seen
We are always like a child
In some kind of way
And those moments hit us in the absence
And I miss you
I know there are no questions
Not where you are now
And everything is understood
I don’t un bury those things that wonder
And I don’t dig up old bones
To pick with you
Guess I’ll always be the good girl
And the first born
And always just like you
Sometimes in some way
But on some nights
When I close my eyes
I’m at a house in the dead of night
And it’s November
Before Election Day
And I hear your rants
And so glad you can’t see the future
Because where you are there aren’t questions unanswered
And I know you know
The question of love and missing
Is complete
As love and missing should be
Some things could have been different
And sorry is sorry they weren’t
Lessons in life usually are later learned
And sad little embers
Come back and burn
Your laughter and tears
Your unwavering stances
And misunderstandings
Doesn’t matter
On that still night in November

” I think we are always five years old, in the presence or absence of our parents”- Sherman Alexie


Went to the show
Didn’t like that movie
As much as the trailer
But don’t get too in your head about it
Things get lost up there
Saying things that shouldn’t been said
And after it’s out there
Well it just is
Is what is till it isn’t anymore
Finding that ruler
Measuring the place
And measuring the score
What’s mine is yours
And what’s yours is yours too
So hard to draw those lines
And protect the few
And I heard the delegates
Talk about the regulates
And the sky high ceilings
While they fly this plane into the ground
The surface wars fighting the surface words
While the siege builds their camps
But don’t get in your head about it
Things get lost up there
Wanna keep anything
You must be insane
Woman in Syria chained to the ground
Woman here silenced about it
If you are on the wrong side
Of the political divide
Don’t want to make a war on words
And don’t want to make wars on boys
While the real deal offenses are ones we never see
Getting real
Seen the trailer
Didn’t like the movie
Don’t get in your head about it
Hell you might appreciate that you were already free
And recognize what’s lost once it’s gone
And there really is a siege