Mine

Rough hands gentle
In the cold he’s so warm
Rough edge voice
In the quiet he’s so calm
Takes my want
And let’s the woman run free
Burns with fire
And runs with the woman in me
My man holds me like I’m woman
Yes my man holds me
Like a man
And talks to me like a friend
Gotta get under this mess
Like God sees under under the masks
And like a beloved to a beloved
Seeing through the smoke
Right to the flame
My man holds me like I’m woman
My mine holds me like a man
Talks to me like friend
In quiet rhymes
Behind the storms
They make in these troubled times
My man
When he is mine
And things we can’t explain
maybe only makes sense unexplained
who can describe
the smell of color
or the sounds of fire on rain
and who can give heart
like the listening soul
rough and rugged
my man
tenders solace
my man
my man when he is mine

Drawing

The weather

Getting to the real

real real thing here
when the wind blew
and it blew cold

and I held to you
and when it rained and rained hard

I felt for you

and when it was hot

and to hot to breathe

I breathed in you

and somewhere in the haze
some fires grew

and I grew too
does anyone ever really grow up

when we think we have the answers

some questions give us up

yeah sometimes we think we have our walls
and we shield ourselves

but somebody calls us down

and then we fall
touch touches touch

and tears melt on tears

laugh laughs back at the what the hell

what the hell is happening here

we do things we said we’d never

to heal things we already thought were better

and stand outside our fences

and look back on our old defenses

and laugh at the laughter there is
and maybe what is is all there is

but  I’ll never be sorry cause
maybe we never grow up
growing up is just not enough
when we think we have the answers

some questions give us up
and learning the answers is hard
when you try to move
and to move just means there’s some kind of pain
but growing pains leave a bruise
but in the rain I called for you
and in the fog sometimes I felt for you
came down from my walls

and let myself out of the stalls
and we made some songs
in our halls
getting to the real

real things in how I feel

maybe we never grow up

never get all the answers
and maybe nobody does

but thanks for the weather anyway
thanks for the sun
and thanks for the rain

Progress

If you are gonna run
now is a good place to start

before you get some kind of feeling

or feel something in the heart
hey these days women can do it just like men

display for the display and getting in on the lay

but in all that is to be seen

does anyone ever touch and does anyone ever see

gettin laid for gettin laid getting sun for one lat ray

well if you’re not gonna stay

now is a good place to run

people do it all the time

ain’t got time nobody has the time
and time runs out and wells run dry

better run before you’ve got no time
and we talk a deal about repression and fear

and we talk a deal about oppression repression or depression

all the masks of ways we get ourselves out of feeling

can’t take that time to touch and see
see and feel anything

anything

so much skin in our vision we dont even see it anymore

so much laughing about love we don’t even feel it anymore
it’s progress you know
progress you know
and all the time we waste trying to get to next place
gotta have something to fight
and something till

and the definitions keep changing

no one knows when they are in prison

when they just want to their rights to the key

talking about the better places you never even seen
so no one recognizes when they are already free
just victimize they’re own space

waking up alone

and nowhere to belong
and need is such a bad word

cut off from the other
callous to the strengths that make us we

and vulnerabilities that never had the strength to be heard
robot women made their own stepford life
dressing and killing for each other
and the men just died

it was progress
just progress
of the stillborn life

The fires are what the fires are

and sometimes they are for burning down pretenses
and then sometimes they are man made
to distract in a bunch of masks pretending

while the real fires burning down the world

the world we see

and the world we know

and the way it gets displayed
one would think we all were born in hate

we all have got something to pay
and the debt collectors are painting our skies

with selective speech
built on a lot of lies

that don’t represent the people here on the ground
who are friends and lovers
and just trying to make their own sounds

you’re my brother you’re my sister
but if we took some sides we wouldn’t be
and if we took some defines

would we even see
see what they don’t want us to see

like we must have been born in hate

and hate must be what we believe

and Farrakhan calls for blood

and the emperor looks on like he didn’t

add the laws and like he is a victim too
and the people on the ground

just going to work and singing and laughing

and trying to live against the force of trying to force us
to cry for blood too
somewhere in the middle
the real voiceless with nothing left to give

hey they been seeing the real thing for years

in all the man made fires
they still cry those tears

but out of sight out of mind
doesn’t really fit any agendas

there isn’t any fit of fury for them

here on the ground
here on the ground where we make our own

fires of love and life

just trying to live and trying to get by

and while we we were defining what couldn’t be defined

the emperor said nothing

had too many papers to sign
too many fires to start

while we were trying to defend ourselves

against some theatrical definitions