please

please furious sun

burn out our lying hearts

set us free

new blood through old veins

to sit in the dark,
to swallow the humid wind,
to face the unknown,
or recall where you have been,
to build a set of beliefs,
or to see through them,
beautiful souls tangled in a twist of sin,

to go deeper,
is to go beyond
to be without,
is to go within,
to loosen,
to listen,
to open,
to overcome yourself,
is to begin.

wherever

"I'm so sad," she said,
"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked,
"I just need to escape...leave myself, y,'know?" she replied,
"Why are we so alone?" he asked himself under his breath,
"There's others here but I feel like I'm behind glass...and I want to break through..." she stated,
"Maybe you need to move out of yourself, touch the pain...your strong enough to do that," he replied,
"I don't know..." she said quietly,
"Look," he said pointing at the night sky,"the stars...contingent, apparitions of what was...like the spirit they eventually leave no trace."
"Where should I start?" she asked,
"You can start where we are...between the grit and the grace," he replied,
"so wherever?" she asked,
"Wherever," he replied.

hang back

didn't stay long for Ben Harper,
The Roots were enough for me tonight,
they gave me what I was missing,
what I needed,
rawest of funk, soul and blues,
amongst the weed clouds,
white stars,
city scape,
sandals,
dreadlocks,
and titty bouncing tank tops,

together but different we are,

the illusion of unity,

the reality of interdependence,

changing chords,
changing thoughts,
Questlove breaks the chain,
with heavenly hits on the piccolo snare,
I hang back and let the bass vibrate my supper,
and watch drunken boys try for drunken kisses,
from their distracted texting girls.

low souls

the void always itches,
a nagging lack,
the trembling voice of cold streets and colder people,

a failed economy,

a failed environment,

a failed church,

a failed community of empty minds,
wasting breath on useless conversation,
and silly superstitions,
trying to ward off their narcissistic fear of unrealized entitlement,
drilled into their modern western minds since childhood,
by "parental units,"

seems like everyone gets married,
and moves into a bubble,
everyone gets divorced from their friends,
to be with their spouses,
but,
there is still a community...

of low souls,

they live where the nights are lonely,
and the days are worse,
wading through leftover lives,
broken hearts and insane lovers,
they continue to breathe,
create and build with what's been discarded,
and continue to fellowship and grow,
with those whom the Almighty, Vengeful and Jealous God has withheld his blessing.