I want to see you

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

It’s the thunder
Hear the thunder
So I can greet you

It’s the fire
See the fire
So I can greet you

It’s the mother
Feel her rivers
So I can greet you

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Stop
Why are you calling me?
Speak
Why would you bother me?

The rumble the rumble roars
The flaming the flaming flares
The serpent the serpent swims
The people the people sing

Tell me tell me your name
And I will dance
Tell me tell me your name
So we can drink

Tell me tell me your name
Earths will open up
Tell me tell me your name
Skys will open up

I do not want
I do not want to fall in
Protect me
Protect me from the edges within

Come come come to me
And we will dance
Come come come for me
So I can dance

Dance dance the darkness out
Dance dance the winds out
Dance dance the devils out
Dance dance misfortunate out

I call on you to stop the shivers
I call on you to hear the moon
I call on you to calm babes’ cries
I call on you when mountains shout

I want to see you
So I can greet you
I want to see you
So I can greet you

Good night good night
It’s the night
I want to see you
Tonight tonight

I want to see you TONIGHT!

Owl of Freedom

Take me to Haiti
I wish I was there now
put me on a boat
throw me on a plane

send me off to Haiti
Papa
send me off to Haiti
my mind is too weak

I couldn’t say how
I wish I knew how
something in the breeze
I feel it shaking in my heart

sweet airs of freedom
free me from the weak
and cowardly face
looking out of a mirror

I don’t see how
courage will find me
but it might, Papa
when I set foot in Haiti

like an alligator standing in a forest grove
waiting for the blessed blood of the future
I’m shivering, Good God
and the owl of freedom eludes me

as they play the drums
boom boom
as they play the drums
took took in the mountains behind the mountains

paint me a picture of Haiti
sing me a sweet song from Haiti
that’s all I have left, Good God
an image, a sound, a poem, a dance

a dream, my dream
or yours?
What are they worth?
What am I worth?

a student, a pilgrim, a loafer or a thief?
am I lying to you and myself?
no matter, leave some rum at the crossroads
and wait

hearing the train go by
hearing the wind go by
hearing the rain tap tap
and longing for Haiti

tell me again about victory
Papa, tell me again
I am nothing alone
we are nothing alone…

Looking up at the Moon

I remember looking up at the moon
bright yellow wondrous light
beauty

I remember looking up at the moon
and longing to cradle it
and say

My dear everything everything
is going to be alright
alright?

Why are you crying so
you who birth the day
mother to life?

I can’t explain what I saw
looking up at the sky
a chill?

A sadness a loneliness
a burrowing fear
I don’t know

But I felt deep inside me
all of love’s pain
in a glow

Preoccupied we forget
oft neglected orb
as you grow

You show us memories abandoned
other days other times
other eyes at play

We forget too many important things
understand too little
and suffer

how we suffer

Yet the moon is always there watching my dear
so shed no lonesome tears
just look up

She won’t take pain away
nothing or no one can
but she knows

Apology of a Dragon Rider

“I like to ride dragons. The breeze in my face. The warm scales below my butt. What can I say? It’s an experience everyone should live at least once.

“Some people might say it’s wrong, but they’ve clearly never been on a winged-beast going 350 kilometers per hour. Or seen a monster breathe fire onto a truck until it burst into flames. Or devour the charred remains of — well, sometimes it’s hard to tell what it was.

“Don’t tell me that dragons belong in the wild. What does that even mean? Is there such a thing as a flying reptile’s natural habit? Or better yet, is there anywhere that isn’t? Who am I to say? Mankind always wants to interfere in nature’s business and for what?

“The truth is the opposite. It’s humanity that belongs in the wild. We could stand to lose the smattering of societal pretensions that hold us down. Our true self can’t be found sitting at a desk or a table or walking a dog or driving past countless indiscernible street-tied banalities.

“But serpentine flight can take us there.

“Haven’t you ever felt that your life could be so much more?

“Lock me up if you must to justify the fear burrowing into your guts, but don’t call it abuse, don’t say I didn’t love and do everything I could for the creatures. Don’t call me a criminal! I let them fly where they wanted, eat what they wanted, kill, mame or burn down the world itself if it pleased them. They were taken care of.

“The feeling was mutual.

“I discovered who I am and what I’m truly capable of? Have you?”

He was led away slowly to await the jury’s decision — they found him guilty of course! Did you expect a different outcome? That poor child was dead after all.

On the appropriateness of knives in cathedrals

I don’t know what you mean
you mean
It’s like
Can’t feel my spleen
I’m bleeding

Came up to me
Said you wanted to worship
Feel free
But it hurts though
Like a dagger in the thigh though

Don’t know what you even mean
you mean
My pain is thirsty
For company to snort it up
Just playin

You’re looking worried
Worried
Don’t mean to hurt you
Just trying on words
Searching for that right fit

Fuck it
Fun is the wrong word
I’m trying to survive
Down on my knees
If it please you

Let go
And I’ll show you what I mean
I mean
I’m not what I seem though
There’s more I swear

It’s not much
But it’ll eat you up
Rawness
Is the name of the game
Or just skin rubbed red on the floor

Why can’t I feel the floor?
Beauty is overrated
When the sun is burning it off
Your prayers are outdated
Open your eyes

Faith in God
And revolutionary dreams
Funny shapes and the color green
It’s why I’m not dead
Busy looking for that tickling breeze

Pacing on the train

A young man was pacing on the train, shouting, banging on the seats.

“Do you know what I’m doin’ when I get home? I’m gonna read the Bible.”

Passengers flooded out into neighboring cars.

“You gotta read it front to back, not back to front.”

Other passengers quietly continued their conversations and avoided eye contact. The train was stopped at the station, and the doors were still open.

“You might be a Muslim or believe in Buddha, but you still pronounce the Lord’s name when you stub your toe. Why?”

A blonde woman in a pink baseball cap stood up and peered out of the car.

“Hey! This fuckin’ asshole keeps hittin’ things and scarin’ people.”

The young man turned to her.

“Watch your language, lady!”

“I thought you stood for free speech.”

“You’re calling the cops on me.”

Two police officers stepped into the subway car on either side and grabbed the young man by his scrawny biceps.

A man in a suit stood up and faced them.

“I am a preacher too!”

The cops said they were just going to speak with the young man. He’d be able to take the next train.

The man in the suit sat down and the doors closed. I think he was Kenyan.

“God may not shout, but he’s still taking note of everything you do.”

He tapped the briefcase in his lap and sighed. The train started moving, and the passengers nervously studied each other.

An African-American man in blue shorts walked over.

“Look, brother, I get it, but you have to understand that in America you can’t force people to talk about God outside of church. People here believe in all sorts of things.”

A Salvadoran woman, who had been quietly listening, jumped in.

“But they didn’t do anything about the lady who was cursing.”

The train had reached maximum velocity, and the doors were rattling.

“Well… that’s true.”