Who am I

he flew with the swallows,from chimney to god!and laid down with wolves,just to feel, to know…the nearness of flesh,and the feel of teeth!

the whole countryin turmoil…too many mouths,open and needing….too many souls,pounding the streets.too many promises,broken for profit…too many children,honest eyes staring….too many boysshipped home in bodybags, , , ,too many prisonersby expendable choice.too many empty houses,too many homeless….too many prayers,that no one hears!

a song that wears a human face,dust from a distant star.a river that flows from heart to heart,a fire that feeds itself.a ship unmanned on stormy seas,the hand that rings the bell.a child is born, a friend has died,and so the circle goes on.the memories of the outstretched hand,lives in the stillness before dawn.i cannot…

faces peeled,razor knives.hands cut off,feet bloodied.mouths open,gulping air.eyes plucked outby the lies.souls barteredfor a cup of rice.flags burning,bodies strewn.the well oiled wheel,turns in spite.no god,could bear to look!

everything!we are empty rooms,kissing shadows with names.we shout, then are shaken…and small things weep.while eternity burnsin fires left untended.the face in the mirror…be it god, or death?

when time and years and chapters,testify in tired feet?the wars have ended,the guns are now still.even the storm left,a candle lit by the bed.do i know you?do you know me?or are we the sound…of doors opening and closing?i cant say your namewithout something in me dying…i cant see the sky,without seeing your face.are we so…

would your heart race?would the moan of the windexcite you, make you tremble?would you see me in the shadows?if i made love to you with rain,would you stand in it tillyou were drenched?would you take off your clothes,let the water run down your body?would you kiss the clouds that bring?embrace the lightning?ride the great peels…

early morning February sun!people stand and gawk,by the old tracks, train forgotten…childhood memories, up in smoke.they call it America,the land of opportunity;freedom weeps, no one hears!cars built overseaspowered by Middle East oil,race by, headed for Walmart…and tonight they’ll debateover family values and taxes.somewhere, a church bell ringing,and someone goes to bed hungry!

that didnt….over battles i fought and lost,over lovers that walked away.over loved ones that diedtoo soon, always too soon.over kingdoms i built that fell.over mistakes i madethat i cant change….over dreams that werent real….but, dammit, every timei see the face of a hungry child,dont matter what color, or where,dont even matter whose child….i cant help…

the stones on the path will nothurt your bare feet….the fire will not burn your hands.eyes fly like crows across distance,be it across the room,or across the world…and pages are writtenwith the pens of angels,to be thrown into the wind.my heart cries for deliverance…your tongue rests against my arm….seize the moment, for there is no…

a broken wagon wheelspinning in the sandsmoke rising froma fire already deadbells tinkling in the windon the porch of anabandoned housetrain tracks, no train!words i have writtenwith a pen dipped in blood.

on the pile…the possessions that owned you!all of your memories,your prejudices, your acts ofvengeance and greed…all the things you think you needed…your rights, your wrongs,your halo, your guns…your patriotism, your pride,and the doors you locked…all on the pile,without looking back…set the fire!

a firm voice spoke:‘keep your eyes open,look, and see! ‘he saw dark skinned children,their bodies frail and thin,their features carved with hunger.he saw women and children,running from the bombs,young men gunned down,in the streets.he saw the homeless family,sleeping in a beaten old car,hoping no one would cometo make them move.he saw the young addict shaking,the…

used by the fewto control the many.

and let’s go walking thruthe streets and alleys of America….let’s walk past the empty houseswith foreclosure signs in the yard…past the vacant factory buildingswhere the homeless break inat night and sleep…past the lily white churchesand the dead zone schools…past the county jails and the courthousesand the rooms where lawyersbuy and sell justice…past the housing projectswhere…

if the shadow of god was just that,and the ants declared independence.if the moth died for the cause,and the wolf roamed free again…if children buried guns in sandpiles,and women gave birth on the grass.if the sound of leaves turning resonated,and mountains walked at night…if the smell of the fire was for all,and every bowl was…

coughing up spit, and avoiding shadows,of small minded men followingthe legend of the phallus,to early, and inconvenient deaths.gulls swing over in drunken glaze,we bend to pick up a broken shell.naming it ocean, we place it to our ears…as the incoming tide swirls at our feet.shark fins, and the bodies of dead fish,the stink of salt,…

the wind whispering to the trees…the body you long foris only the night undressingthe lonliness of the living…the hand you reach foris that of the dawn…bringing the simple promiseof hope!

i feelwith the conceptof God as Motherand the less i fear death!i’ve said it before,i’ll say it againfrom the wind and raini cameto the wind and raini will returnnothing else needed!

dirty hands.feel the blood, wade through mud,you know a manis just a man.not what you gained, how hard you strained,but what you gavewithout looking back.the simple things, the human dreams,two people walking,one set of tracks.children of the stars, destiny calls.climb over hurdles, walk through walls.what can be held holds what cant….beggers, scoundrels, and saints!

55 hours a week.getting up hay, milking cows,and them cotton millswe worked in…family member to family member,generations of workers.no running water,carrying buckets up the hill,spiders on the outhouse wall.the hoe, the shovel, and the plow.reading by candle light,and writing socialist manifestoson a 1913 underwood typewriter!making love in the front seatof a 1966 Rambler Classic.raising babies,…

not a flinch, not a sound…except cars passing by.not a good son,too many wild nights,& run-ins with the law…but he could still remember…her dumplings, & the booksshe read to him at night…the way she taught him to think for himself,told him never to follow anyone…her old Bible, & her tired smiling eyes…southern men just dont…

for every what,there is a why.for every ignorance a cause,for every cause a choice.for every choice a reason,for every reason a condition.for every truth a light,for every light a darkened corner.for every mind there is a door,locked and unlocked by will.for every failure an excuse,for every excuse another.for every triumph,hard work and reasoning…which begins with…

listening, just listening, to every word.when we came to the placewhere the road forked,He smiled… and gave mea match, a candle, and a rusted nail.this road often empty,i have come to know…the voices of stillness,and the sound of the waterbreaking over the rocks.when the darkness swallows me,i stop, and light the candle,rolling the nail in…