Was a man named
Baby Juke
With roots in Rhymington
The village where chiren
Hollered at the moon
And wrote letters to messiah

Askin why
Dem rivers always ran dry
Thru Rhymington...

Askin why  
Tears be flowin
But still dem rivers be runnin dry
Thru Rhymington...

Baby Juke played a mean flute
Blowin cool water over
hearts achin
And spirits brakin
Thirsting for salvation...

When you're born
On Juke's side o' town

When the only life you know
Is brown, black
And blue

When daddy's dead
And broken
By thirty-two

And there's nothing Mammy can do
But cry
And try to carry on
In Rhymington

And there's nothing you can do
But cry
And play your flute
And try to blow your blues
Out of Rhymington

You become
Baby Juke

You become somebody
Every black boy and girl
Wanna be

You blaze a trail
Out of poverty

Out of Rhymington
To stardom
And notoriety

Only to find
Dem rivers run dry there too
For the likes of you

And brown, black
And blue
Is all you'll ever be

Even if you are a musical genius

Even if you are legendary

Like Baby Juke....

AYO

~ P

Let there be light.
A new ultra-virulent wave
Of clarity
To wash old myths
And memes
And compulsions away,

Like yesterday...

The meta-magician;
The cyberspace medicine-man
Coding seeds for all
that ails the world
Sat inside your head
Far too long;
Inverse-engineering your sense
Of right from wrong;
Want from need...

Greed is good!

Capitalist pawn you;
Click....Buy Now!

Capitalist pawn me;
Click ....Buy Now!

Greed is good!

Heed the Ad Man's call to action.
Fund the anchor's pension.
And the preacher's mansion.
And the politician's next campaign
Of empty promises.

Capitalist pawn you;
Spend! Spend! Spend!

Capitalist pawn me;
Spend! Spend! Spend!

ENOUGH!!!

Grab the rainbow.
Bend it towards clarity
And equity
And common sense...

Let there be light!

AYO

~P

i spent my life trying to please
someone with a twisted disease
i broke myself down
and tucked my feelings away
to become the person
they wanted me to be
i let myself be watched
through the glass of a two sided mirror
of a sociopath
i wallowed my spirit away
and begged for acceptance
but there’s nothing in the world
that i could do
to let the narcissist know
that i am human too

You talk up and down about healing
but all you're doing is hiding
behind your own shadows and shame
life is but a game
float gently down the stream

When we sleep
I imagine that we go to the same place
I picture you
Your tattoos and red wine stained cheeks
You smell like ice cream and you taste like it too
Everything that you love
Looks like me
It’s so real sometimes that when I reach out for you
I can feel you reaching back
In my dreams you say everything that I want to hear
And you mean it

She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.

We may fear it as we come to the end of it, but time's not the enemy nor is it a friend to me, it's just a reminder that the clock ticks merrily on its way, day in, day out, the clocks never stop, that's the way the cupcake crumbles or the snowflake stumbles.

It doesn't bother me that what will be we'll see in the fullness of the new Moon and if the great unknown is so unknown how come so many people know about it?

I think that I'll potter along pottering away
and that's the way to do it.