Spoken word piece:
Summertime and the livin ain't easy...
Evening cicadas and lightning bugs on the lazy lawn
Transform into beeping alarms and flashing lights
In the moment it took me drink from a honeysuckle.
I am thankful that cicadas do not have the
Ability to raise the alarm.
Night’s soldiers line the 3 am street,
Guns slung over shoulders,
Waving batons to strike my innocent perambulation.
As I stare into their inhuman faces.
A breeze passes and I’m left sizing up the peaceful maples,
Each leaf surrendering the menacing symbol it
Clutched at in the dark moment of my imagination.
One of these mornings I’m gonna rise up singing...
About news anchors who have bulldozed my sanctuary.
Breached the news room to preach dark numbers
And videos on youtube amass attention for their messages of hate
Which cross over into reality
And leave someone dead on the street.
These autumn nights the trees strand me in a shadow of gloom
And strangers are birds
That take flight at any small movement I make,
Flying into my fantasy,
Flying strait for my heart with claws raised
Ready to gash me senseless of these bleak crimes.
So hush, little baby...
For there are many who will rule our lives with terror
because, no matter the mask, what I fear most is: fear
But no one has obliterated this truth: that beauty does not live in fear.
Summertime and the livin ain't easy...
Evening cicadas and lightning bugs on the lazy lawn
Transform into beeping alarms and flashing lights
In the moment it took me drink from a honeysuckle.
I am thankful that cicadas do not have the
Ability to raise the alarm.
Night’s soldiers line the 3 am street,
Guns slung over shoulders,
Waving batons to strike my innocent perambulation.
As I stare into their inhuman faces.
A breeze passes and I’m left sizing up the peaceful maples,
Each leaf surrendering the menacing symbol it
Clutched at in the dark moment of my imagination.
One of these mornings I’m gonna rise up singing...
About news anchors who have bulldozed my sanctuary.
Breached the news room to preach dark numbers
And videos on youtube amass attention for their messages of hate
Which cross over into reality
And leave someone dead on the street.
These autumn nights the trees strand me in a shadow of gloom
And strangers are birds
That take flight at any small movement I make,
Flying into my fantasy,
Flying strait for my heart with claws raised
Ready to gash me senseless of these bleak crimes.
So hush, little baby...
For there are many who will rule our lives with terror
because, no matter the mask, what I fear most is: fear
But no one has obliterated this truth: that beauty does not live in fear.
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