The Sounds
Immobile Spirit Rain Dance
Immobile spirits dance the motionless dance
sing the silent song...clap
the inaudible clap
All She asks is to quench the desire
to calm the storms, to encounter the peace
Peace so healing, peace so precious
Peace so internal, so rare, so genuine
Sounds of conga drums and
soul-shaking poetry
feed the Spirits unselfishly
Damned to play invisible hopscotch
like a child on punishment
Like a flock of butterflies from one cocoon
confined...bound...restricted...hopeful
Immobile Spirits dance
the motionless dance
Dance on, Spirits...DANCE ON!
It was a blend of Billie Holiday and electronic beats
That thrust Her back into the realm of the material
It was the loudness of your thoughts tapping gently at Her window, which provoked the anticipation you’re feeling right now.
(...you're feeling it right now!)
Who could it be She pondered, ever so slightly
What news could be beckoned from within my space
“Speak to me!” She cried, “…no shyness upon Thee!”
Speak to the Voice Without a Face.
(...without a face?!)
As She weaned Herself from the nourishing breeze
Man-made vibrations disrupted Her thoughts
There were 5 baby butterflies giggling over tea
When She danced to the tune of fiber-optics in sync
(…fiber optics in sync?...hmm...)
Voice Mail (at the Tone)
No Faith Gone (Cut to Chase)
If I were to pick the dandelion from the shelf before it had begun to croon
If I were to turn in front of traffic just to relieve my anxiety
If I were to kiss you goodbye before you could even open your mouth
Or withdraw from humanity altogether…
Then I would never know how the weed got there to begin with
I would never know what was on your mind
I would never have touched your skin again
And you would never know why
If I were to disappear from the face of this earth
If I were to scratch my name from the slate of time
If I were to fall asleep before the stroke of twelve
Or cry before I saw your face…
...then I would have never found out who won the election
I would never have known your middle name
I would never be able to wipe the sleep from my eyes
And you would never know why
If I were to walk through the sand and run into a wall
If I were to smash my skull into tiny bits
If I were to die in my sleep before I finished this poem
Or get lost in a straight-jacket that didn’t even fit
Then I would never need lotion for my ashy feet
I would never have to think of you again
I would never have completed this run-on sentence
And you would have never known why
The Ultimatum?...yeah alright
You steadily ignite the sting in my cheek
As soon as the redness begins to fade
You rekindle the coals with the palm of your hand
Love me My Pet…love my every moan
You will love me only if I cater to your spills?
But my cup runneth over too…what can you do about that?
Can you cater to mine?...can you dance the dance?
Will you play the song that I long to hear?
Your needs seem to cause no dilemma to me
My hand…my mouth…my toe…my tongue
But would you be willing…or shall I say, able
To play my song the way I want to hear it?
It won’t be a problem even if you aren’t musically inclined
Just so long as you are able to carry a note or two…or three
Maybe it’s just me…but if you carry my notes
Then believe, Baby, I will carry yours.
