Thoughts of Me
Thoughts of me,
Like the maple leafs on a tree
Thoughts of me make feelings warm
Like a buttery cob of corn
Thoughts of me seem so far
Unlike a kid with a candy bar
Under a watchful eye
Never to far
Thoughts of me
May make you cry
And if it does
I wonder why
Thoughts of me
Will never die
Just like a monarch butterfly
Or the clouds in the sky
Thoughts of me
May come and go
Like a kid with a yoyo
Always ready to go
If thoughts of me
Bring tears to you
It’s because the thought
Must have got caught
Thoughts of me
Began to fade
Like bugs scattering from a can of raid
But remember this
They are all thoughts of me
Some Friends will
Some friends will come and go
But a true friend will take it slow
And by doing this, it will show
Some friends will.
Some friends will lend you a hand
Others are musicians and play in a band
Some are so real unto you
Other would steal, unlike you.
Some friends will only call on the phone
Others will only want your ringtones
But the best ones will stick by you
Like a open bottle of glue.
Some friends make me laugh
Some make me cry
Other I seem to look at
Shake my head and wonder why.
Some friends will only want
Some will only give
But a good mixture
Make it easier to live.
A guy like me.
A guy like me so far away
And yet close enough
To be hurt once again
A guy like me is awesome
In many ways
A super dad of 2
A big fan of Winnie Pooh
A guy like me will make you cry
You just don’t seem to understand
SO why even try
A guy like me, wears a heart of gold
Not in chest but on sleeve
For all to see
And some to enjoy
But remember I am a man
And not your toy.
Saying good-bye
It’s so cute to see kids play
I love mine in so many ways
I wished things were different
And I could have stayed
But mom had other plans that did not include me
She was no longer happy
And turned really sad
I was still happy
And thought I was glad
And tried I did
To make it better
It was like being on e-bay
It was only a bid
My girls give me that extra drive
I wait at the door for them to arrive
I think of them all the time
Sometimes sweet like sugar
Others sour like a lime
I want it to be about truth
And never to be a lie
My love for them is oh so cool
New chapter in life, and I am not a fool
Cause that’s for ever
LMC
unless I tell you,
you won't know
my skin lies
and doesn't show
the dark side
of my heritage.
And who gives a flying f*** anyway? When I was an idealistic teenager I was hell bent on righting wrongs and redressing balances. Apartheid was in full bloom then and my youthful ambition was to go to South Africa, infiltrate the white SA society and marry one of the elite, get pregnant as quickly as possible and then hold a global press conference announcing the full range of my ethnic diversity...well I was very young and thought it would be a lovely sock in the eye for those who chose discrimination.
I have been reviled (and threatened) for being "too white" and also for being "too black". Truth is I never noticed my, or anybody else's, colour until someone with racist issues pointed it out to me. They had to have issues...they were the one who saw in "colour". I am very lucky, I keep forgetting that I am anything other than a soul getting along as best it can. Of course there are plenty in the world eager to remind me and wave the flags of irrelevant details in my face. And every now and then I feel a need to hold up a mirror - that younger self still lives and burns with a warrior spirit, she would die for the disenfranchised and I hope I have the courage to live and die her dream if it ever becomes necessary...
To all those single ladies out there that get approached by a stranger who you find is open,honest,handsome charming and has a great sense of humor and is interested in you give that person a chance because you never know how things might turn out but of course use caution until you find out what that person is really like.
somebody's soul. Far more people read and browse the forums than ever comment. I can include my self among the number of those who circle above, reading over the shoulders of others, without a word, without a breath. Why do we hover, unconnecting? I can only speak for myself...I read threads I would never post to because the subject matter is incendiary and will lead to insults, humans being as they are.
I have not come here for the small viciousness of "I must be right" minds, nor do I believe that name calling and virtual mudslinging will solve any of the world's problems...although perhaps a soul is watching and will see how limited a view is and so will look inward to see where boundaries have been built that are not needed, that colour interactions with others. Occasionally I take a brief plunge into a pool I know will scald me, because I am responsible for the well being of others and must stand and be counted no matter what the cost might be.
Daily I take a deep breath and expose a glimpse of my innermost self to the world because until we know each other we will fear each other and fear is tied as close to hate as flesh to blood; and although I am irrelevant, a word scattered here or there, a thought, a concept may need to be seen. After my separation and divorce I had to file for bankruptcy and I spoke about it once in detail in a public forum (not on line) and two years later a woman I did not know stopped me on the street and thanked me, said my story had shown her a path to follow that had healed something. I had not spoken for her, I spoke my little truth, my experience, to own it, claim it make it part of who I am, and yet by bearing witness to the truths I live I shoulder my responsibility to my fellows and share the only thing I own.
but I am still awake. This is all part of my new plan to sleep late into friday morning so I am time shifted enough that I don't start to flag at three thirty or so on Saturday morning. What 'they' say about everything being at its lowest ebb around three to four in the morning is so true. It is the time I start to wonder why in the world I ever thought doing an overnight DJ show would be really cool. I get convinced that I am the only soul awake and no one's listening so I might as well be sleeping! My response to those internal nay sayers is to put on back-to- back uptempo beats and literally dance around the studio to get my blood to singing and seething through my veins again.
Once past four I am always fine and the drive home with the rising sun at my back is quite amazing. Once I get home and have something to eat it is interesting to feel the system shutting down. Last week I sat reading for a while and never noticed when I slipped into sleep. I had been planning to go down to the beach for an a.m. swim but I think that is probably beyond me UNLESS I can be day shifted so my early morning feels akin to an evening back home after work...thus I am awake now, typing reasonably coherent fragments (well they seem that way to me, right now)to keep myself functional for another couple of hours. There was a time when I thought nothing of going without sleep for days on end, full days, full nights that spilled one into another and then I'd crash for 24 to 36 hours and sleep the clock around and wake renewed and do it all again. Now I find my eyes half-mast at half past nine to open 8 hours later without a clock. The grown ups never warn you what happens as you get older. They never mention that you still feel 17 (or twelve) and just can't do the things you could when that age was actual - grown ups really suck! Okay made it to midnight!
I woke up this morning to the sound of rain, hard and driving, and the blissfully chill breeze circling in through my window and winding around my body. Paradise is sere and brown and needs the rain to bring its greens back on line. I like to dance in the rain ; face upturned, grass slick beneath my feet moving to the melody in my blood. Heck I like to dance anywhere; in supermarkets, as I pass an open window and a phrase, a riff of music grabs my feet and leads them through the pattern to complete the thought, waiting on line in banks I shimmy and groove if there is music on and people give me room. How can they keep their toes from tapping to the endless beats of rhythm that cascade through and round us all the time?
Rain has its own rhythm, now fast, now slow; pounding, soft, a splat on glass, a thrum on wood, tap tap, tap tap against the tarmac of the road that leads right to my door. The earth expands, exhales the scents and stinks of life as water makes them bloom under the soft grey skies, full of promise and redemption. Rain beats staccato, cold, upon my skin, my eyelids and runs across my lips collecting in the corners of my smile, then suddenly it stops and I twirl untouched in crystal air washed clear of dust, perfect for breathing.
...it has been a productive day. Finally settled on the format for the hurricane pieces and I think I can get about fifteen to twenty with good content so there will be a good rotation on them. Doesn't pay to bore the audience with the same thing over and over again.
Also finally managed to set up an interview for my new piece Art Form - an experiment where I try to make a vibrant audio piece featuring a visual artist. A challenge but I have a definite plan on how to make it work.
Finished reading Deerskin by Robin McKinley, very heavy subject matter despite its fantasy trappings.
Had a lot of fun swinging through the threads putting in my two cents every now and then. Amazing how easily people misinterpret each other - is it that they don't take the time to read thoroughly? And some people clearly just post to create conflict. I exercise my right to refuse to play in their sandboxes!
Each thought expressed
can burn and score the skin
or soothe the readers' spirit
why choose to roll in acid
with ice cream
right next door?