Hello everybody!
"How are you," I get asked often.
Today, I am dancing on the edge of laughter, tears of joy ready to be unleashed for no reason that can be understood.
I'm tasting with my eyes, seeing with my ears, and listening with my skin.
Life's rhythm is a samba beat; its symphony being eloquently played with spoons, sticks and a tin can percussion section.
Joy. How can that be described differently than saying it is liquid sunshine and electricity coming at you through a spiritual shower head, rinsing away despair and anguish from places you didn't know it was stuck on you.
My bones are howling with laughter no one else hears or can see.
I want to point my fingers at sadness and shoot it down with my happiness ray gun. Or be able to soothe it from the joints of the sufferring with balms of good intention.
It's another day today.
The best part is, it's life.
It can hurt me, it can knock me down.
But it's only life. It can't put out the fire.
When I consume it, it tastes like nothing else. Like that piece of salmon the sushi chef gave me special that time. A cube of wonderfulness laid upon my pallette.
It's life. How can there be any more?
Enjoy today. Ok?
(Can you tell I was listening to a live Dead show on the drive in this morning?)
I have seen where the wolf has slept by the silver stream.
I can tell by the mark he left you were in his dream.
Ah child of countless trees, ah child of boundless seas.
What are you, what are you meant to be?
Speaks his name for you were born to me,
Born to me, cassidy.
Lost now on the country miles in his cadillac.
I can tell by the way you smile he is rolling back.
Come wash the nighttime clean, come grow the scorched ground green.
Blow the horn, tap the tambourine.
Close the gap on the dark years in between.
You and me, cassidy.
Quick beats in an icy heart, catch colt draws a coffin cart,
There he goes and now here she starts, hear her cry.
Flight of the seabirds,
Scattered like lost words,
Wheel to the storm and fly.
Fare thee well now, let your life proceed by it’s own design.
Nothing to tell now, let the words be your’s, I’m done with mine.
Fare thee well now, let your life proceed by it’s own design.
Nothing to tell now, let the words be your’s, I’m done with mine.
Today, I am dancing on the edge of laughter, tears of joy ready to be unleashed for no reason that can be understood.
I'm tasting with my eyes, seeing with my ears, and listening with my skin.
Life's rhythm is a samba beat; its symphony being eloquently played with spoons, sticks and a tin can percussion section.
Joy. How can that be described differently than saying it is liquid sunshine and electricity coming at you through a spiritual shower head, rinsing away despair and anguish from places you didn't know it was stuck on you.
My bones are howling with laughter no one else hears or can see.
I want to point my fingers at sadness and shoot it down with my happiness ray gun. Or be able to soothe it from the joints of the sufferring with balms of good intention.
It's another day today.
The best part is, it's life.
It can hurt me, it can knock me down.
But it's only life. It can't put out the fire.
When I consume it, it tastes like nothing else. Like that piece of salmon the sushi chef gave me special that time. A cube of wonderfulness laid upon my pallette.
It's life. How can there be any more?
Enjoy today. Ok?
(Can you tell I was listening to a live Dead show on the drive in this morning?)
I have seen where the wolf has slept by the silver stream.
I can tell by the mark he left you were in his dream.
Ah child of countless trees, ah child of boundless seas.
What are you, what are you meant to be?
Speaks his name for you were born to me,
Born to me, cassidy.
Lost now on the country miles in his cadillac.
I can tell by the way you smile he is rolling back.
Come wash the nighttime clean, come grow the scorched ground green.
Blow the horn, tap the tambourine.
Close the gap on the dark years in between.
You and me, cassidy.
Quick beats in an icy heart, catch colt draws a coffin cart,
There he goes and now here she starts, hear her cry.
Flight of the seabirds,
Scattered like lost words,
Wheel to the storm and fly.
Fare thee well now, let your life proceed by it’s own design.
Nothing to tell now, let the words be your’s, I’m done with mine.
Fare thee well now, let your life proceed by it’s own design.
Nothing to tell now, let the words be your’s, I’m done with mine.
posted by Kurt at 8:47 AM
2 Comments:
Psalm 118:24
This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
i love your words. your joy is an encouragement to me.
Psalm 34:8
Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.
Has the ripple that flows in the wake of the flood become a writers' group? Your prosaic ramblings of late have been awakening the muse within here as well (note my response to summer feet).
Post a Comment
<< Home