Flight

Flight – Audio

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Deep In The Wood

I did hear a scream,

It wasn’t a city street

A forest it would seem

To hold so many sound

The wind had calmed

Now in the distant mystique

A cry could be the sound.

 

An animal I would surmise

Caught in the moonlit stars

A bright horizon left exposed

This creature of the night,

Was simply pre-disposed

To use the carrying sound

To warn the world around.

 

Haven’t really known a way

Beyond the cover of my chance

I’m listening to the ground,

Yet only when I’m told

The locks have been changed

No new keys to be found,

You’re on your own, is Man.

 

A creature wild in the deep would

Forever find solace what calls wood.

Listening, As Bullfrogs Might

Outside my window,

The sky black in twilight,

No breeze to offer an anxious

Tear into a calm evening.

 

Except the bullfrogs near

Must be a dozen at least

A three sound utterance

Shared by another nearby

 

Three times that’s all,

Perhaps the pitch might change,

Another again will chime in,

They’ll all be together in sound

 

I wonder about the simplistic strife

Surrounded alone in a pond of afterlife

There In The Deep Wood

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the lights on the house in the distance burn,

the figures inside I knew like my own,

in the damp soil, I would wait in the wood.

wondering if they would ever venture out,

would they wonder where I might next shout.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the cars travel by all strangers in the hour,

their lives meant for homes beyond my eye,

I would ask about their wonders and wanders

though I would never hear, just keep an eye

on their lives in the brief moments, passers by.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

There in the deep wood I would watch,

the stars illuminate a night sky in fall,

I might wonder about the earth in universe

watching all the patterns of the Milky Way,

there were so many, so brilliant their lives

though some I had known, others would fade.

There in the deep wood I would watch.

 

Different Moments

Recently, there were two,

lives we might call the same,

yet probably, more obviously,

vastly different lives,

worlds apart,

yet their outcomes,

well, we can probably imagine,

the same.

 

The meaning of which,

hard to explain,

yet, we want to know,

we ask the questions,

sitting together alone in our lives,

wondering just why,

when is this the time, when others

might still wander aimless

wondering only

about their next hour,

perhaps tomorrow,

even possibly a year ahead,

yet, these two …

 

Oh, to walk inside the mind of the dead,

to understand the next level,

be able to comprehend,

not likely to mend,

accept the truth yet I would

recommend,

the answer might be less

an epiphany,

more a sad reality,

but the question remains,

we all wonder about it together,

we wander the same streams,

the winding current of our lives.

 

The one, a musician,

his time came when the pain,

over came his emotions,

and later his family in the grieving period,

had to speak to the response

of his audience,

you and me,

the ones that miss him less then

they might ever possibly comprehend.

 

Yet the same,

the reality of the game,

out of our hands,

we just show up to

exclaim.

 

The other the choice is their own,

forget the others nearby,

find the solution today,

yet, that is the confusion,

we all would like to know,

now,

just why,

what fortune brought upon such pain,

and how can we all possibly

living,

not imagine its misfortune,

his misguided

solution.

 

We all do seem to have or hold or imagine,

these our different moments,

yet for me, they sometimes seem the very same.

Just Taking a Walk in the Neighbrohood

I was listening to a some Tom Waits the other day,

puts me in a certain frame of mind,

if you know, you know what I mean,

you know what I want to say,

so I just listen to the blues and try to find my way.

 

I was thinking just the other day, about a neighbor,

someone I know, they know me,

we all seem to know each other,

especially when we do have that chance,

the rare opportunity to say hello, a courtesy.

 

See it is not as much about the neighbor as it is,

each other, all of us, walking around

today, tomorrow, any other day,

it’s about the wonder of our lives,

whose do we touch, and will they every touch ours.

 

I’m sitting in a coffee shop, still listening to the blues,

Tom Waits kind of sets the tone,

for your day, for some of you the week,

like sitting in an old rusty bar,

and he steps out of the blind with a guitar.

 

We all do walk the same neighborhood, together,

oh we carry our crosses, for some it is

that famous albatross from an old piece of

literature,

I believe it was Coleridge, one of the dead guys.

 

Point is the music continues, the riffs, the melodies,

the lyrics that seem to so mellow, haunt our lives,

so we can all believe in it together,

we do love to feel, to believe, to wonder, to wish,

perhaps walk the same paths we all would wish to choose.

Traveling Mountains To Seek Valleys

It is not the end result we seem to favor,

while at the crest, noting the cool waters

floating downward toward a mecca

of personality, a vision of delight,

a land where each of our misgivings

might bathe themselves a cleanse.

 

It is these mountains I somehow travel,

a burden is a liking to hardship

where a journey

becomes the landing point,

that place where desire meets obligation.

We then wade in the refreshing waters,

gathered by the arches, the crevice

releases our lives toward a settling ground.

 

Oh to know the fascination that becomes

that epiphany, a cathartic finish, or an ongoing

realization of the constant cycle of humanity,

drawn by exercise,

forbidden the peril of temptation,

and yet we would continue the walk,

for it is in the actual stride of a want,

we do somehow then discover safe need.