I am warm in here. Out there it’s 20 degrees with a northeasterly wind. I don’t care except that the trees are confused. They can’t decide whether it’s time to wither down & go bare or should they bud. They talk to me and ask me but I say I don’t know. Cause, yo, it’s so crazy out here. You know, crazy for everyone, not just crazy for a sister but crazy for a tree. Al Gore says it’s global warming moving at a faster rate than presupposed before and the naysayers in the crowd out here argue this validity. I don’t know who to believe. Yesterday was 50 degrees. Today it’s snowing violently violet with a strong breeze. I can barely see through the thick curtain of white wet snow relentlessly cascading down outside. 50 degrees yesterday, yo sister, yo brother, yo …
What’s it to you if I dream away my solitude? Write poetry in my spare time. Spare time that used to be 1 minute is now 2. I don’t have time to work a regular gig. I’m too busy writing poetry and have too many other things to do.
In my solitude you haunt me
With dreadful ease
Of days gone by
As I stroll past, I hear the trees say they don’t know what to think but should I care? I return inside where it’s warm from the glow produced by oil & coal from the furnace. I don’t need to know what’s causing this interruption of flow of service on my network. I keep telling others to listen to reason, use all your resources to power the nation. Power the Mojave Desert with miles & miles of solar panels and we’ll all be warmed free for life. There’ll be very little strife I promise. The economy will be trite without these services sold to the hilt, but we’ll all have our lights and warmth. Our services will be free if you’ll only please see what I see and power the Mojave desert with miles and miles of solar panels please please.
I hear cries from everywhere world wide, voices echoed & etched in the wind of tides,
Them that’s got shall get
Them that’s not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child that’s got his own
That’s got his own
You are so in love with you I see, but then who wouldn't be?
What is it with all the beautiful artists always taking self-portraits? Good self-esteem I guess?
Let kaleidoscope wings help my spirit soar, I want more, to fly away to exotic faraway shores where no one knows me where I can seek evolution and solutions, maybe even start a revolution.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
busy bee be me still...
I'm doing so much I'm going into a tailspin. Our second issue of The Cartier Street Review came out this week, on my birthday and the first day out had over 100 hits. I'm particularly proud of this issue because using the art was my idea and I chose all the artists except for Bernard Alain's mother, Anatholie Alain. I would have chosen her had I seen her art. The artists were chosen from facebook. I want to buy Bettina Burch’s pink lady for me.
This year has bounced off very successfully and it’s only begun. Wheelhouse Mag requested audio from DubbleX and me and published 4 of our audio poems . Afterwards I offered to promote them and have done so. Michael Annis accepted So A Black Man Is President from DubbleX and the first of my Bluetry series, I sing the blues for you today for omega magazine. The poem I sing..., is now being published for the 4th time. I am also publicist for omega magazine at facebook and will be helping Michael Annis and Heller Levinson promote hinge theory. The upcoming omega (yes click on omega) magazine is still soliciting submissions.
Thumbs up to Nabina Das for giving me the heads up that Kathi Georges from Three Rooms Press was seeking submissions for the new edition of Dada poetry magazine called Maintenant 3. Kathi said she loved both and there was room for one. She took 15 minutes of fame. I’m so happy and a shout out to Kathi Georges for doing this. Please read more about Kathi Georges and DaDa poetry at Nabina Das’ blog & at Three Rooms Press .
Mad Swirl took three more of my poems, (they already had I sing the blues for you today); Spreading Wildcat Fire, Another Round More: Pleas For The Planet Blues Part 4, and Singing Billie’s Blues By Me, Part III. Readerjack.com accepted three of DubbleX’s love poems to be published in their love is in the air contest, Untraditional Love, love junkies and hungry for love.
Since January, The Cartier Street Review published Tribute to John Coltraine by DubbleX along with free syle spitting rant, Manhattan forest or zoo, and Hide & Seek. Angels With Broken Wings, (a shout out to publisher - poet Roxie Hoffman for this one), accepted for those on the inside by DubbleX.
Crisis Chronicles Online Library published I Sing The Blues For You Today in January 2009 and so did The Cartier Street Review along with Alien Planet of Lesbian Lovers and Blues Part II.
Blog Critics published my Book Review For The May Queen by Kate Evans in February 2009. In March, The Cartier Street Review published my review of Daniel Borzetzky’s one size fits all and my poem, Spreading Wildcat Fire. Brownstone Poetry Reading run by Patricia Patricia Carragon, accepted Mexican delight.
Ooops just opened an email from readerjack.com and they accepted 3 of my submissions too, Is it love or attraction, Love Helps Things Fall Into Place Pantoum, and Twisted, A Sestina Of Love.
Wow, I’m on a roll - jelly roll - let the good times roll, and forget about sorrow. I'm too busy, come tomorrow there's a lot more networking to do, lost in a series of masquerades, delusions to who I am allusions and illusions - let er rip for old times sake daddy sing me those blues tonight!
This year has bounced off very successfully and it’s only begun. Wheelhouse Mag requested audio from DubbleX and me and published 4 of our audio poems . Afterwards I offered to promote them and have done so. Michael Annis accepted So A Black Man Is President from DubbleX and the first of my Bluetry series, I sing the blues for you today for omega magazine. The poem I sing..., is now being published for the 4th time. I am also publicist for omega magazine at facebook and will be helping Michael Annis and Heller Levinson promote hinge theory. The upcoming omega (yes click on omega) magazine is still soliciting submissions.
Thumbs up to Nabina Das for giving me the heads up that Kathi Georges from Three Rooms Press was seeking submissions for the new edition of Dada poetry magazine called Maintenant 3. Kathi said she loved both and there was room for one. She took 15 minutes of fame. I’m so happy and a shout out to Kathi Georges for doing this. Please read more about Kathi Georges and DaDa poetry at Nabina Das’ blog & at Three Rooms Press .
Mad Swirl took three more of my poems, (they already had I sing the blues for you today); Spreading Wildcat Fire, Another Round More: Pleas For The Planet Blues Part 4, and Singing Billie’s Blues By Me, Part III. Readerjack.com accepted three of DubbleX’s love poems to be published in their love is in the air contest, Untraditional Love, love junkies and hungry for love.
Since January, The Cartier Street Review published Tribute to John Coltraine by DubbleX along with free syle spitting rant, Manhattan forest or zoo, and Hide & Seek. Angels With Broken Wings, (a shout out to publisher - poet Roxie Hoffman for this one), accepted for those on the inside by DubbleX.
Crisis Chronicles Online Library published I Sing The Blues For You Today in January 2009 and so did The Cartier Street Review along with Alien Planet of Lesbian Lovers and Blues Part II.
Blog Critics published my Book Review For The May Queen by Kate Evans in February 2009. In March, The Cartier Street Review published my review of Daniel Borzetzky’s one size fits all and my poem, Spreading Wildcat Fire. Brownstone Poetry Reading run by Patricia Patricia Carragon, accepted Mexican delight.
Ooops just opened an email from readerjack.com and they accepted 3 of my submissions too, Is it love or attraction, Love Helps Things Fall Into Place Pantoum, and Twisted, A Sestina Of Love.
Wow, I’m on a roll - jelly roll - let the good times roll, and forget about sorrow. I'm too busy, come tomorrow there's a lot more networking to do, lost in a series of masquerades, delusions to who I am allusions and illusions - let er rip for old times sake daddy sing me those blues tonight!
Monday, March 02, 2009
Dead Long Ago
All those people? Dead long ago. Most of `em anyway
They ate up all the lead, used so many drugs
Their bodies shot to shit, they’re all dead
Some’s left, see em once in a while
walking down the street,
Standing in the rain, trapped
Stuck on their methadone, loving it, not moving on
Heroin was good in the 60’s, plentiful and cheap,
My friends and acquaintances died from o.d.’s
Me? I never used it. Uhh ... O.K., I tried it once,
You know what they say about birds flock together
I flocked, beats me what for, but I did,
Truth is that flock was better n’ home
What? You want to know if I had a good home?
I thought that flock was better n’ home,
14 years old hanging with the addicts.
So sorry, at 14 it was alchies. Alcoholics.
Yeah, tried that too, didn’t like it none
Having babies for a black man, angry alcoholic
He became a junkie. I saw him not long ago
Asked him when I saw him,
“Why were you so mean?”
“Don’t know,” he said to me,
“Couldn’t hep myself, I guess.”
He tells me, “I’m HIV now, got a hernia so bad
my balls swoll up down to the floor.”
He was a god-damned strong man at 20.
I saw him press 250 pounds. Handsome too
6 feet tall, 180 pounds, muscular, well built
He had lots of girls. Gave me gonorrhea 30 years ago.
30 years ago I told him about our baby
“Shoe box size,” he said when
I held my hands up to describe
“Coffee color with lots of cream,”
I said about the baby’s skin.
Dead 30 years ago.
In the middle of the night they came, 2 a.m. or so,
Said “Your baby’s gone, you can see him now you want.”
Gone, born 2 days and a half ago,
“You can see him now you want,”
the doctor’s hand resting on my shoulder
I birthed him glimpsing his coffee
colored skin with lots of cream,
They took him away,
never `lowed again another see
“His lungs were half formed,” they said,
“You can see him now you want.”
Begging for 2 days and a half, not allowed.
“You can see him now you want.”
“What for?” I said, “I wanted him alive.”
“Too bad. So sorry. You can see him now you want.
At least let us do an autopsy.
Save some other woman pain like you.”
So Sorry. Trapped in a time warp.
Childhood? What Childhood? Childhood what?
So sorry. Never, ever heard the word.
Can’t imagine what it means.
* Note: This poem was written over 15 years ago and it still stands powerful. It has been published several times.
They ate up all the lead, used so many drugs
Their bodies shot to shit, they’re all dead
Some’s left, see em once in a while
walking down the street,
Standing in the rain, trapped
Stuck on their methadone, loving it, not moving on
Heroin was good in the 60’s, plentiful and cheap,
My friends and acquaintances died from o.d.’s
Me? I never used it. Uhh ... O.K., I tried it once,
You know what they say about birds flock together
I flocked, beats me what for, but I did,
Truth is that flock was better n’ home
What? You want to know if I had a good home?
I thought that flock was better n’ home,
14 years old hanging with the addicts.
So sorry, at 14 it was alchies. Alcoholics.
Yeah, tried that too, didn’t like it none
Having babies for a black man, angry alcoholic
He became a junkie. I saw him not long ago
Asked him when I saw him,
“Why were you so mean?”
“Don’t know,” he said to me,
“Couldn’t hep myself, I guess.”
He tells me, “I’m HIV now, got a hernia so bad
my balls swoll up down to the floor.”
He was a god-damned strong man at 20.
I saw him press 250 pounds. Handsome too
6 feet tall, 180 pounds, muscular, well built
He had lots of girls. Gave me gonorrhea 30 years ago.
30 years ago I told him about our baby
“Shoe box size,” he said when
I held my hands up to describe
“Coffee color with lots of cream,”
I said about the baby’s skin.
Dead 30 years ago.
In the middle of the night they came, 2 a.m. or so,
Said “Your baby’s gone, you can see him now you want.”
Gone, born 2 days and a half ago,
“You can see him now you want,”
the doctor’s hand resting on my shoulder
I birthed him glimpsing his coffee
colored skin with lots of cream,
They took him away,
never `lowed again another see
“His lungs were half formed,” they said,
“You can see him now you want.”
Begging for 2 days and a half, not allowed.
“You can see him now you want.”
“What for?” I said, “I wanted him alive.”
“Too bad. So sorry. You can see him now you want.
At least let us do an autopsy.
Save some other woman pain like you.”
So Sorry. Trapped in a time warp.
Childhood? What Childhood? Childhood what?
So sorry. Never, ever heard the word.
Can’t imagine what it means.
* Note: This poem was written over 15 years ago and it still stands powerful. It has been published several times.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
3 Poems from Dianne Borsenik
These Places
sound like some astronomer'swet dream
labia majora
clitoris
gluteus maximus
areola
sensations launched
from fingerpads
streaking
from point to point
traveling at the speed
of a synaptic kiss
this astronaut blinded
by the constellations
forming in your sweat-slick
pale universe
looking for that
Big Bang
______________________________
Summer And Smoke
he holds his cock
like a paintbrush
touches her
white body
with long careful
strokes
he trails magenta
flame
down her spine
feathering
the edges
he dips
again and again
into the bright
wet pools of color
finishes
with stipples
of sweat and cum
sometimes
late at night
and alone
she dreams the blush
of the eastern sun
and she can hear
his Picasso
and she can taste
his Monet
_______________
First Kiss
Rising from a swimmer's dream
of coral and dappled light,
he skims off the beads
of sleep that slick his
eggshell skin.
The sky turns to smoke.
Stars, sprinkled like raw sugar
over the lake, sweeten
his dreams.
The night is different
here, where forgotten shadows
bend silver to their will.
The round nipple
of the full moon rises.
He tastes the honey
of her blood, holds it
on his tongue and remembers
vanished flowers.
Click here to Dianne's links 1
#2 link
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Low Kay Shun by John Burroughs
If you see Kay
Tell her I love her
Miss her
Wish she were on the menu
If you see Kay
Tell her I'm sorry
She's not allowed in this venue
Not sure why
Doesn't make much sense
Might have something to do with religion
Or the government.
Her friends Whore and War are welcome anytime
But if you see Kay
Tell her no way!
She can't come.
Most everyone else
Can come til they're dumb though.
A few other folks are welcome as long as
They wear the acceptable contextual clothes:
Dick Van Dyke
Can come as often as he likes
But buy him
Own him
Call him my Dick
And he's not welcome.
Billowy pussy willows
Can blossom and blow as they wish
But own one
Mention that "My pussy will O..."
You'll soon discover
That fair or bare or not
In this place
You're pussona non grata.
My Ps and Qs and I
Are free to come and go
And lie as often as we will
But if you see Kay
Tell her the powers that be
Have had their fill of her
And swill like her
Is barred from the menu
In this venue
By the men who'd rather
Go home and sin you
While warning a word like you
To not intrude on their poetry
Their peach
Pity free dumb of speech
In this low Kay shun.
For those of you that are not familiar with John's work, he maintain two running blogs in addition to a blog where he features the rest of us. I applaud his efforts and hard work and someday I'm going to make it to his open mic and rock it down! Below are his links. There's some fascinating stuff and a wide range of it too. I saw him read this one on his blog and wanted it with the video but the embed html wouldn't work. For now I can share the poem and will try to add the video later. Enjoy!
John Burrough's website
Jesus Crisis Blog
Crisis Chronicles Online Library
link to watch the video on hisspace
Monday, February 23, 2009
Busy as busy bee me...
I want my blog readers to know I haven’t abandoned you. I’ve been working very hard in my position as production editor at The Cartier Street Review. I want you all to know I’ve earned the title. We both put a lot of effort into creating this magazine that is evolving as we speak. We will continue to spotlight a writer each issue. In the upcoming issue we will be including a new section of reviews since people like the reviews on my blog.
Kate Evans' book For The May Queen
Daniel Sumrall's echap Well Enough
I am actually receiving many books and requests from writers to review poetry chaps as well as full length novels & other works. Upcoming in reviews will be Daniel Borzutzky's one size fits all published by scantily clad press.
Through our creative inputs and ideas we will now be breaking up the writings with people’s artwork photos etc. We’re also working on layout and may make some changes. We’re experimenting. Submissions will remain the same. If you feel more comfortable submitting to me you may do so. If you prefer you may submit to Bernie, principal editor. Directions on submissions are at the website.
The Cartier Street Review
If anyone has any suggestions about how we can improve feel free to write. Our numbers have grown tremendously, which I take credit for and am proud of. I thank all of you for your love.
More News:
As many of you know I am working on a series of Bluetry poems. Yessireee folks, I made up a name for the series. Today I worked on Bluetry #7 & #8. I have only posted up to number 3. I'm saving some for he who comes last, pun intended.
More more new shit:
I recently got involved in pomoting wheelhouse mag at fb. DubbleX was recently online in a fb chat with David Michael Wolach, principal editor of wheelhouse mag (this link to actual mag.) David asked DubbleX to submit audio for the upcoming version of wheelhouse. He said he loves our audio files! He's labeled me editor and I guess I'm actually the publicist since he needs none of my other work. Give a shout out to wheelhouse and their increase in numbers - whooeee!
Don't ask - don't know where that talent comes from but at fb I created a club for Ira Lightman and his numbers are way up.
I've also pumped up the volume for Turntable & Bluelight Mag. I helped wordsalad mag too. I also often feature artists and writer on my facebook profile page. You know who you are. At DubbleX's urging I started our fan club too at fb.
Way New Shit!
I've agreed to get involved in promoting hinge theory and we (Michael Annis, Heller Levinson & I) are in puppy dog stages in this planning process. I am awaiting my package from Michael Annis which is going to introduce me to hinge theory. Look at Heller Levinson's work on line and at the latest edition of The Cartier Street Review to get more of a clue about hinge. Fascinating! Michael has graciously accepted my first bluetry poem, I Sing The Blues For You Today for publication in OMEGA 7. Just got news from Shotgun Slim Sneako aka Michael Annis that So A Black Man is President will be included in OMEGA 7 too.
Kate Evans' book For The May Queen
Daniel Sumrall's echap Well Enough
I am actually receiving many books and requests from writers to review poetry chaps as well as full length novels & other works. Upcoming in reviews will be Daniel Borzutzky's one size fits all published by scantily clad press.
Through our creative inputs and ideas we will now be breaking up the writings with people’s artwork photos etc. We’re also working on layout and may make some changes. We’re experimenting. Submissions will remain the same. If you feel more comfortable submitting to me you may do so. If you prefer you may submit to Bernie, principal editor. Directions on submissions are at the website.
The Cartier Street Review
If anyone has any suggestions about how we can improve feel free to write. Our numbers have grown tremendously, which I take credit for and am proud of. I thank all of you for your love.
More News:
As many of you know I am working on a series of Bluetry poems. Yessireee folks, I made up a name for the series. Today I worked on Bluetry #7 & #8. I have only posted up to number 3. I'm saving some for he who comes last, pun intended.
More more new shit:
I recently got involved in pomoting wheelhouse mag at fb. DubbleX was recently online in a fb chat with David Michael Wolach, principal editor of wheelhouse mag (this link to actual mag.) David asked DubbleX to submit audio for the upcoming version of wheelhouse. He said he loves our audio files! He's labeled me editor and I guess I'm actually the publicist since he needs none of my other work. Give a shout out to wheelhouse and their increase in numbers - whooeee!
Don't ask - don't know where that talent comes from but at fb I created a club for Ira Lightman and his numbers are way up.
I've also pumped up the volume for Turntable & Bluelight Mag. I helped wordsalad mag too. I also often feature artists and writer on my facebook profile page. You know who you are. At DubbleX's urging I started our fan club too at fb.
Way New Shit!
I've agreed to get involved in promoting hinge theory and we (Michael Annis, Heller Levinson & I) are in puppy dog stages in this planning process. I am awaiting my package from Michael Annis which is going to introduce me to hinge theory. Look at Heller Levinson's work on line and at the latest edition of The Cartier Street Review to get more of a clue about hinge. Fascinating! Michael has graciously accepted my first bluetry poem, I Sing The Blues For You Today for publication in OMEGA 7. Just got news from Shotgun Slim Sneako aka Michael Annis that So A Black Man is President will be included in OMEGA 7 too.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Singing Billies Blues By Me, Bluetry #3 (to read)
I implore you look outside the plate window. See how the wind whips the sky. I hear its wail above city sounds way up here in my 16th floor prison here in the Heights. I implore you free me from my tears have become the storm outside. Hear me wail, your other half – We are one, you know us well. Watch me flail, I can’t find a rail to hold onto. I don’t want to fall, but it’s slippery out here. Give me your hand to hold to cross the space.
My fingers ice, froze near the window where I continue to type absorbed in my hype about reality. Nice stories neatly told and packaged for your delight, passed to and fro. I cast my spell; create my own heaven & hell, my well of desire bursting forth.
My family gave me up for lent. Is that the answer or the end? Am I worth more now or less? Where to explore next, I remain sure in my search, I’m seeking answers with leaps of faith, I promise I am I am.
In my solitude
You haunt me
With memories
Of days gone by
4 days in a row I refuse to leave my abode. I can’t go, I should go to the gym, and won’t. I refuse to agree I’m depressed too not just dubblex. I don’t give in to my own reality, the fatality. He’s too old for me with circumspect dark moods. My youthful vision revives him, gives him sight again. All trite and true, not right, not poetry, I swear, reality I swear.
I sit in my chair
And filled with despair
There’s no one could be so sad
With gloom everywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that Ill soon go mad
I implore you stay here
Ahh - a golden glimmer of god finally shines through my frozen world of youthful delight. I see the sun, the truth you held forth for me to see. The sky parts open to expose a bright silver streak of light, the wind so strong it sounds like thunder in my lungs. I want to explore you & forget reality. Let’s talk poetry instead.
The galaxy of my heart swoons for paradise in lost expressions & protestations of love. My blue teardrops tenderly drip down your face. Your faith shadows mine. I bend to kiss your lips like blackberry wine the kiss drips from my lips. None of this is metaphor the wind screams in my face; this is reality. My life left undone. Get a new life tomorrow whispers the wind accompanies my heart returns to the blues in lieu of deed. I sigh with relief though the frustrated wind blows relentlessly without thoughts or feelings about how I feel. I wish she’d stop stop stop in her own good time they say, Okay I say Okay.
A ‘how to manual’ tattooed on heart make me easy to read. Patience, a dash of virtue goes a long way. Make peace not war I implore. W.T.F. about virtues instead? Peace unending everlasting enchanting chore this side of shore. This side of paradise hear my crying my flow of golden words they sing my open heart song for you alone, misty blue hear my wail of thunder & despair. I don’t want to care - I do.
My fingers ice, froze near the window where I continue to type absorbed in my hype about reality. Nice stories neatly told and packaged for your delight, passed to and fro. I cast my spell; create my own heaven & hell, my well of desire bursting forth.
My family gave me up for lent. Is that the answer or the end? Am I worth more now or less? Where to explore next, I remain sure in my search, I’m seeking answers with leaps of faith, I promise I am I am.
In my solitude
You haunt me
With memories
Of days gone by
4 days in a row I refuse to leave my abode. I can’t go, I should go to the gym, and won’t. I refuse to agree I’m depressed too not just dubblex. I don’t give in to my own reality, the fatality. He’s too old for me with circumspect dark moods. My youthful vision revives him, gives him sight again. All trite and true, not right, not poetry, I swear, reality I swear.
I sit in my chair
And filled with despair
There’s no one could be so sad
With gloom everywhere
I sit and I stare
I know that Ill soon go mad
I implore you stay here
Ahh - a golden glimmer of god finally shines through my frozen world of youthful delight. I see the sun, the truth you held forth for me to see. The sky parts open to expose a bright silver streak of light, the wind so strong it sounds like thunder in my lungs. I want to explore you & forget reality. Let’s talk poetry instead.
The galaxy of my heart swoons for paradise in lost expressions & protestations of love. My blue teardrops tenderly drip down your face. Your faith shadows mine. I bend to kiss your lips like blackberry wine the kiss drips from my lips. None of this is metaphor the wind screams in my face; this is reality. My life left undone. Get a new life tomorrow whispers the wind accompanies my heart returns to the blues in lieu of deed. I sigh with relief though the frustrated wind blows relentlessly without thoughts or feelings about how I feel. I wish she’d stop stop stop in her own good time they say, Okay I say Okay.
A ‘how to manual’ tattooed on heart make me easy to read. Patience, a dash of virtue goes a long way. Make peace not war I implore. W.T.F. about virtues instead? Peace unending everlasting enchanting chore this side of shore. This side of paradise hear my crying my flow of golden words they sing my open heart song for you alone, misty blue hear my wail of thunder & despair. I don’t want to care - I do.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
GLOBAL WARNING VERSUS SURVIVAL INSTINCTS
We forget that this world is naked
we attempt to clothe her with our futility
we dress her up with structures
get her drunk on chemicals - get her high with pollution
then wonder why she is now ill
we question where has the water gone; it used to rain and snow here and there
we seem dumbfounded that certain plants no longer grow
and countless animals have disappeared
the world is still naked but we dress her up in heels
as we dig our oil wells spikes to her core strip mine her land
we alter her with breast implants of nuclear plants
we dye her sky hair with colors of radiation
and we wonder why she is balding; the hole in the ozone layer grows
we take her out dancing - use her for are personal pleasure
then wonder why she is suffering with a fever that is steadily warming
we try to shape her and drape her with our form of beauty
then complain our cities
We feed her our trash and then wonder why things are now out of balance
We care for her not and are surprised how quickly she is now aging
the only problem is we forget that she is carrying us daily in her arms
Dubble X wrote the above verse; his partner, JL, wrote the second verse
Dubble X and I combine our verse to praise our mother earth
I want to power the Mohave desert with miles and miles
Of solar panels – enough to run the entire planet
Power the world on solar energy
I want to do this because I love mother earth,
Worship her in her design, she is my creator
The creator of the generations of humans and time
Creator of our earth she bestows grace, productivity proclivity and life
I want to power the Mohave desert with miles and miles of solar panels
So the earth will survive
So my children’s children and yours
Will inherit the earth, so they
Will have a planet on which to reside
A planet that supports life
Because as it stands now
Mother Earth will survive while humanity will die out
The ice age is coming…
Mother Earth will survive …
She will begin the cycle all over again
Will have a planet on which to survive
Check out Don Coorough's essay, On the Organization of an Enlightened and Ecologically Sound Community
we attempt to clothe her with our futility
we dress her up with structures
get her drunk on chemicals - get her high with pollution
then wonder why she is now ill
we question where has the water gone; it used to rain and snow here and there
we seem dumbfounded that certain plants no longer grow
and countless animals have disappeared
the world is still naked but we dress her up in heels
as we dig our oil wells spikes to her core strip mine her land
we alter her with breast implants of nuclear plants
we dye her sky hair with colors of radiation
and we wonder why she is balding; the hole in the ozone layer grows
we take her out dancing - use her for are personal pleasure
then wonder why she is suffering with a fever that is steadily warming
we try to shape her and drape her with our form of beauty
then complain our cities
We feed her our trash and then wonder why things are now out of balance
We care for her not and are surprised how quickly she is now aging
the only problem is we forget that she is carrying us daily in her arms
Dubble X wrote the above verse; his partner, JL, wrote the second verse
Dubble X and I combine our verse to praise our mother earth
I want to power the Mohave desert with miles and miles
Of solar panels – enough to run the entire planet
Power the world on solar energy
I want to do this because I love mother earth,
Worship her in her design, she is my creator
The creator of the generations of humans and time
Creator of our earth she bestows grace, productivity proclivity and life
I want to power the Mohave desert with miles and miles of solar panels
So the earth will survive
So my children’s children and yours
Will inherit the earth, so they
Will have a planet on which to reside
A planet that supports life
Because as it stands now
Mother Earth will survive while humanity will die out
The ice age is coming…
Mother Earth will survive …
She will begin the cycle all over again
Will have a planet on which to survive
Check out Don Coorough's essay, On the Organization of an Enlightened and Ecologically Sound Community
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)