Thursday, December 17, 2009
Ah Consequences...
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
If God was my homegirl
Sunday, April 19, 2009
in the green room...behind these 4 walls
4 Walls
Behind these four walls
You are an angel
And I am a goddess and nothing can stop us
I never want to leave
Stay here in this garden
Innocent and true
With nothing to question
But out there in the world
We hit the ceiling
And I am a junkie
And you’ve been dealing
I could be high, get a good sleep tonight
But I’d rather be free
Behind these four walls
I am an orphan, suffering alone
Trying to turn stones into gold
The cage isn’t locked, I can leave whenever I want
Only I hold the key, turn the lights on so I can see
Before I face the world
This I must conquer
I am the victim of my own monster
I could hide under my bed and all my excuses
But I’d rather be free
Behind these four walls
We are sleeping
Safe in our little boxes
While others are forgotten
Out there in the world
Can you feel the riot
I am not an island
I won’t just stay quiet
I could pull the wool over my eyes,
But these voices are mine
And they’re crying outside
Id rather be free
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
in the green room...with the truth
Sunday, April 5, 2009
In the green room...of songs and stories
Saturday, April 4, 2009
In the green room...kissing Liza
Kissing Liza by the dj booth
Kissing Liza in the middle of the room
Kissing Liza under the full moon
When you you shoulda been kissing me
Kissing Liza on a Friday night
Kissing Liza all up in my light
Kissing Liza got me ready to fight
Cus you, you shoulda been kissing me
Yeah you, you shoulda been kissing me
And I’m in the bathroom crying my eyes out
Broke the garbage can and a glass or two
Almost broke the mirror but not with my hand
But with the look of a woman that no one understands no
Kissing Liza up against the wall
Kissing Liza now I’m two foot small
Kissing Liza and I’m going AWOL
Cus you, you should’ve been kissing me
Yea you, you should’ve been kissing me
Whispering in her ear and pouring champagne down her lips
Makes me sick watching you caress her fake tits
Its sweet now, but 6th sense predicts
You’re gonna realize that Liza ain’t shit
No I’m gonna realize that you ain’t shit
No I'm gonna realize this was all one of my stupid tricks
Kissing Liza now the parties begun
Kissing Liza well isn’t this fun
Kissing Liza if I only had a gun
Then you, you woulda been kissing me
Yea, you you woulda been kissing me
Hitting Liza in the back of the head
Don’t do nobody good
But I hit Liza in the back of the head
Cus you you shoulda been kissing me
Thursday, March 5, 2009
in the green room...with my lonely earring
The Missing Earring
Lost another earring tonight at the movie theatre; my beaded silver dangling spiral ones that everybody comments on. One earring probably swept into a trash heap, the other, abandoned. I return home to add her to the box with all the other lonely earrings. There was the pair of earrings my mother gave me in junior high school when I went through my Rastafarian phase and wore shells all the time. Then there are my jade Buddha’s,I inherited, but that one, almost makes sense to wear alone. These silver hoops I got in Canada for 2 bucks. The copper mermaid, the stars and moon collage, the music note,the golden heart. All loners now, left to rot in the bottom of my jewelry box, only to be worn as an 80’s fashion statement, like Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan.
Sometimes I fantasize that somewhere out there, someone has found the other earring, like a lost umbrella, or a glove or sock that got mixed up in your wash at the laundry mat. Somewhere out there someone’s saying a prayer for the earring without a match. They sit imagining who the earring could belong to and wondering, maybe even praying the earring belongs their soul mate.
Walking down the street they have forgotten all about looking at tits and ass, now they are checking out the ears, hoping to find the other half to the puzzle that magically found it’s way to them. Desperately seeking to fit together with someone. They play the whole scenario in their heads. A summer day, a warm breeze, their favorite shirt on, chai tea latte in hand crossing from the west village to the east through Washington Square Park. Not much on the brain. Unusually, he’s not looking for her today, the owner of the missing earring. Suddenly in his awkward flair he bumps into a girl. She’s pissed but he likes feisty ladies so this doesn’t deter him. He’s not interested in her at first, more concerned that he didn’t get any on his favorite shirt or on her or if he has enough left to drink, since Starbucks is way too expensive. Phew! No damage done, then he notices her eyes, that unexplainable something creeping behind them. He can see them laughing together, movies and museums, cooking and sleeping in, nightclubs and getting bored and going home. Making love over and over again. He can see fall, winter and spring. Everyday looking into those eyes. Because somewhere in there, he feels like everything he’s ever done makes sense, that everything had lead him up to this moment and she sees it too, or at least he believes she does, because if she didn’t see it, how could he? When it’s love it is one vision, one truth and both people know it.
He says something funny which is something he does well and she laughs which is something she enjoys and then, they say goodbye and keeping on walking. From west to east, east to west, but they both want to turn around, they can feel the energy like a magnet, but she’s late for rehearsal and he’s just shy and they both say to themselves, “If it was meant to be, I’ll see him, I’ll see her again.”
At least he hopes, maybe she was thinking the same thing.
He goes home and writes all about this brief encounter with a Goddess.
She goes to rehearsal and sings like never before and every time they both walk by that first place where they met, they look around for those eyes, that moment, see if they can catch each other again. Weeks pass and they forget all about each other mostly and they’re both out with their friends in a bar that’s too smoky and loud and they don’t feel like drinking or talking, maybe just reading or dancing. But the music’s not that great and if they read they’d just fall asleep, which actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Suddenly a friend of a friend knows one of each other’s friends and soon they’re all sitting together.
He notices her eyes, plays it off like he doesn’t know where he’s met her before. She doesn’t play dumb… “You bumped into me on the street…I smelled like chai all day!”
They talk and feel and listen to the silent wanting of their bodies with promise of another meeting, some place quiet so they can concentrate.
He calls the next day, she’s happy and they meet for dinner, Thai.
Conversation flows like water and the food is good. They split the check and go for a walk. The wind drawing them closer and closer. He takes her hand; Velvet. They don’t feel like their rushing…Mmm mm just right…they share a kiss under a tree. One soft, simple kiss. Mmm mm, just right…sweet dreams.
Tomorrow and the next and the next day after that. Love is growing, unknown, yet knowing. No fear, just yes, Mmm mm, just right.
One night he comes over to her house to watch a movie and he’s in her room when he notices her jewelry box sitting on her make shift dresser.
He is tempted just to look and see if she could be the owner of this missing earring, and yes, there it is, the dangling beaded lonesome spiral earring. The match to the one he had found at the movie theatre.