it's official

wild and free
like the winds of change
straighten things out
but they still look strange
absent
but the sky is still blue
a cloud here or there
or maybe even two
years without
sun in eyes
listen close
might still hear the cries
down below
but above his perch
need some fire
peel pieces from the birch
tree white unlike
the other trees brown
so far above it all
how can he be down
to earth
with real sun artificial
he used to race with the rest
he's done, it's official...

on the roof too long

breakfast alone never tasted so good

with it could

everyday his head pulled out from under a hood

it keeps him warm

sometimes straying far from the norm

thoughts like bees swarm

creating pages

subjects ranging in ages

healing herb some think sage is

irie is this eye

catch one when it's dry

cloudless blue or black sky

Orion stares down on him from high strong

and some nights he is on the roof too long

waiting for the song

be the right one

when calm he knows he might have won

this time under bright sun

no use for a gun or knife under a coat

hating the water he is out on a boat

having it all wouldn't make him gloat

to make a point

keep it moving with a funky joint

no new guru to appoint

he likes the one he's got

whether others see it or not

a deep desire to go where it's hot

frozen in time and space

won't even recognize the face

these thoughts he can't erase...

living dead breath

halfway across the states

brother sits lotus and waits

anticipation in a homeward flight

dark dreams still in dim light

new morning rise with the strength of ten

men part of him fell picked back up again

how many times before

shoes off raining got him standing at the door

what's he waiting for confused under the wrong sign

waiting in a long line it's eleven thirty he got here at nine

where's the wine wait he needs a glass

pick up put down fell back on his ass

mumble a sort or ramble

lost at sea still willing to gamble

up late night he doesn't know the mind well

everything worth holding onto fell

deep into a pit wishing it was a well

with a bottom he could see

doesn't know who he is supposed to be

what's he got left

when is his body going to let him rest

everyone hears that living dead breath...

twelve days

morning until night
irie his sight
swirl through the day
quick stops he won't stay
in one place too long
before the end of the song
night becomes morning
without some kind of warning
completely off guard
to forget would be hard
to imagine or realize
first set of real eyes
he's seen in a while
never-mind the smile
no matter how far away
or how long it has been
somehow knew there would be a return
so many more things he must learn
morning until night
irie, his sight...