Tag: art

Tip top over again,
The water drips down
The holy rim.
My cup runneth over,
Says the beggar to the thief.
Let's go over yonder
To see what to believe.
I yearn for something real
That grabs you one Saturday afternoon
When you're speeding around a curve
In the foot of the Appalachian hills.
Follow the preacher, the teacher,
The housewife comes and goes.
Pour the wine even better than before.
Lower the paralytic through the roof
To be healed by sacred hands.
Touch the robe of the holy one
And the ages of blood stop immediately.
Provide and share and they are blessed
Cornucopia all over again.
Fishes and loaves and ways to fill the belly.
Round we go, straight ahead, blindfolded.

I don't feel like going out today.
There's no one I want to see,
Nothing I want to say
To anyone around me.
Maybe I'll go back to bed.
Maybe I'll just rest my head
On this pillow on the couch.
Maybe I'll sink down,
I feel a slouch coming on.
I don't want to do anything,
So I'll just sit here
Doing my thing,
Not talking to anyone.
No, it's not much fun,
But I can't imagine another way
To isolate myself
And socialize.
The two don't go together,
It seems, and I am not so clever
As to think of something original.
Yes, I'd like to do something unique,
Something spontaneous,
It's the end of the week,
For goodness sake.
If you think of an idea
To help me overcome,
Whisper in my ear,
Or tell someone else
To tell me soon.
I've waited all year
For a chance to overcome,
But today, it seems,
Is not my lucky day.
I don't know
What I'll do with myself.
I guess I'll just wait here
For something or someone
To catch my attention.
Something to do
Is bound to happen.

Round we go, all the same
Til something new enters in.
A new twist on an old story.
An update to the scenery.
Someone gets creative.
Yes, I want to try to be me
In a different way.
To strike out on a blazing path
To turn my world upside down
And backwards.
I want to taste a new taste.
Fail in a different way
Than ever before.
To teach me something about life.

Dripping down, I feel my bones

Melting in the blazing heat.

Expectation and judgment closing in.

It is of my own creation.

No one else but me.

It echoes in the chambers

Of my heart.

It rings a hollow noise

Through the rooms of my soul.

My body clings

To what it desires.

My mind is weak

Compared to what it could be.

I yearn for something real,

Something true.

Something to fill

This empty bowl.

Fill my soul, Lord.

Just sitting here wondering why,

Wishing I was a bird in the sky,

Flying around in the breeze,

Instead of trying to stop

Knocking my knees. Oh, please,

Stop knocking my knees

Stop knocking my knees

I wish I was stronger,

So I could stop knocking my knees!

Have you ever wondered

Where your soul comes from,

And where it goes in the end?

Do you question 

Whether or not a spirit

Lives inside of you?

Do you think when it’s over,

That you’ll be riding on top,

Or are you afraid

You’ll be dragging behind?

I just want to be sure

Of some kind of victory.

It doesn’t have to be much.

I just want to be free.

And for What it’s worth

Please stop knocking my knees!