#WriteFree365 – Day 322: Calls

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(Short, yet simple.)

You always answer my call. When I call, you come…

Feeling my voice in your ear
Greetings
Then commands after the opening
Mouths make sounds
Your nervous system plays Telephone
Once my message reaches your lips
They speak what you think you hear
What you want to hear.

#WriteFree365 – Day 319: Move Love

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(I love colder weather.  Day 319…)

Stay strong, live, lead.  Move love across the sea…

Every burden in your heart
Whether it weighs down your back
Or extends out from your sleeve as you drag it through terminal buildings
Part of your luggage you carry on as you fly
Is coated in love
Never throw it away
Security checks may search
But love will never keep you from being in the air.

#WriteFree365 – Day 153: Of Dreams To Come

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(I believe I wrote a few days ago that my mind and spirit were changing.  Something is happening.  I don’t feel “bad,” but there is a conflict of some sort.  The only way to resolve conflict is to continue heading towards it.  That means, I’ll be writing to a lot of jazz.  Day 153…)

“Of Dreams To Come” is an eight-minute record by the awesome Robert Glasper.  It’s mellow, yet uptempo.  Give it a listen…

When there is an earthquake
We’re told to hide
Find somewhere safe
Stable
Stand under doorways
Crouch under tables
To
Protect
Ourselves

Every heartbeat is a tremor
My soul rests on shaky ground
The rumbling rocks it to sleep
What is labeled natural disaster
Brings me peace
Even when monuments
Commemorating events and people
Crumble
Destruction keeps me alive
Because it keeps me building
And recreating
With knowledge of mistakes

These poems are seismic recordings of volcanic activity in my spirit
So if my needle doesn’t move
I will be extinct.

#WriteFree365 – Day 125: Enoch’s Meditation

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(Sometimes, the best way to find words is to remove them from your space.  Robert Glasper makes amazing music for that.  Jazz, man.  Day 125…)

No lyrics to this.  Just enjoy his interpretation of sound…

It’s like a civic duty
The right thing for me to do
Is write.
Apparently, I’m healthy enough to be considered a good donor.

I give
And give
And give
The needle enables habits.
Makes me an addict
Of the idea that it’s the thought that counts.

No matter how weak it leaves me
I love to give blood.
I do so with the notion that maybe
Someone uses my vitals
That I save someone’s life
Or I save my own in case I develop bad blood

Sometimes the life I save through science
Is my own.