LIFE

Spontaneous combustion...a thunderstorm in august...icy drops of ecstasy stinging your face...LIFE...your black and white world dissipates into a kaleidoscope of vivid color slung against the blank, gray canvas of your cerebrum by the ecstatic reverie of a tripping Picasso...LIFE...like bird shit hitting the windshield of your speeding car, like the kitchen wall after a toddlers suppertime tantrum, like the trail of bright red splotches on a Nashville sidewalk before the rain comes to wash away the violent, untold story...This is LIFE...Chaotic symmetry, vicious and sublime. Cycles and seasons, reasons and rhyme. Shapes shifting, faces smeared, what was is gone reality disappeared. Pyramids inverted, circles around squares, walls caving in exposing demons lairs. Captives set free of chains forged by fears, illusions of power melted by tears... of broken, leaking vessels of light... The eastern sky splits and the day destroys the night. He who has ears let him hear, the illusion of darkness will soon disappear. The sun sets in the western sky; before morning comes pharaohs first born will die. A sign from heaven shines from the east, the first shall be last, the greatest the least. Rise up my people the kingdom is here. Lift your eyes to Zion and forsake all your fear. You are the Remnant and your time is now. Confess allegiance to Freedom, to no other king bow.

Inez

i met her in a park i was passing through, she asked me to stop and play her a tune. (That always happens when i carry my guitar around) So i played a couple and she sang along, she told me her story and she sang me a song, sipping vodka on a blanket in the grass...she's a Cherokee Indian and a little bit white, smokes allot of rock and she likes to fight, been to prison 5 times met her first cousin in the pen. And that's as close to her family as she's ever been. She met Jesus at a tent revival when she was 15, got baptized in a river in the hills of Suwannee. says she's got a lot of forgiveness to ask for, she can't hear his voice anymore...She used to ride horses and hunt rattlesnakes, swim in the rivers and fish in the lakes, now she makes her living walking the street and she believes very strongly that you are what you eat, she says she's half rattlesnake and quarter-pounder with cheese among other things if you know what i mean... she said life's so different from back on the farm...i told her God still loves her and she said "i don't know...i think i'm too far gone." then she said she had to go. she was headed to work out on Murfreesboro road, "if i don't get a hit i think i'm gonna explode." she says she can't hear his voice anymore, she thinks forgiveness is too much to ask for... she thinks she's too far gone...

I Am The Rain

Metamorphosis in the street, longing to be complete, raging against complacency, rebelling against the cold blue steel of numbness, the prison of my burning insatiable hunger, the whirlwind of energy carries me precariously to the edge of apathy and throws me over the precipice so that i can rise over the paradigms on the wings of eagles, angels of the sky, translated into nothingness and everything simultaneously. A new birth, becoming once again a parcel of the universe, returning to God as a vapor rising to the heavens and back again to wet the tongues of the damned, the withering lilies of the field. Evaporation is completeness; stagnation is the stench of hell. Mid-day sun i rise to you so i can fall again, so i can fly again, so i can die again. Rise...Fall...Fly...Die...Rise...Fall...Fly...Die...Drink you withered lilies. Drink your fill. I Am The Rain.

Flow

Lose your illusions, find yourself, peel back the layers and put your dreams on a shelf. Lose your life to save it, if you save your life you'll die. Let go of your ego, you've got to fall to fly. Fall in Love, deny yourself control, reckless abandon, set free your captive soul. Let the river flow, let it flow to the sea, don't let your soul be damned break the walls and live free. Free to love, free to dance, freedom to just be.

Ain't Selling Nothing

They call me a loser but that’s an odd thing to state, how can I lose if I refuse to participate? I don’t play for money, power or fame; I turned in my jersey this ain’t my kind of game. I’m not on the field and i ain’t sitting the bench, I’m clothed in righteousness not Abercrombie and Fitch. The more that I lose the less that I lack, the yoke is as light as the shirt on my back. I ain’t selling nothing I’m here to give it away; the gift that I give can’t be exchanged for pay. I extend my love freely with my arms open wide with holes in my hands and a scar in my side. He who loses his life will find it in me. Come find what you’re looking for come find and be free.

Down in the Swamp

Sometimes it gets a little dark down in the swamp
The people are shady and the mud is thick, there’s a storm a brewing out in the sticks
Sometimes it gets a little dark down in the swamp
There’s a voodoo woman on the south side of town and the church is built on a burial ground
You hear screams and shouts and gunshots at night, the cops say it’s nothing just a family fight.

Feigning Deaf

I was twenty miles west of Davenport and I had whiskey on my breath, got pulled over by the police and I pretended I was deaf. He asked me for my license and I feigned I didn’t hear. I threw my jacket on the floorboard to hide those empty cans of beer. I attempted some sign language and he repeated himself slow, I squinted real hard to read his lips, I put on quite a show. After several failed attempts he went back to his car, as he drove off in disgust I headed back to the bar.