Sometimes it really comes that fast. Some words. A little thing I happened to be playing with. A dream of music, just sound. I didn’t realize I sometimes dream like that. And an insistent feeling that this is important enough to share in a timely way, in a ragged place in my voice, unfinished, unadorned, and raw.

Revised lyrics from yesterday’s poem:

Take this heart of mine out of my chest.
And lay it beating in the snow. 
Did you even want to know?
What you’re doing to me.
How I wanted to believe.
But now I see

They say that god is the last stop
When you are all out of breathe
And you have nothing left.
There’s no longer a choice
Because they took your voice.
How you try to survive
And are barely getting by.

I am crying out
For my people in the street
The ones that you beat
And leave there bleeding in the snow.
Bc Justice in too slow.
There is only that below
(And never stops the blows).

A piece of paper is written with the law
The life blood of us all
Thin protection when your staring down a gun
What is it that you’ve done?

I call out for relief
My people dying in the streets.
But Justice has no teeth







a cleaned up demo: