If I Spoke

If I spoke from the heart and you could hear
You would ride the sound
Back to the beginning and see who you really are.

If I spoke from the heart, my tears would be a river
Running into the sea, an Ocean of sweetest water.

If I spoke from the heart, my joyful laughter
Would fill the universe
And ring the galaxies like a wind chime

If I spoke from the heart, you would hear my voice call
From time past, present and to come
All our wounded children– It would heal them, every last one

And the world, if ever it were, would be whole again.

Two in The StreamPhoto by Rayn Roberts

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To a Friend Who When I Asked How She Was After The Pulse Massacre Replied, “Just shoot me too.”

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Will you smile real pretty when I pull the trigger?
Will you let a squadron of dragonflies carry you
By your nipples and hair into a green forgetful sky
By your toes, your nose, the white fuzz on your ears?
You will forget the red and blue years
Sailing a typhoon of moonlight, money and mercy
Mercy for queers, money for roses, so many
You can give one to every hobo-drunk in the world
And ten for me, your god-forsaken rebel.
If I whirl a twister of wishes and dreams
To right the wrongs we have brought upon our children
All the animals and insects gone to extinction
If I gather the lint from our toes, sox, bras, underwear
Into a sudden mighty wind and knock the leaders
Kings and tycoons off their murderous feet for good
To say there is something very different from
What they promise and what we get, my dear
Will you smile, will you smile, will you smile real pretty?

emogun

 

Potential

for Will Petty in Blaine
or wherever he is .

There he is that sassy kid
Head full of wit and fire

Walking the hills like level ground
Hand in a sack full of plums.

Cocky, wild, full of himself
I wish I were more like him–

Take the heat from a flame,
The strut from a cock

The leap and kick from a kid
Break the heart of a nation!

Let be, let the boy go
Who can say

When he eats that plum
Where he spits that pit

A tree will not rise tomorrow?

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Christmas Morning

Christmas Morning

 

There was a sidewalk troubadour, twelve-string in hand
He said, “Come hear me warm up my guitar man …”

A vagabond in rainbow poncho pushed a shopping cart
Decorated with snowman, reindeer, garland and a sign that read,

“Happy Xmas, I’m homeless, please help.”

A red, white and blue wolf visible only to me,
Moved him down the street nipping at his heels.

A group jammin’ to a jazz trumpet and drum called out,
“That guy’s a taco short of a combination plate!

Their laugher filled the sky… The full moon floated
Like an empty plate– I wanted to walk into the desert
Find the place where heaven split apart and fell to earth…

I wanted the earth to open and swallow me up, but
The troubadour sang a song of three ships in a harbor

He sang, “And all the bells on earth did ring on Christmas day

…in the morning…”

An angel, audible only to me, sang into my ear,

“And who will ring the bells for the poor on Christmas day

… in the morning?”

The singer he was warming up, He sang for me
He sang for the bum, Christmas morning:

Monday night, December 15th.

 

 

 

 

 

Revisions here by Rayn Roberts 2016

Published in different form December 2005 in Turbula

(originally published in “Jazz Cocktails and Soapbox Songs,” 2003)