WEBSITE: —
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RECORDS: 69
LATEST RECORD: 1 day ago
JOINED: August 08, 2010
LOCATION: —
RECORDS: 69
LATEST RECORD: 1 day ago
JOINED: August 08, 2010
footprintsandshadows's Featured RECords
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My mother swallowed the moon and gave birth to moon beams. |
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[In a very volatile transition from Catholicism to Paganism I wrote this bit of slam poetry.] I listen and I listen and I listen to you You make my head and my heart hurt And sometimes the pain is so loud I just want to scream I don’t have to defend myself And I don’t mean to either You wave a book at me and you Think you have the answer. I’m here to tell you You don’t have the answer You’re not even close You hide and you hide and you trust In these passages and ideals The way you think the world should be The way you think people should act And you say that you love and you love But you judge and you burn with your words You stand and you protest And you tell people they’re wrong But what if you’re the one who’s wrong? You preach and you yell with the conviction That would drop a man to his knees But this book that you have That guards what you say That God sent these messages That we should follow But God didn’t write a single word And I don’t buy it These men wrote this book, this book, This book of reading Fantastical and mythical that is basis for Everything you say, every cutting word Every word, every word and God is the word And God said love and I love and I love And because I love I give women the right to choose I accept that a man can love a man I know that even if you aren’t my religion You’re on a path that will save you I believe, I believe, I believe what I say And I have the conviction behind it So don’t hide behind your book Because I stand here unarmed And God’s on my side too. |
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The hours drip gently into each other A faucet someone forgot to fix My world is full of faceless people Nightmarishly blending together A bell rings and Satan walks in Wearing black shorts and high tops He leers at me from under His thick black ski hat and Asks me for the girly cigarettes His gaze stays on me as he gets in His car and in the fire of his eyes I can see everything I will stay here in my personal hell Where the hours last forever And the words mean nothing |
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Andrea May was not entirely sane. Or, at least that’s what they said about her. It could also be said from the perspective of those around here that she seemed at all times to be hopelessly lost. If one were to find her on the street, one might be compelled to stop and ask her if she needed help finding something. If one was so inclined to such a courtesy. But from the perspective of poor Andrea May she was entirely sane. She lived with her head in the clouds but two feet on the ground. She saw the world through rose colored glasses. When people told her stories she saw other worlds. When she looked at ordinary things she heard music. She was bursting with creativity, enough to change the world. But people around her would say, “That Andrea May is not entirely sane.” |
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