Tight Walk

Ready
To sound out the tunes in my mind...
Playing it small, playin for keeps,
Stead of just sitting,
Watching, being,
Breathing,
Believing.
The taint in me,
Ever-sound,
The roar in me,
Ever loud,
And I see myself spittin,
Game,
To the crowd,
Watchin em
Grow loud,
As I stand,
And take a stand, podium or a mound,
Soul grows so loud,
All I need now,
Is a my little soapbox,
And a crowd,
Of millions...
Will she ever be?
Ever be everything..

Everything,
She's wanted to be...
Unleashed force of lethal idolatry...

Cuz, ya, that's right,
I have
My God.
My God & Me,
And nothing seems to sound,
Like my soul
Against a new cloud,
The background of some melodious beat,
Some new tale, and new whisping motions in me,
When I hear
The melody...
When I hear
It move oceans in me,
And they expect me to speak,
Be a big girl now,
To a crowd
Ever frightened, ever afraid to be-
All of us growing up now,
Balancing the tight walk
Of in between,
The right walk of fate and destiny,
The tight walk,
Of everything
Ever gathered,
In you, in me,
In our lives,
Our mother's, and all the tears and reasons why,
They hold all our cries...
Our lovers, and how they substitute
For the lack in our lives...
And spitting
Is believing in God,
Believing in the beauty
That outlasts
All the lies,
Labels,
Illusions
Owning pieces
Of each of our souls!
Spitting
Is believing,
The raw form of God
Through art,
Nothing beautiful,
Just created. Just being!
Raw, in it's story telling and story told,
In it's excursions and dreams,
Raw in its presence and denounced "have" to be's!
You see, cuz when I spit,
The earth shatters through me,
Raining down all judgements now,
Proving now,
No good,
No bad,
Just who
And what
we are...
And if
We could just for once take an honest look at our souls,
We would understand the trite,
And lessen the fright...
We would lay down the tears, and worries,
And know that that which we WANT,
Will come to pass.
We would be free to love, and to be loved,
And we would learn how to let go gracefully,
As a responsibility we carry,
To the freedom of others;
Every soul,
Our responsibility,
And
Our responsibility not...
The honesty will feed
Our compass,
And the truth will hold our grace,
One man tells me he loves me,
And I dream of another man's face.
And I see, the tight rope,
But I can't tell if I'm still walking it,
Or if this had been all but a dream.
Ever feeling like I've fallen,
Yet ever knowing love,
Ever losing and regaining love of self,
Like a game of roulette
Every
Time.
They pull at my wounds
Dancing in psalms,
And I weep, letting them,
And stroke the hand of a fate I paint dark, black,
But I know,
Deep down, beneath,
I am
Only light,
And I see the light in souls
Mirrored back to me
Like a kerosine Lantern,
Flame encased.
Never escaped.
No matter how dark
It gets
In there.
It gets dark
In here,
And as I juggle fate
And walk this tight rope of dark and heavy to my left
Light and Fairy, to my right,
I hold in my heart the burden,
As if my plight
Is humanity's.
As if for what they renounce,
I carry...
I know this now.
See this now...
About me.
About this tiny frame
Of a gargantuan Angel...
And it is a lot
I contain
Within.
Driving. Dry Heaving.
Just breathing.
And walking

This tight-rope of fate. . .