Sing!
A Memory
A generation of glass eyes and houses and skies looked down on the honest faces of hopeful kids in green pastures. Regal ponies were seen fast running to the slaughterhouse still wearing their crimson collars and brass shoes I came running like the horses too All sweet smelling and sweat drenched whipped and pampered for the screams of those dot dot faces who smoke serious cigars And sit up there in the crowd. The crowd. The crowd. Always screaming too loud. Too loud to notice new born screams... the ones born in Appalachia, the ones born in Birmingham, the ones born long ago on the Trail of Tears Mancha Mancha ~ Amok Amok These were the sounds shaken from the branches of my first Amazon forest days and from the plastic carnage of the last Mardi Gras parade when I still loved you and you were still there to love I found factory life on my lost journey to the saving sidewalks that purred those moist noises in the night. I saw beaming headlights obstructing vision of all that was not of gossimer persuasion. I found shadowland entrances hidden under the hearth of roaring fires and cracking pipes and unseemly sewn city street quilts that explorer kids pull up close around their ears near the dark side of dawn as the try to snatch warmth from the cold zone of ransomed things. Things that push and tug and push and tug and push and tug at the hush.. the huSHHHHHH... the hush that holds the keys. Keys to sleep, to tigers and to happy boy days in the sun of a picturesque valley in a far away land where your sweet mama was singing... singing... hush little baby dont you cry you'll hustle in the city by and by But don't sleep little man don't close your eyes to the world that you have chosen back when you were big talk and starlight floating in and out of all a golden child could use and abuse Mancha Mancha ~ Amok Amok Things as they are have become... things as they have come to be. Press your scarred hand up to the glass - and push and bleed and pray! and push and bleed and pray! and push and bleed and pray! holy. holy, holy. holy, holy, holy. holy, holy, holy, holy. holy, holy, holy, holy, holy. HOLY! and push and bleed and pray... Pass Through. Let your brow sweat become your crown. You are the techno king of the dirty boulevard and the big time sky calls to you. And, so you jump up from the unlucky mountain to do your dance and to sing You SING ~ where no more loud sounds exist that can tear up the paper black night or pierce the last whenever clouds that hide someone cruel inside your critical skin You SING ~ like a skinny Chinese girl who just won a pie eating contest over at that gay bar in the East Village You SING ~ like a pretty pioneer who eats sharp lipped words through the pieces of another man’s desire You SING ~ like a Cherokee warrior You SING ~ to remember You SING ~ like the mind of a handsome woman who sits alone in public place with a bottle of cheap wine counting the cigarettes in a strangers lips around her You SING ~ like the mirror Everyone is a mirror if you look at them long enough. You SING ~ like sacred scars of sweet war jungle movements You SING ~ like kids playing strangle games with anaconda precision You SING ~ like ancient blood and scars and scarred love You SING ~ from the abyss confusing revenge with hope You SING ~ of justice to the suffering ones You SING ~ a theology of reversal You SING ~ to allow hollow things to open up inside of you You SING ~ to remember what it is to bleed You SING ~ to be in the presence of that thing that some call God. You open your throat and SING ! So, why does it seem that most days I got to get down on my knees just to beg you for a little harmony when I can already hear you singing Mancha Mancha - Amok Amok You and I are one - as has always been Look at me again... from the belly. Touch your lips to mine And together… once more, Let’s remember the forgotten song The one that saved us. The one that taught us to sing.
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Theo Edmonds, Culture Futurist® & Founder, Creativity America | Bridging Creative Industries and Brain Science with Future of Work & Wondervation®
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