Tuesday, September 1, 2009
It's for true, I have to confess,
I'm without a place, yes.
I may be stinky and grungy all day.
But my smile still looks good, I really must say.
There's a storage unit in a car
with my name on it not too far.
Bags upon bags of toiletries and clothes,
of which my mind secretly loathes.
There is nothing so special about any of those things,
they are just materials that life continually brings.
Not having a place to call "home" is different though,
I'm positively certain that some of you know.
At the end of a long day,
you just want to play.
Your mind wants to settle,
on that hot water kettle.
My toes and my feet,
aren't smelling so sweet.
My hair and my knees
are smelling like peas.
I don't have a bed,
but I won't end up dead.
I don't have a room,
but I don't see my doom.
I don't have water or food,
But that ain't so crude.
I have my heart so content and full,
That my eyes you'll never ever see dull.
People ask me what's it like,
and I tell them my life is at a turnpike.
All in my head during the day,
I can't help thinking what if it stayed this way?
Friends of strength and friends of passion,
These ones you know, don't wear out of fashion.
They move me and house me,
With not one word of a repayment fee.
My guitar is so cold,
in that car so I'm told.
There's mosquitos settling in,
but for them there's no din.
I'm homeless you see,
but that can't really be.
I blessed and I'm cherished,
but I'm not yet perished.
I can be smelly and gritty,
and still look pretty.
I could lose all of my stuff,
and frankly not give a huff.
I'm homeless, you know
but still have plenty of places to go.
I'm just in transition,
So check what I'm dishin.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Lox, Lox, you really take your time.
Hours and hours of a backcombing lime.
You are as stubborn as me on a frustrating day,
Your sparatic nature; I refuse for you to be any other way.
You're tangling, and tearing,
tedious and overbearing.
You're obnoxious and fuzzy,
lustful and scuzzy.
The lucious, long hair that was there before,
you stole with conceit in all of your lore.
My head wants to thank you for all of your pain,
because after all this work, your ferocity will be my mane.
After days upon days of devoted care,
Your architectural design will cause quite a stare.
Once you committed to me,
others will see
that you and I are an irie pair.
Put on some Peter Tosh- let's shake our flair.