bear no better testament to time than those whose battered, weathered topplings have acheived.
There truly are no songs for the dead. We almost can touch them, taste them, Hear them.. And yet, They are still so long gone as to be intelligible to the living. They are only a moment, a piece of matter, a chord played quickly and forgotten.
Which perhaps is why So many choose to take that flying leap
and release themselves to the greatest of unknowns..
Which is
the nothingness of life. The vanishing point of no return.
Everywhere is a picture Every place a vibrant stream Of every type of soul unraveled Shining brightly in the pillowy heat
Every nook holds hidden flowers Glowing heavy green vegetation Spilling from the brick and terrace Sending out a warm vibration
Here every corner plays a music Makes you dance or sing or sway Brass bands play for all who hear them Steamboats key your cares away
Not Every moment might entice you There are still ones who make you cringe And yet they're saved by simple pleasure Precious beauty belaying every fringe
Which gets you wrapped up taken By viewing the lush and lovely pictures Playing out vivacious color Reminiscent of spiritual scriptures Reminding you that God Is in simply everything around you That life should be lived with reverence For all that does renew you.
Pt.2 - Meeting Aunt Jewel & Robert Vincent This is what it's like with Family You start to talkin' Reminiscin' See a person's history laid out before you You hear Their story Feel all the love that got put into them You see Their roots And from such tales Learn how they grew The aspect of their soul you were drawn to Put into words that are not your own A version different from the one you're used to Which finally explains how You could find them so uniquely wonderful And soon You are awash With memories that are not your own But shared they make you feel as if With Family That is How very special to find yourself embraced By his homecoming That is What it's like to be with family It is part of what it's like To be This in love
Pt. 3 - Big Easy
They call it Big Easy And so it is For there are washing machines waiting Where you least expect but Want them And "Hurricanes" flow freely And life is the channel Through which the water dances The pulse of time is efervescent So as never to let one imagine That they are pent up by it Or the fragility of space Fluid day to night Night to Day the warmth entangles Even the coldest of hearts And mine Is not the one to question If any of this is Real Or if it only serves imagination As affirmation of my every whim I wish i could stay here forever So as not to disrupt this balance Bounding out of my insides Into the crevices i capture So impressive in their lies to me That all is right in the world of men
