Thursday, September 24, 2015

Backbone Mama

Ain't gonna break this backbone

Oh no

I've seen heartache and pain

But I know how to rise again

Like a Phoenix in the sky

You won't see this baby cry

I'm gonna rise

Oh rise again

Like a Phoenix you can

Depend on it

Ain't gonna break this backbone

Ain't gonna tear her down

I've seen heartache and I've seen pain

But I know how to rise again

I so can tell you wow so many stories

But I've finally found my own

Two feet planted on the ground

Ain't gonna break this backbone

Oh, oh no

I've seen heartache and I've seen pain

But I have learned how to rise again

Like a Phoenix in the sky

You won't see this baby cry

Like a Phoenix in the sky

I will rise

I will rise

Got my feet planted now

Got my mind in control

Know where I'm head'in to

And I ain't gonna depend on you




Note:  I will provide chords later. 

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Dance

Dance is the emotional expression of life.  The cadence of the platoon.  The tribal ones who rally for a moment to hear their elders chanting in the distant wind.  The plea for peace from the harshness of the street.  Dance is the misinterpretation of meaning trapped in the norm of religion.  Wings of freedom demand dance to set the heart at ease in the forest and jungles of a mind trapped in time.

Dance is the choreography of the painter's pallet released in Tahquamenon Falls. The spirit driven soul to survive the wind and cold.  Dance is the child's moment to gleam in the shadow of. Mr. Bojangles. Dance is the commune of spirit.

Dance is generational  the story told without words, but through actions that reflect the culture, the influence, the life of those who've stretched a hand to share the story of ancestry.  Dance is the transcendental womb song. The tear that flows from the pores and eyes of the one, who slays his fellow man in the congruent moment of destiny, that grants one life and the other death.

Dance, the cobbler's shoe, lost in the field of a new generation. Those who fail to see, the art upon the foot, restored by the artisan, who understands the dance of movement.  The shoe shine man told the tale of hard times, but kept a smile on his face despite the task at hand.  Let not the stories be forgotten of a by gone era. The street sweepers moving in unison to retain jobs in desperate times.

Dance is the purest reflection of self.