A Blues Forooze (Virgin Steel Lips- Revisited)

{Inspired by Boney James "You Don't Have To Go Home}
A little outside my box, but this song was so cool, I had to write it...
~
Hey, I know you’re not suppose

To be here and I know you have go

But there’s a few things I just need to say…

A few things you need to know

Tell me, would you be surprised if you knew

I got a blues forooze called you?

I can’t front because you make my lies tell the truth

I can’t quite describe it as good as I sho it…but let me try

Umm…tell me sweetheart, haveyou ever been touched by words

Through unspoken lips

I mean your ears would listen

But it would be your eyes that heard

Oh, have you ever known love as an unselfish giver

I mean that kind of love that reaches down into your

Heart and makes your soul quiverOr kisses

That drip sweeter than molasses

Honey, I ain’t even gon’ ask

The story of abandonment dangles in your eyes

Let me comfort it-stay the night

Don’t tell me you have to go and I’ll ever see you again

Because it would have been better for me to be blind

So this picture of you wouldn’t replay in my mind

Darlin’ would you be surprised if you knew

The things I want from you?

Is nothing at all

Simply that other connection

When you pick up and call

Me for a little company

Tell me what you need

I left a second ago to get

To where you need me to be

This blues forooze

Is about to make me lose my cool

But I like it though is got me going insane

Funny, I know I’ll never have you

Close your eyes for a moment

And imagine feeling

Your tears sweat

And your apprehension forget

Don’t ask me because I can’t
Explain these blues

But wouldn’t you be surprised if you knew

How I try to shake you

From my mind

Only to turn around to

Find you’re taking my time

You got me bowing my head

Shooting rounds at these thoughts

But they refuse to stay dead

© Alya Landry 2008

Happy Sadness

I have a condition

Joy in my own rendition

Opposite of what the norm conforms

For my happiness takes the form of a storm

Called sadness

Yes indeed

I have a happy saddness

Wallowing in the blues

Showering in tears

Swimming in a lake of self-pity

Deep as oceans

At first glance it may appear as if I'm drowning

I shake my head to that notion

Your eyes are deceived by my motion

See, I'm not drowning

I'm one with the tide

I glide with the stride

Heavy waves to you

But calming waters to me

Don't think of it as madness

I'm happiest in my sadness

Just like your happiness

provides you feelings of grandeur

My sadness provides me with a comfort

That extends beyond your level of understanding

My sadness is not a weight that I carry

Nor a hate that I carry

My sadness is like a woman I'd marry

Been knowing her since the childhood years

She's always been around

She's the only constant in my life

Although she could never pick me up

She never lets me down

Always right on time

When the mood calls for it

Call me crazy

Doesn't matter

I'm at peace with my happy sadness

Fading

~

Did you fade away from my memory?

You stand still while time beats me

An echoing conundrum that is

Constant as unkind

Lodged in hollow space

I cannot reach out to feel you breathe again

Did you fade away?

Where did you go?

I dip my finger in the in the pond

That rest just below the cherry blossom tree

In an attempt to see your face reflecting in the ripples

I see nothing but the sadness in me that trickles

And the pain refuses to roll away

The rain begins to fall

And I am haunted by deafening sound

Each drop like a heavy thud-weightless

I am burden by sorrow

Begging for days gone to borrow

My tears and the rain

Meshed

Where did you go?
Did you simply fade away like a sunset

That somehow I chose to purposely forget?

That couldn't be because with each

Sunrise you fade vividly back into my memory...

© Alya Landry 2008

Sad Soul

I find myself often times more than I care to share a feeling of sadness. I guess the best way to describe this is how some people are known for always feeling happy, I feel the exact opposite, but the irony in this powerful emotion is that it's comfortable. I love to laugh and joke, but I feel at home in the skin of sadness...Nothing to go figure, that's just what it is.

My eyes

I reflect back with the eye of the mind
That third sight
The clearest of vision
To portray all that I have seen
Which takes me to a place
Called
The Ghetto

And in it, I have seen
The struggles of a people
Doing what they must to get by

I’ve seen hustlers always on the move
Always plotting, always planning
Walking, running, standing
In demand for those demanding
A taste of what they had
Magic dust
That impaired the third vision
And took them somewhere other than where they were
Although they never left

I have seen strength in the form of single mothers
Soft as cotton but tough as nails

I’ve seen nights without lights
Days full of haze
Project perils
And derelict ways

I’ve seen lines for free lunch
And very little for dinner
Picket lines
Dollar dreams
Lottery tickets
But no winners

I’ve seen summer days where the ice cream truck would ride by
But I couldn’t whistle to stop
For a Popsicle to pop
Because Pop’s had empty pockets
And not even a pot to piss in

I’ve seen playgrounds of shard glass
All concrete, no grass
Careful steps taken past a bloody syringe
I’ve seen stacks of old tires
And trash can fires
With men who stand around in a drunken binge

I’ve seen the worst of situations
That brought out the best
Of those who had less
But gave so much more

I’ve seen beauty within the beast
And those who would preach
That it wasn’t all bad to be considered poor

I’ve seen a world outside of my hood
And some places where I stood
Reassured me that in this world there is some good

I’ve seen people who shared flowers
Lovers that danced in rain showers
Proposals, and commitments, and love at its best

I’ve seen relationship trials
And relationship struggles
And quite a few relationships that withstood any test

I’ve seen the earth’s magnificence

Tall trees older than me
Mountains that touch the heavens
Oceans with endless bottoms
All with their own stories to tell

I’ve seen changing seasons
That has caused barren fields
To come alive with color and life
Only to wither away and restart the cycle

Which made me look at life in the same manner
So many people
So many colors
So many beginnings and so many endings
So many seasons taking place before our very eyes

Can you see it?

My Eyes

Regret is stronger than hate. With hate, one can change through knowledge, with regret one can never change what has been done.

© Alya Landry 2008

Fade to Black

The streets busy and rustling with the sounds that to the recluse would seem almost unbearable. The the streets that live and breathe, there is something electric here, something that feels strangley like another time and place. A place where women sat with big hats that hid shameful pasts at the bar with their crossed fornicated legs tempting the poor old sap to play her game. She knows all the rules. He loses and she starts again.This place reminds me of present reailty fading to black and white -where the once live streets breathe a slow and purposeful pulse. Where gentleman and ladies were accustomed to being called such. The tip of the hat that bid a good day and a stretch of a hand lent courtesy. I am interrupted by streaks of color that I desperately wish to ignore because this time is peaceful though it feels as though I stand strangely amid chaos. It is kind and though the colors chase me in and out of reality, my soul breathes the same pace as the deliberate pulse that calmly kept alive respect and dignity. And yes, the rustle of the trees are the same, but it is the harsh breeze of polluted streets and indifference that blows past me. I close my eyes so I do not have to feel of see color.

© Alya Landry 2008

My Eyes

My eyes have seen the perils of this life and cruelty of a world that is full of hatered and strife and yet in this very world the very thing that offers none of those things are the very things that have never uttered a word. Those are the things that we only observe in life. I wonder if language didn't exist, would we still find a way to hate each other? I would imagine so, because even the eyes tell of stories of hate.

Alya