The Age I Live In
Oh Dear departed spirits from ages passed and past
how can I tell of what's beheld
short of bright eyes and gasps?
for I will try with words that fly
on raven wings I hope
and bring a tale to watch towers
gather hearts to listen close:
The age I live in
could be the era killing terra
terrified by terror
this figure eight is our error
maidens pressured to be fairer
and the bearer of our children
must mask their own beauty
and still bump heads on glass ceilings
I can’t explain it
how things can be so defiled
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
I can’t explain it
how the sun gave her secrets to a child
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
everywhere... and I mean everywhere is a hunting ground
even our minds are fair game if we let our guards down
our sounds, are offbeat syncopations
clashing loudly, under a canopy known as civilization
ironic plight, that the dead night
is the only time for clear sight
but look left and look right,
for the unseen eye can steal your light
our failures, are beyond your wildest imaginations
though i mean no disrespect, it’s an alien sensation
preservation is taken for granted
our scales are slanted and it’s moments, seemingly
before this paint slips from it’s canvas
imagine cryptic spider webs that thread
from mountain head to ocean bed
and we the moths that flutter, helplessly connected
the age I live in is livid and unforgiving
if your born deformed community hands aren’t enlisted
we drank from the trough, developed a cough
and perverted plants to ward it off
molded pots designed to break off
with half eaten meals left to rot
and it’s hard to scoff
when this ritual is day to day
sad to say,
but some vivid colors eventually seem grey
if a shaman lived on an island
could he picture life without waves?
I can’t explain it
how things can be so defiled
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
I can’t explain it
how the sun gave her secrets to a child
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
our lineage is traced through stars
but they are the stars of hollywood boulevard
men turned into gods whom we let invade our hearts
In the age I live in we’re driven
by smoke, smite, and ashes risen
the tender ear that listens
we’ve hidden deep within
valleys to allies, aloe leaves to alchemy,
alchemy led to allergies,
now we suffer our own maladies
additives and preservatives,
chemicals from furnaces
we don’t know what constitutes our physical
its no wonder men don’t know their own spiritual
essence
yet beliefs are shopped for
with less thought than a late birthday present
we can defy the sky with a glorified arrow
but we’ll crush a dragonfly or run over a sparrow
drip drops to drum pops, drum pops to hip hop
movements meant to soothe men
but in the age I live in we don’t stop
your age saw a tree spirit whose roots were locked with time
but in mine men come near it only to clear it,
on river beds they steer it,
to each a wooden palace made largely for appearance
so at night we hide in fright
from the forest shadow
oh how we fear it
I can’t explain it
how things can be so defiled
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
I can’t explain it
how the sun gave her secrets to a child
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
In the age I live in
youth is a battle against submission
our elders left at distance
parents aren’t apparent
for tribes are scattered from our vision
we decide against decision,
hand out lamps to elected men
sit around cynically
while we let them do our wishing
in the age I live in spirits are missing
it is in dreams we are living
and through life we are but drifting
fire sent through wires,
we study the art of liars,
we roam for hill top homes, better higher, better drier
a steady applier,
of paint on the murals of history
where time is so illusory
we can illustrate follies as victories
telling ourselves we own land
while sand falls through our hand
telling ourselves man is damned
so I needn’t trust who I am
I can’t explain it
how things can be so defiled
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
I can’t explain it
how the sun gave her secrets to a child
but these weapons we unleash can be made from the wild
the age I live in is
as strange as griffins
compare the mammoth tusk we’re given
to the beast we imagine
it’s hard to fathom:
huts scraping clouds
clouds that spout from metal mouths
a hundred thousand herds deprived of the ground
I try make a sound
though sound is hard to escape
it’s hard to hear the truth
when static pollutes the landscape
picture:
a family so overgrown
that all it’s members can’t be counted
let alone known,
so when I’m not home
I’m in search of my sisters and brothers,
but it’s a task monumental
just to get to know one another
but one another’s all we have,
and somehow this sentiment's not all lost
for I’ve roamed so far from home
and though I found far apart
a tribe is still connected,
perhaps I speak to you now
speak through me somehow,
brothers, sisters, rainbows, sounds:
“for if the age we live in drowns
then we are forced to find gills
because in spiritual warfare,
you can never kill what spirit fills
though love does not see battlegrounds
just ungrounded battled wills
and love will unwrite swords and tanks
for love has ink and quill
so sleep yourself,
and make of light
the as yet unhappened of tomorrow
everything will be all right,
hold faith in elder promise
sleep oh restless spirits
as the djembe strums hum under hollows
everything will be alright,
our age has pages yet to follow
sleep oh weary wayfarer,
untie your dreams for Father Sky to borrow
sleep us all a prayer,
pray thee brave, pray as Tonto”
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