Thursday, May 16, 2013

Black and white.

How do you separate the small from the big?
How do you ask for something that is not yours?
How do you scream when your voice is borrowed?
How do you stop losing against yourself?

Where is the sane whisper?
The sound that cuts through the silence
And burns the cob webs?

That sounds like your mothers voice
So gentle so deafening,
So quick and free.

That abracadabra to your problem,
The free in your spirit
The moo in your cow.

Dreams get spun by talking to yourself
Under the shadow of a tree
That's green and amber.

Where are my dreams?
Where is the tree?
Where is the shadow that I need?

I could cry and cry,
Till my throat is sore,
And my eyes are red
Like the sun that's screaming for release.

Because black is black,
And white is white,
And the grey is just a color

Made up by the mind,
To take you all the way
Into a fog

That is so thick and
Deep and colorless as water
Till it's all just a never ending ramble.

Find me my voice or my shadow
And my black
Or my white.

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