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They grin. They fly. They scream. They cry. They whimper. They grieve. They sing. They breath. They go back and fix The words they misspell They sing to their heavens For those that fell They bring all their worries To their churches with awe They whisper to God Their Buddha, their Krishna They take all their worries to the doctors with a sneeze They lay down their swords and fall to their knees Who are they you ask It's you, it's me It's everyone here It's this flower, this tree It's the bee buzzing by With pollen on her knees The whisper in the wind And the truth we all see They grin. They fly. They scream. They cry. They whimper. They grieve. They sing. They breath. They sit down to pray To shadow the ways Those prior have taken An oath and to say Their intentions are near All around 'em they sit Stood up in the clear To accept is it fit? We grin. We fly. We scream. We cry. We whimper. We grieve. We sing. We breath. We grin. We fly. We scream. We cry. We whimper. We grieve. We sing. We breath. 
Not sure if I'm remembering
It's been a while since Can almost see the words exactly If I give my eyes a squint I was sitting in the sunlight Out on an old park bench I recall it on a t-shirt All gray and faded and holy It took a moment for eyes to focus On what the words all meant Could see them all so clearly now No guessing what they said My mind can see the picture now Guitars and words and notes It's not inside the wooden bones Or from the neck of ebony tones They come from somewhere else you see The music's from up there in me I'm sure now I'm remembering It's been a while still Can see the words exactly Sitting on the window sill Standing in the moonlight waiting Binging on a phrase I still remember that t-shirt All gray and holy and faded The ethos holds all the words That could ever be It holds the phrases, pickin' licks For all our eyes to see If your eyes are held-a-shut Won't see what flies right by The moment'll pass right by your face Now you're just lookin' at the sky It took a moment for eyes to focus On what the words all meant Could see them all so clearly now No guessing what they said My mind can see the picture now Guitars and words and notes It's not inside the wooden bones Or from the neck of ebony tones They come from somewhere else you see The music's from up there in me 
https://www.pexels.com/@stephendn
Here is song #2 from the 2020 RPM Challenge. That's 10 songs or 35 minutes of original material written and recorded during the month of February. The key here is to not wait for inspiration. If you wait for it, it'll never come...or rarely anyways. This has been a fun experience and at this point I have three songs either finished or nearly finished. I'd say it's been a success already.
Below you can listen to everything I've posted to the site thus far. Enjoy. The tapping like the beat of a failing heart slows to a halt. "Next Stop Westport!" Jolting to a halt head dizzy from the shaking writing shaking stopping shaking breaking the silence along the tracks and then it's gone. "Next Stop South Norwalk!" Clicks and pops under feet. Giant trestles bend and give just a little under the weight. "Next Stop Rowayton!" New passengers every stop and old ones getting off. His accent different from the one before. A couple this time. Questions answers questions thoughts as the door between the cars opens with a sudden racket of the rails. "Next Stop Darien!" Financial chatter dinner talk reminiscing friendly walks internal dialogue drones on. The sun it draws closer to the water as lights come on in windows passing far and alarm bells ring when the doors shut closed. "Next Stop Noroton Heights!" Criss-crossing streets with headlights shining crossing under bridges below. Above the trees the daylight slows blowing clouds turning in for the night. "Next Stop Stamford!" Reflections in the windows bring scenes to life from both sides at once. Silhouettes dancing from right to left in the waning sky. The fading signs of graffiti look like dancing cave drawings in this light, dancing along our way to the city. "Next Stop Greenwich!" Incandescent lights light driveways overlooking train tracks, bridges, over passes under trestles. "What time do we get into the city?" Startled from my awakened slumber. "Next Stop Harlem onto Grand Central"  We're killing our babies
We're drugging our daughters We're sickening our sons There's poison in the water Pacing up and down the foyer Weak confused not herself Bridging thoughts from before Her stumble down the wooded plot I let her drink from which she waded Ran to the bank but she didn't go in It's like she knew we didn't see it Cascading waves all brimming with sin Shaking she began to fall Chased by a grizzly ready to maul Without strength can't move your legs Like a scream you dream to break We're killing our babies We're drugging our daughters We're sickening our sons There's poison in the water. It's on our shoulders this deathly struggle Drunk on pesticides genetics When you mess with natural orders She bites you back with razor sharp fangs She drinks the blood you spill to get richer and feigns her empathy downstream with death water We're killing all our sons and daughters There's poison in the water There's poison in the water There's poison in the water Emptied and filled with dusty masks
Bringing in unfiltered baskets Full of all the screams we’ve worn Capos fly over frets worn bare Over which was held a stare The tidings faith and feasts so true Brought us together in song in you The songs they echoed like cavern’s wishes Spoken words and strange predictions Oftentimes with goosebumps plenty On one leg or maybe two The blues held true in many an eye Alongside hope and community too These days they flew like a falcon in flight Swooping in and out of our hectic lives Although the time was miserably short Our brothers and sisters learned a thing or two We brought our gifts to one another Shared our moments we put to song Not long ago I didn’t feel I had a voice But the messages there begot my choice To choose my chosen words a plenty and put them on the parchment To speak those words on parchment’s surface To dig below our imagined surfaces To scream out loud and cry happy tears Of life of love on the canvas above |
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