The Sounds

Immobile Spirit Rain Dance

Immobile spirits dance the motionless dance

sing the silent song...clap

the inaudible clap

All She asks is to quench the desire

to calm the storms, to encounter the peace

Peace so healing, peace so precious

Peace so internal, so rare, so genuine

Sounds of conga drums and

soul-shaking poetry

feed the Spirits unselfishly

Damned to play invisible hopscotch

like a child on punishment

Like a flock of butterflies from one cocoon

confined...bound...restricted...hopeful

Immobile Spirits dance

the motionless dance

 

Dance on, Spirits...DANCE ON!

It was a blend of Billie Holiday and electronic beats

That thrust Her back into the realm of the material

It was the loudness of your thoughts tapping gently at Her window, which provoked the anticipation you’re feeling right now.

(...you're feeling it right now!)

 

Who could it be She pondered, ever so slightly

What news could be beckoned from within my space

“Speak to me!” She cried, “…no shyness upon Thee!”

Speak to the Voice Without a Face.

(...without a face?!)

As She weaned Herself from the nourishing breeze

Man-made vibrations disrupted Her thoughts

There were 5 baby butterflies giggling over tea

When She danced to the tune of fiber-optics in sync

(…fiber optics in sync?...hmm...)

Voice Mail (at the Tone)

No Faith Gone (Cut to Chase)

If I were to pick the dandelion from the shelf before it had begun to croon

If I were to turn in front of traffic just to relieve my anxiety

If I were to kiss you goodbye before you could even open your mouth

Or withdraw from humanity altogether…

 

Then I would never know how the weed got there to begin with

I would never know what was on your mind

I would never have touched your skin again

And you would never know why

 

If I were to disappear from the face of this earth

If I were to scratch my name from the slate of time

If I were to fall asleep before the stroke of twelve

Or cry before I saw your face…

...then I would have never found out who won the election

I would never have known your middle name

I would never be able to wipe the sleep from my eyes

And you would never know why

 

If I were to walk through the sand and run into a wall

If I were to smash my skull into tiny bits

If I were to die in my sleep before I finished this poem

Or get lost in a straight-jacket that didn’t even fit

 

Then I would never need lotion for my ashy feet

I would never have to think of you again

I would never have completed this run-on sentence

And you would have never known why

The Ultimatum?...yeah alright

You steadily ignite the sting in my cheek

As soon as the redness begins to fade

You rekindle the coals with the palm of your hand

Love me My Pet…love my every moan

 

You will love me only if I cater to your spills?

But my cup runneth over too…what can you do about that?

Can you cater to mine?...can you dance the dance?

Will you play the song that I long to hear?

Your needs seem to cause no dilemma to me

My hand…my mouth…my toe…my tongue

 

But would you be willing…or shall I say, able

To play my song the way I want to hear it?

It won’t be a problem even if you aren’t musically inclined

Just so long as you are able to carry a note or two…or three

Maybe it’s just me…but if you carry my notes

Then believe, Baby, I will carry yours.

Listen to More!

All rights reserved. © 2012-201821 by PM Atwood / Witch Hazel Widow Productions LLC.

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