C9 On The Run, I come from the Sun
back into the Sum of One, I Become
Dialed In, En Route to the Oort
Out the Loosh Into Greater, Denser, Absolutes
Into the Great Flame, I find the Center Truths
now I'm Questing, got me High on Ankhs and Infinitudes
a Total Resurrection
I Jettison towards Greater Intercessions,
by the 9th Power I Rise in Light
the Great Solar Crucifixion, I now Fly, Ever Of Life
Into Heavens Gates, I Just might Ignite these Plumages of Light
my Birth Right requires I Seek Heights
Seek, Surreal Eagle Flight, I let my Soul Fly
Full Speed in Hawk Sight
I Beam Bright in Laser Precision Flight
Thriving Off the Greater Mind, Fly High Be Thy Light Percussio
I Go, where Energy Flows, in Ever Infinite Flow
Down Inner Luminous Roads
In comes the Super Light Percussion, Light Strikes I've Mastered Thy Soul
Blazing Wyld Forever Forth
Forever North, Light Smites the Night, like a Wyld Horse
I almost didn't make it to be here today,
So sit back and let me tell you the story my way.
I was walking out of the store one day
when some guys wanted to take my life away.
Bullets started flying, people running for cover.
They shot me three times, over and over.
As I lay on the ground, I'm screaming for help.
Had to crawl out of the street and dialed 911 myself.
I'm laying there dying, and the Angel of God spoke to me and said,
"My son, I'm with you here today, and you're not dead."
That's when I closed my eyes, and the ambulance drove away.
I woke up from a coma; that's when I started to pray.
God spared my life. He loves me so much.
I talk to Him every day now with a heavenly touch.
We began signing our songs
dancing in the grass, we laughed
laughed and laughed until couldn't
feel the grass. Notes in the tree, keeping
secrets as the wind blows. A dark cloud
flown above you and the darkness arose.
The sorrow began that day, but blind
to see it, as kids were imagine fairly tales
but not the evil that drains beneath it.
The wind changed that day as I dialed your
number.
A conversation turned happy then dark,
That silence on the phone is what drifted
us apart. I didn't hear from you again
and my world fell apart.
We were supposed to be doctors
And nurses together now I'm looking
At you 6ft under wishing that
Dream saved you.
Now the weather has changed.
I cry and cry everyday after saying
your name.
God has a plan not sure we do.
God said come my child I listen
why didn't you?
I miss you my dear friend
he was bewitched by the beauty so fast, we knew
she must have been a Southern witch from Al-Be-Que
he met her one night by the light of the moon
in no time she had his heart dialed to swoon
we could not talk him out of being mesmerized
it was like our cousin was completely hypnotized
we warned him, she’ll be gone the day after Halloween
He said he did not care, he wanted his beauty queen
Halloween night we saw them holding hands
They locked their arms, down by the sands
You just see we told each other, she’ll be gone after Halloween
That night they both left together, and were never again seen
He was a boy,
innocent in ways the world
never gave him credit for,
caught in a storm bigger than his sins,
over sentenced to concrete walls
and steel doors that closed too heavy
for twenty-six years of life.
Prison tried to harden him,
tried to carve away the soft edges,
tried to teach him silence,
but he dialed anyway.
Every day,
four, five times a day,
his voice pressed through the static,
“Hey, Mom.”
A lifeline in a place
where men learned to hide their love.
The others laughed,
rolled their eyes,
mocked him for needing her still.
But he only grinned,
chin lifted,
and said what most men
were too hollow to confess:
“I’m a mama’s boy.
You’re just jealous
your mommas don’t love you that much.”
And in that moment,
he wasn’t an inmate.
He wasn’t a number.
He was a son—
calling home,
reminding her
and himself
that innocence wasn’t dead,
not while love still had a voice.
He was a boy,
innocent in ways the world
never gave him credit for,
caught in a storm bigger than his sins,
over sentenced to concrete walls
and steel doors that closed too heavy
for twenty-six years of life.
Prison tried to harden him,
tried to carve away the soft edges,
tried to teach him silence,
but he dialed anyway.
Every day,
four, five times a day,
his voice pressed through the static,
“Hey, Mom.”
A lifeline in a place
where men learned to hide their love.
The others laughed,
rolled their eyes,
mocked him for needing her still.
But he only grinned,
chin lifted,
and said what most men
were too hollow to confess:
“I’m a mama’s boy.
You’re just jealous
your mommas don’t love you that much.”
And in that moment,
he wasn’t an inmate.
He wasn’t a number.
He was a son—
calling home,
reminding her
and himself
that innocence wasn’t dead,
not while love still had a voice.
I picked up the phone and dialed my mother directly
I miss you, I told her.
She laughed, for she is with me always.
Can I talk to Dad?
He was right there
waiting to say he no longer had Alzheimer’s.
I forgot to ask Mom if her cancer was gone
but there were so many others to speak with.
Duno Brown was next.
Duno and I taught Sunday School together in 1984.
She was 73; I was 32. I had never laughed so much in my life.
I was thrilled to speak with her.
We talked and laughed and talked and laughed and talked.
I never wanted to hang up.
It seems to me
when I’m out and about
that crowds are getting smaller
when the chit-chats are heard less and less
and the kids run away with no spoon
It surprises me
when grannies roll away
when neighbors are not in want of anything
when bullies decide to bully each other
when the postman never rings even once, ever
It startles me
when buses and trains don’t run during peak hours
when twenty-three-hour restaurants are closed
when the local hospital is out of town
when I dial 911, I hear a recording, “The number you’ve dialed has never been in service!”
It stuns me
when my family doesn’t know me
when my spouse ain’t heard of me, giving me the ringless finger
when I knock on my neighbor’s door, they knock me out
when I go to the confessional, there’s a recording from a local law firm giving me legal advice
It shocks me
when my best friend became my worst enemy
when my worst enemy became friends with Hannibal Lecter
when I pray to heaven, the bible falls on the floor
and when I said, “What the hell was that!”, there was a knock at the door.
I dialed your number and listened as it ring
I hoped you would finally answer the phone
You are the only person that felt like home
You can remove this feeling of being alone
I listened and the phone continued to ring
I knew you wouldn’t answer but I had to try
The last time we talked it ended with a fight
With a few clothes you left with no goodbye
I often play that night back in my mind
Each time I try I can’t convince you to stay
And each night it’s the same as it was then
You walking to your car and then driving away
It’s been months and nothing’s changed
It still hurts and I struggle to get through
Today would have been our anniversary
I only called to say sorry and I love you
Sear my heart, O rampant rage!
Simmer deep within!
Scour, devour this rusty cage!
What it takes to win...
As below, thus up above?
Not in this fair world.
Raptor hawk, guard well the dove?
Dead man's fingers curled...
Golden sparks to signal?
Attention that will get!
O prospectors, pill or pall?
Does it pay to fret?
No! Indeed not, my wild child!
Red run reconciled?
Crocodile in Nile beguiled?
Doubt and dismay dialed.
Tiled like floors in ancient tower?
Which architect planned?
Nightshade, is thy milk a-sour?
Blighted by the banned.
Is the ocean welling up?
Where the wound began?
Ark of Covenant, thy cup!
Revenant, how you ran!
Mutilation! Mutiny!
Murder in the streets!
Something lurking we can't see?
Have you seen the beats?
Reservations kept for six?
Bring thy crucifix.
Sullen heat out in the sticks?
Candles without wicks.
Fix it up, O soldiers!
We really must make do.
He who survives, first deters!
Ask the wallop hoo...
classy as a diamond ring
razzlng and dazzling throughout the night
these sweater wearing roosters are sparkling
razzling and dazzling throughout the night
foghorn leghorn forming
dialed in the farm yard run
roosters my word
strutting with pep
do nothing wrong
in this manure and goo
Sing’n with gusto into morning dew
These sweater wearing roosters are sparkling
Razzling and dazzling throughout the night
Foghorn leghorn forming
Dialed in the farm yard run
Roosters my word
Strutting with pep
Do nothing wrong
In this manure and goo
Sing’n with gusto into morning dew
these sweater wearing roosters are sparkling
razzlng and dazzling throughout the night
these sweater wearing roosters are sparkling
razzling and dazzling throughout the night
these sweater wearing roosters are sparkling
razzlng and dazzling throughout the night
these sweater wearing roosters are sparkling
razzling and dazzling throughout the night
these sweater wearing roosters are sparkling
razzling and dazzling throughout the night
Sure as stars shined she stumbled.
Falling.
A fierce lightning rod flickering
wild sparks.
Put the appetite front and center.
Boss map.
Hard hands callused to the bone,
dialed in.
There’s nothing lucky about it.
She fought.
Pause and pull over
To get funny wildflowers from their roots
Let your hair down and dance in the rain
With your butterfly-covered boots
Let your mind wander as you sleep
And get lost in the twinkling tent up above
Remember to laugh and roll the windows down
Being real and present with how you love
Sing out loud and be silly
Never say goodbye to your inner child
Pick up the phone and talk to those dear
Not living in the regret of wishing you had just dialed
Immerse yourself in the unknown
With the Lord by your side
Facing fears and embracing your failures
With confidence knowing you tried
Live moment by moment
Let your dreams soar on high
Learning to be still and at peace
Hearing the breath of your own sigh.
There's this girl
And there's this guy
Everything changed
When he said "hi."
She laughed.
He smiled.
His number
She dialed.
They talked all-day
All morning, all night
Her voice was cute
Her heart was bright.
Months have past
She must be the one
She said she loved me
Which hit like a ton.
One tragic day
I had been waken
She wasn't there
She had been taken.
Taken by,
Another man
My heart sank
Then I ran.
This is a fear
I have thought
But does it matter?
I have forgot.
It doesn't matter
For I am wrong
Because you're not here
Because you're gone.
An old gaunt lady
With feeble steps
Walked to the red telephone booth
On the roadside pavement
Every day she dialed a number
And spoke inaudibly into the receiver
As tears streamed down her crinkly face
This continued for an hour
Until she resigned for the day
Hoping for another heartfelt conversation
A baffling mystery unsettled us
Spectators to this daily drama.
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