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Sound of Silence – Specters in the Dark – Live

In my professional practice I am privileged to go with people as they grapple with the unknown parts of them.  When the noise and motion of life wears thin.  When the same old same old finally gets old.  When the same patterns of mistake and pain become tired and begin to loose their grip.  Souls turn into the unknown, toward the Silence.  Similarly our culture gets lost in the noise and motion of living and neglects that which is hidden.  As with the individual so to is the culture.  Careening toward destruction with stupid smiles on our fat bloated faces.  Fighting over the cure for symptoms while neglecting the root causes.  Soul’s authority surrendered to some pseudo-savior, whether it wears the masks of State or Religion, it is a false hope.  We each bear responsibility for the darkness in our world as well as the light.  The Silence unaddressed grows like a cancer.  But Our job is not the World but rather it is ourselves.  And we can manage that.

Specters in the Dark

A cry, a soundless wail in the distance

Calls, seeking relief, redress

Images, memories emerge, awaken

Wanting to enter

Wraith at the horizon, the boundary of vision

Treads, leaving no prints except those familiar pathways in my soul

I grieve the dead

I mourn the now cold life that was

Ought is now not and haunts me still

But what have I do to with specters in the dark

Except, breathless, trembling I turn

Knowing the wraith is me

Weeping alone there in the shadows

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Baby Thicck with 2 Cs – Live

Baby ThiccK

They ask me what it is

That keeps me hanging round

And why no matter where I go

It’s her to where I’m bound

Now if you really want to know

You better listen quick

Can you hear my sound . . .

Baby’s Thicck, with 2 C’s


She asked me  . . Do you promise to Funk, the whole funk, and nothing but the funk?

Baby’s Thicck, with 2 C’s


She’s so high I can’t get over her

She’s so low I can’t get under it

She’s so wide I can’t get around her

Baby’s Thicck, with 2 C’s


She said . . . This is your chance to dance your way out of your constrictions

Baby’s Thicck, with 2 C’s


They used to call them groovy

They used to call them fine

Then baby got Phatt texting pictures of her behind

Some girls will

Some girls won’t

And some girls make me sick

But I can see no other girl cause . . .

Baby’s Thicck, with 2 C’s

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“Sound of Silence …what does it mean”

The headgame of politics goes on whether the Reds or the Blues reign. The poor still starve, children are still sold for sex, the bombs fall, the people still sleep. It is a frightening thing to enter that place. Who dares go there? There is no real truth without its inclusion.

There is so much we don’t attend to. We are distracted by the noise and can’t hear the truth that has no voice.  Listen. Be still. Give it voice. Your voice.

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