Yell'n

I've seen so many things, the death of all that should not have been
I've seen the sky black, the ground grey, the tree dead, the grass sway,
sway away, away, away.
I heard the howl of the night, where cool cats of old played and told,
stories in the dank back rooms of jazz clubs, spoke of sweet freedom
somehow found the grace to continue in the heat, dense, forest
of broken Harlem, broken New York City, broken world
That howl, driving those many out towards the death of a generation,
of everything that generation had to offer, like some collector waiting
or perhaps darkness came too early for those wanting to break out,
get out, get even, get real, get far, get freedom.
Oh sweet freedom, sweat it out, speak it, swear it, love and despise it.
Sing us a song please? of concrete jungles, steel structures (breaking bending)
people living too close together, the TV goddess which harms our brain children
death of imagination, streets going no where ending every where.
That Song would last a long time, the city would move toward evening then day
the ghosts of those poets long dead, few remembered, would break out
beating which ever, what ever rhythm they wanted, a confused bunch
raising hell or voices or hope or whispering in pain.
That city would live long in the presence of those great, who marched
by numbers, deaths, songs, lives, crys, who carried us forward,
though we had yet breathed our first breath, we who would soon forget
the triumphs of what they fought so hard to give us, show us, force
on those yet to be imagined or dreamed of in that darkness before
golden years of light or sun could be risen from ash or dust or death.
So death has taken away the past and will someday take me too, but the city
this city with its concrete steel boned rock strewn streets will bend
mold melt renew into new concrete glass heights which still forget
still back some over others other kinds different kinds new kinds.
City oh my city darkness and light, in the molding of brick buildings which
hide the people of lesser means, minds, money, hope, or brings the spotlight
out against those trying to get by, get lost, get forgotten, get get get.
I dream the death of the past and wondered what the future will say of me,
of my dreams past future needs hopes family friends, ruff cut diamonds
or polished brass till trumpets sounds and call us up away anew.
Maybe I'll just howl ramble start yell'n wondering where and how and by,
till the movement changes morphs moves, till history gives us more information,
when we find a real relationship or rivers running deeper in rage
or through green pastures with all that is left of shambles and life.
Yell'n Yell'n Yell'n that all that I am will like those of the past,
leave something remotely interesting or maybe just words, which
like a Bard everyone studies, words, words, words, might be all
letters in random connections groups writings of madmen and liers.
And in the jazz filled rooms dripping in drink drugs and damned girls,
something was born that freed those words, people, animals, humans.
Blood red, our connection or maybe our separation, one always over the other
yet everything always together, separate together two and one and more
everyone whats that history to be different or theirs or better or true
so some memory planted can live with little water or die on the floor
like so many do, a rat in the sewer redeemed or not still a rat.
So tell me what you think of that history we share, the human race
racing towards some end need hope dream future unknown unheeded unneeded
can we free our selves from systems governments religion chains pains
while keeping hearts minds and bodies inline with our souls with each other
can we keep all together and still remember our blood is all red?
Hubcaps cool cats deathtraps hard raps needs and beggin' in the dark streets
this city will remember what I didn't do will bleed my dreams out
onto the concrete streets which vomit up my life and gives me my dreams
on street corners subway trains stone bricks or empty fields out of reach
of the night lights which search me out and go right through me.
And all those words thoughts dreams hopes needs given down the rabbit hole of
some demented nightmare prepare to keep us still keep us in
so that history can not teach us a lesson nor future learn a truth
till darkness dies lit to the extent and blood cleans white
till freedom means enslaving every man women and child to love
till words loss meaning and keep repeating that age old answer
till someone find and speaks the whole truth, I'm yell'n.