We Were Free (this was a dream)

In my dream it had all come true and it was beautiful. It wouldn't go away even though I tired my sabotage because it was love. It was bold and brave and confusing. It was like a long over due midnight confession. I lost it but it was only right next door. When I thought I had lost it all I found an old church lady and she let me borrow her God and we prayed. For it all not to be too late. And it wasn't. It was disturbed by others but you only thought of them as passing companions.  You searched for me in the sun and the ashes. Always looking for your A alike. We made music and art together. You were brave and tall and skinny. I had a big mouth and was curious and lacking trust.  He was adventures and too trusting. It was love and we had finally figured it all out. In a small town in my imagination. Where I knew everyone but had forgotten them all. Where my ancestors and old neighbors came to lend a helping hand to the divine plan. We were free and brave and talented. We trusted one another.  We gave it all to the thought. Together through it all and it was never too much to overcome. My hair was short and colorful. He was tall and he wore Fred Perry and suspenders. He was bald and was always on the go. Trusting us to believe in it all and we did. I had my doubts but you were always there and I never had to look too far. We had it all. And me I tried to run and you all would have never found me. But I recognized the grey and the lack of touch. So I turned around and waited outside the door for you. Waiting patiently using the power of group prayer. You liked old churches and he like airplanes. I liked to run away and leave it all in a note or some oil paining. I believed in them both so much and they knew who I was. We were meant to be and we knew it. We knew all that was meant to be and all that their ever was. We used art as a projection and made crystal balls out of poems we wrote all night. Our hearts were so bright and we were so loved by them all. Strangers in a strange land prepared for the fall. But not before we'd have it all. All that they say will never exists. Love of the not so jealous kind. Joy of the not so normal kind. We were circus freaks in our isolation we showed them everything. And not one soul ever turned away. We made them smile and embrace the unknown. We made the mysteries clear. We battled it all and won. They were so brave but I had much fear. So we made songs and art and love to pass the day. Never reaching the things that were outside of us. Because we knew that the separation was a lie. And all that was real was all that was here right now. So we became a traveling circus and in it I was the sad beautiful clown. And together we took our bravery from town to town. 

This was a dream and I am Josalisa...Live from Planet RiOt. 

I Remember What You Have Forgotten

Why do I take any of it? The poison I mean. I'm surrounded by wicked, fiends with sunken sockets. I hate it here, yet I won't blow it all to pieces. What is the point? Knowing I could close the door behind me and all of this would go away. Like a strange dream that would end if only I could remember I was dreaming. Just open your eyes dear girl. All that I've learned about the world is true. Magick works in theory and practice. So why do I remain, anywhere reachable? What is goodness if evil does not exists? Knowing who you are is the key to fighting this whole society rap. Staying that way is beating the real disease. As they go at you day after day. Last of the dying self righteous punk rockers shunned by the liars and thieves. Waiting alone in Diagon Alley for all the flat-scans to find a personality. So many people are on this finding themselves rap. How long does it take a person to accept who they are? A fucking lifetime I guess. While I wait on my island. Made of poems and songs. 

I have such joy caged inside my sadness. Such anger for the bitter masses. Dropping like flys behind brick walls made of plastic. I can see what people hide it's gets easier every year. My memory of this place is oh so clear. While most think like a tape, erased day after day. The real tragedy is that I am still here. I have not got on a plane to a place where I can not find a familiar face. I'm starting to feel eaten alive again. The watchers have turned into Parana again. What are we  really up to anyway? I could just disappear. Become a forgotten memory. A distant thought not quite close enough to gleam. That is my real dream. The tragedy is that I am still here. I don't have the false joy. Work is bullshit, giving ourselves to another for profit. Every place I've ever worked I've attempted to burn down. I won't smile at you for a fee. Might as well drown in creativity. New friends can not fill an old mind. I remember my entire life. How can I preform as the sad clown? Old friends lie in order to align themselves with the new. Still teetered to the past by the ones who remember like me. My psychic mind is a personal Shakespearean Tragedy. My love is as beautiful as a dying man. We live next to the wall they think we are dying in. We see the gates stormed daily by love ones and close friends. A phantom home despised by phantom personalities. We smile and dream and create. Risking it all in front of another. Losing it all to survive as lovers. The real tragedy is nothing is ever lost just discovered. Another memory to last forever, or so they say. But what if forever were today? 

I'd have to show them that I remember it all. Not only that, I have more than half of it written down. Is this a poem or a confession? I've forgotten the difference somehow. One day I will reveal it all. But no one will understand. It will bring a tear to the eyes of the deaf and mad. The pain that I survive is real. Eternity is here to remind me. The darkness is an option. Death is always sitting right here beside me. One day it will take my hand and lead me to the land of the lonely. Where the hopeful believe this world will all start again. Where I will close my eyes and not remember any of this. For the first time in years. 

Goodbye sorrow

Goodbye memory

Goodbye tears

Goodbye hope

Goodbye fears

Goodbye all the nothing I ever was.

Goodbye every dream I believed was real.

Nothing left to see here but the evidence. That I did exist. With my eyes opened. Give me any quiz. I remember it all. Like the last witness to all the pain there ever was. Sober except for all for all the drugs. 

This is Josalisa, Live from Planet RiOT.