This is for my own sanity. I must put it in order in the digital universe or on a private piece of paper kept secretly under my bed. Your voice is all that keeps me, yours and my own. I give private ceremony to my dreams. I sing in little rooms to people who believe in ghosts but have never seen them. I pray the song amazing grace to folks who believe in angels but have never met me. They smile and I shed a tear for us all. So far away from the gates we may not see it coming down. There is more dedication in rock and roll but I will still belt it out to the congregation for the hope of it all. All we have now is the songs and magic. Black magic in large doses filling up our small bodies. Like swamp people surviving a hurricane by never leaving home. So many people want the world to end. But it won't you just die and we live on. Not every one has a cosmic origin, some of you are the meek here to inherit the Earth. I've touched your grave stones on a mere accident looking for ancestral dust under dirt. You could have had it all but you wanted something you could never have and the things you never dream of. You only get what you dream even if you show up. That is funny too. Eli tells you everything but few ever listen and most have forgotten this is not a lifetime but a spiritual mission.
All the poets smile at me and ask me to dance. I always say yes because they really do know best what is going on around here. We pay actors to mesmerize but magician do it for free. I lock myself secretly into small private libraries because as usual the public has become too mainstream. I ask the old and dying important things. They always remember the answers and point me in the right direction. I sit in private rooms with rich artists hashing over the things they feel they could not touch. They point me in the right direction to remind the bored of true love. It comes from great suffering and self respect. I now know all is well and nothing can ever be lost. Why do I miss the nothing so much? I sing to the sweet and the endearing hopeful dreamers while my peers attempt to be famous, or rich without checking their personal inventory. We give away what we want so much on the way. I see this so clear, so I sit still and cry the smallest tear to his voice. We all know it but can not hear the trumpets that also sound. A beautiful man saves us all as we drown together.
We could wait until the end but that is just the beginning. We can enact revenge but one never understands why one is truly screaming. So I come to you with my faith in my hands. I remember every shaman I ever kissed or embraced. Every member of my star family I ever met face to face. They gave me my faith and it can not be tarnish though it is black as a cosmic map. I've gone from beautiful girl to raving maniac and I will say it is a wonderful world. I feel sorry for the ones who will never let go. The ones will attempt to hold it all by the seams and never hear the sound of...the great all there is. Who consume but never create. Have you ever been stopped in a street so a crowd can form to ask you what you dream and how it inspires them so? What does it even mean that I have? I've come to remind those lost we are now found and the stars do glow for us. A breath is all it takes to bless the nations of gentle souls. Keep going. Allow the heart to expand. Smile through the tears and meet the family half way up the road. They will appear as angles of color and fire. I feel them all. Running and singing all the familiar songs. We have it all right here inside of us. I forgive you all the ones who I think are weak or cruel or maybe just liars. It's not my cruelty. It's not my weakness. They are not my lies. I am here for the stars and the bright lights. I am here as he lives. So it will never happen again.
This could be my last breath. I have said it all. I share my soul with the ones who wake me at night. I've cried in the arms of the great men of my time and I have said it all. I repeat myself as a form of art. I have listened to the desperate pretend they see magic in nothing. I have heard the ones who feel weak attempt revenge on themselves. I am done. I am a golden nun. I believe in it all and have seen it come true. I have been tied down to beds for pain and pleasure. I have driven my masters mad. I am alive and I have played dead. This is my personal apocalypse. I have seen the bravest ones create cults and try hard not to kill them. I have seen the beautiful destroy it all and play the villain. I have created so much art the ink stains are like my lost children. My dream is now. I have wept over Van Gogh and it is not enough. I have stared so hard at Monet and Rothko you'd think my heart could never let go. I have run and turned the cards at midnight naked in the emptiness. This is my dream come true. I am the thing which I have become in secret. I am home though I wish for greater...what...hearts and minds to speak to. My fingers hurt from creating. My heart is a full cup. The old masters have taught me the old ways. The youth has shown me how to modernize and I have become a winged creature. Blow harder my dears. Blow harder.
I am Josalisa and this is a RiOt
Ceux qui marchent entre nous viennent en rêves les plus profonds.
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