Tag: poets

Leonardo’s Garden

I can hear you honey coming my way, I
remember how you used to speak my name
I saw you walking long the river to my garden
Your hair shone like the milky way
Lamplight glowed down in St. Germain
Day is gone and we’re only getting started

I hear the music like I always have
won’t force you none, though I’m moving fast
what’s done is done
what’s past is past

You are the angel
breathing in my dream, you can
Call me goblin
Call me the creep
You know who I am
You know I never sleep
How much longer shall we dance this dance, we’ve been
waltzing all along the Cumberland
you’ve called my name
and baby I’m your man

I saw you rise as the desert sun
I was born, we were one
heard ‘em say we were old
and today we are young

I hear you walking through my secret garden
the music through you and calling my name
the world’s changed
and I don’t feel the same
But I can sing and you know I can dance
I’m making way through this cold and damp
day’s breaking, as I take your hand

Let me lie back in sweet surrender
Let me honor, cherish and defend her
I lost my track again but I know I can remember
Is this life lady, and life only?
Well your beauty took me
honey, it stoned me
I think I’ve been here baby
Yea I know how you told me

Open Up (Happy Anniversary)

Throw open your desk
toss it upside down and
listen to Schumann, break
down the walls of every room, sell everything you own and over the new flames from within
begin to create
a brand new art form

Then when the sounds of the violin cease
open the window
and listen
to the distant
sounds of the city
in the cool
morning
breeze

Lyrics: Today We Are Young

Lyrics By Ren Michael

Come you princes and gamblers
And I’ll tell you a tale
About an unborn world
From the cold winds of hell
I think you will find
That my story’s been told, indeed it’s centuries old
And though I am young,
You may know me quite well.

They may call me king bishop,
They may say I’m unkind
That I’m a blue-tuned sailor,
Got a simple mind
Tell me, when you look in the mirror
Or through your window view
Do you see a stranger’s eyes
Staring straight at you?

All you big-wigs and con-men
Who stole from my town
How’s the blood in your coffee,
Soaked in your nightgowns?
And how does it feel
To live behind a wall?
They may call you rich men,
But you don’t know wealth at all.

To the big who are small,
Self-proclaimed greats of all time
Who sweat over accolades,
Wasting their rhymes
Man, they couldn’t pay me
To put on your shoes
Held down by the weight
Of having something to prove.

To those who march through the wild,
Along the borderline;
To the persecuted and exiled,
I’m yours and you are mine
And to every shade of oppressor,
Your day will come soon
But in the end, just remember,
You are me and I am you.

You may quote from the wise,
Or your scriptures of old
But when you spill the blood of my brother,
Call the prophets your own,
In the eyes of the Lord,
You cast every stone
To twist the good word
In your own quest for the throne.

And so to all those
Who’ve taught me to love
Who in the same second,
Flaunt their handguns
Your sons and your daughters
Look to you every year
As you preach of peace
In the cold fortress of your fears

Come you princes and gamblers
And I’ll tell you a tale
About a battle-scarred world
That’s seen some serious hell
I think you will find
That my story’s been told, indeed it’s centuries old
And though I am young,
You ought to know me well.

Yea, along life’s ladder,
You may recognize every rung
And though you may feel real old;
Know today, we are young.

I write on the backs of napkins

I write on the backs of napkins
I write on scraps of tissue paper
for you ought to not sweat
the fancy jet
the time yet, no
or the old lessons of propriety
don’t stack that shelf
full of fancy volumes, neither
no, don’t overload the head with journals
with their pages crisp and clean
with the ribbons in between
if you’ve got paper
and you got a pen
then write it down
and let it all
flow
and ease the weight
from within your head
you’ll thank me in the end

Cordially Yours,
Your friend,
Ren

 

Originally published // renmichael.com

Zia Meditation #2

on this day then
shall I make the declaration
to let fear fall before the sun
to set aside old clothes
and remember who I really am?
who and what I am to become?

to reclaim
the throne of my own heart
& the kingdom of my mind

to remember
the sun, setting before sweet Cambria
upon the majestic cliffs of Zion
and rising again over New Mexico
the Zia in electric blue

can we do it?
let’s do it then.

Let’s act.
and listen
open our hearts and minds
and then make the decision

let’s paint in brights shades
of blue, yellow and red
in broad brushstrokes, yea
on a pearl white canvas
without thinking twice
breathe big
smile
and play jazz music
Mozart
and the blues

you’ve got the heart of a lion

December 21, 2020

Mona Lisa Wheels

at my table
it’s a beautiful view
for in the cathedral of my mind, and
out across the highway
I’m seeing
visions
of antiquity
the streets of Paris
the slopes of the Sierra
the state roads of the South
along the banks of the Mississippi
river, and the ol’ Rio
Diabolo

I’ve got a set of wheels
a complex machine
sings from within me
my horse and steed
we take this road together
unmatched, obscene
but sharp and clean
over lands unseen
our spirit redeemed

It’s you and me,
let’s begin again now
and tell the old stories
oh how I love you, my friend
my fortune
my glory

dig it
we’re too big for dreaming

I think I’ll be living in Santa Fe pretty soon

I think I’ll be living in Santa Fe soon
picture me walking
‘long a New Mexico road
that Pueblo adobe
& streetlights of candlit
brown paper bags
on a winters night
me and the moon
and You
standing before St. Francis
cathedral
yea I can see it
I can see that being
my little midnight ritual
at the end
of every Saturday evening

let’s do it.

for right now
I’m right where I need to be

The Root

Political discourse like broken leaves Stands in the shadows of laughing trees The root of evil Disguised as greed Only as old as Adam and Eve Cannot die but it must be beat, and What comes to pass, what’ll come to be Sings from deep within you and me. Like a lion you are A golden heart As old as time Though unborn, just thunder in the dark Younger, less experienced His untested mark The test to wait Through the blood The great flood Many years in the deepest recesses of Noah’s old ark No angels for you, no Just those in your soul We’ll see what you do, unprotected Still molested Untested virtue You’ll need help through the rain Deep within the grain, your skin screams in pain They may give you the whip, they may call you insane And in the dark of the night, few will call you brave Yet in the dark, like a lark Goes right to your soul In the quiet night, yea In the murdering cold A voice, quiet choice Calls out, says you’re not alone To love your brother, all you got is each other It’s all you each will ever know. Soon the voice dies Some crucified, their eyes Said to watch from the sky You feel a need to keep the dream, carry on Though you question why Whether you do it, or not Remains up to you All you want’s your own life Nice wife, and your own bit of fruit The choice seems clear, then And it seems quick Keep the people out, yea It’s them that are sick It’s them that rape, pillage And crack the whip, indeed A wise man knows when to quit No, I won’t cast stones I’ll just build me a wall Better to be dressed to kill Than prone to crawl And yet every time night falls Through your window view You won’t play the fool You want what’s owed to you You know you’ll have it all, if you just forget The voice in the night every time the sun sets But rich or poor Still you feel unborn You got love But who’s it for? When you realize a sobering truth That love itself is no great virtue To the courage that came first Living in a dream, still deep inside of you You wake in a cold sweat, it’s hard to forget All the gold you own, and the possessions you’ve kept But you leave it all behind and step out in the night Soon the sun’ll come a-rising and you’ll enter the fight And each and everyone will ask you “Whose side are you on?!” They’ll worship and abuse you, and still you’ll carry on Through the rain, there’s a thunder And that rain’ll come hard Yet still, you’ll stand together With your brothers in arms.

a capella #1

I am not exactly a conventional musician, you know…
I couldn’t tell you anything about theory.
I can’t even read music. No,
I’m just like this wild man of the woods
born of the swamp, singing
if not screaming to the heavens
and sometimes to my people
and I’m gonna use whatever
I have on me to be able to do it.  

Though all I really need is my voice.