Amurá

Sep 6, 20234 min

"Of Prose and Passing Thoughts" & "Song Lyrics of Amura"

This summer, I was able to complete and publish two books. “Of Prose and Passing Thoughts” in July and “Song Lyrics of Amurá” in August.

“Of Prose and Passing Thoughts” is a collection of selected poems and prose from my young adult age to my years as an elder. It also holds many of the “Passing Thoughts” I used to post on my Facebook page. What surprised me is that over the years, one has believed that while writing in a notebook it’s only bits and pieces. They don’t see the volume of work as a whole. I started going through some of the diaries I had saved over the years.

It became clear to me that I’ve been writing all my life. Between my music, performing, and art (painting and sculpting), I’ve amassed a decent number of works. Enough to realize that I’ve only touched the tip of the iceberg. I won’t even count the books I might have discarded in moments of deep depression. You know how it is with artists. Sometimes, it’s better to discard your feelings than reveal them.

In “Of Prose and Passing Thoughts,” here’s a taste of two different periods:

Sink a Little Deeper, from my early college days in the 60s (page 8).

Sink a Little Deeper
 

Sink down
 
into my black mud,
 
dampen your chin
 
upon my water’s edge.
 
Our shadows dissolve
 
making love
 
on hard concrete,
 
while we stand
 
blank,
 
expressionless,
 
emotionless,
 
with that fuckin’
 
paper-mâché wall
 
between us.
 
Convinced
 
that nothing could occur,
 
you turned
 
your beautiful
 
black face
 
from me
 
to the sun
 
rising on the crest
 
of my forehead.
 
Slight turn,

but it made me
 
the silhouette
 
i am today,
 
sink a little deeper
 
when you cross
 
my path.

I’m tired
 
of stupid
 
half-ass
 
footprints
 
in my mud.
 
Sink a little deeper
 
and leave
 
your breasts marks
 
deep, deep
 
within my
 
soft and shallow
 
by-way,
 
fingerprints,
 
branded brain marks
 
cheek impressions,
 
blood stains,
 
a trace of your time.
 
Sink a little deeper,
 
pass the white barrier,
 
that cheap-ass wall.
 
All we need is a strong.
 
husky breeze.
 
Move,
 
I’ll move,
 
I’ll burn down
 
the paper wall
 
and charge you.
 
Scream
 
if you want, you’ll only
 
sink a little deeper.

Whispers, some 30+ years later (page 40).

Whispers 7/18/2002

Consider the path you walk and how you walk it.

As liken to the life you live and how you live it.

Be not a stranger to oneself, know who is on the throne.

Who is the ruler and who is the servant.

For each thought has its own path.

Each requiring its own sustenance.

So be mindful of the thoughts you nurture.

Surrender not your throne to ideas or passions

Harmful to another being.

You are infinite because you are part of the Infinite.

You are eternal for the Eternal is manifested in you.

You extend mercy because you are forgiven.

You forgive because you are a child of the Merciful.

It is all before you - the wisdom of the ages.

Gather unto you all that fortifies the spirit,

Uplifts the soul,

Strengthens the body,

Opens the heart,

Challenges the intellect,

Stirs the imagination,

And shatters the rigidity of complacency.

Converse in prayer,

Understand through clarity of meditation.

Keep life interesting, keep it a wonder,

Be forever moved by life’s beauty,

Its splendor and its challenges.

Leave some personal wisdom behind.

Let others know you’ve walked the path of life,

Leaving treasures for your offspring and others.

I feel the years offered me advice.

In “Songs Lyrics of Amurá,” songs written over a period of 49 years, there was another type of growth, not only in the style of music but in theme. From simple love songs to something more outspoken. An example is “Lonely,” mid-sixties (page 4)


 
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CFZC2JYC?fbclid=IwAR217_ySe3jUBKD1zzL3v5vlImiO6r1cB92VKkHvr-iyk6sIGSn5pBGg8LE

Lonely

I never thought that I could be so lonely, lonely.

I never thought a time would come
 
When loving you was to love someone

Whose heart is bare,

There’s no one there, when I call.

I never thought my dreams could be so empty, empty.

I never thought our love could die,
 
You turned and said,
 
“My darling, I must go
 
Before you plead for more of my love.”

Bridge:

Alone to myself
 
Thoughts of you burning,
 
Thoughts of you turning
 
My world upside down.

There’s no one around
 
To comfort me.

I never thought that I could be so lonely, lonely.

I never thought a time would come
 
When loving you was to love someone

Whose heart is bare,

There’s no one there, when I call,

When I call.

Then, in the nineties, after the constant rise in police brutality across the nation, came “Genocide(page 170).”

Genocide


 
Brother, have you lost your mind,
 
Dreaming of a promised land so very few will find?
 
Hanging, swaying in the trees.
 
Bodies that look a lot like me.
 
Daddy says, “Son, close your eyes so you won’t see
 
The genocide.”

Mama, deep within your prayer.

Speakin’ to your only son, they took when you weren’t there.

Prisons with death in every cage.
 
Choke holds, an answer to their rage.

Daddy says, “Shit! We’re deep within the age
 
Of genocide.”

It matters not the time or season,
 
Hatred doesn’t need a reason
 
To fill the world with pain.

Slaughter comes with cold indifference,
 
Marching on the path of least resistance.
 
Are we all to blame?


 
Children, children of the sun,
 
Trading in your destiny for a six pack or a gun.
 
Ah, bullets, the stories they could tell.
 
Drive-bys, how many can you kill?
 
Daddy says, “Son, you must be above the swell
 
Of genocide.

“Someone give me water, someone give me air!”
 
Cries the lofty preacher, “Heavenly Father are you there?
 
Give us shelter from the storm.
 
Lead us to where we can do no wrong.”

Daddy says, “Son, don’t let this be the norm.
 
This genocide.”


 
Is it the fault of being human,
 
That some of us will seek to cause confusion
 
Through the taste of blood?

While genocide controls its minions,
 
Cutting short the life of countless millions. . . .
 
Where the hell is Love?


 
People, open up your minds.
 
Listen to the Inner Voice, we need so much to find.
 
Spirits are calling from the grave,
 
“Mankind, when will you come of age?”
 
Daddy says, “What is there left to save
 
From genocide?
 

 

Can we stop the genocide?

Help me stop the genocide.

I guess change is natural and constant. I hope you get a chance to read these books. Our YouTube channel under Amurá Unlimited has music videos (Genocide and others from my later years as a songwriter).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8j-xayD_PHwhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8j-xayD_PHwhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8j-xayD_PHw

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