I sing songs like mockingbirds,
and like mockingbirds the songs are not original.
I mock what the media crams down my throat,
Cram even though I can control the remote.
The repetition of boom boom boom makes the occasional bleep blend in.
Addicted to the hum of the piper’s flute, almost
As irresistible as raising your hands when the song says,
“everybody’s hands go up………
Still I am singing while confused at how easy it is to sing the blues, but
Must muster strength to sing what is good.
With nearly every phrase I hear songs that complete my thoughts,
And become the sanity that I need to push past a performance into
Worshipful communion.



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