Come Alive

Verse 1:

A song floats.  A spell is lifted

A dark eye sees the light

A heart that ached can feel compassion

And share the warm delight

Pre-chorus:

Now I can feel the snows of winter

And I can hear the rain

I can feel the snows of Winter and I can hear the rain

Chorus:

Come alive

(Come alive, come alive come alive) 

And live forever

(Come alive you can feel if you try)

Come alive

(Come alive, come alive, come alive)

And live for now

Come alive

(Come alive, come alive, come alive)

 Let’s share love together

(Come alive you can feel if you try)

Come alive.

(Come alive, come alive, come alive) 

I’ll show you how

(With your heart and sing)

Verse 2:

You found me in my darkest hour

My senses numbed by need

Your song was passion filled with laughter

And dances warm and sweet

Pre-chorus

Chorus:

Verse 3:

A loved heart is filled with rapture

But love comes only once

And when love dies, it leaves disaster

And that’s what you have done

Pre-chorus

Chorus

fade

copyright Frankie Valinda Ghee

Real

Verse 1

On the darkest of all roads they wither

Real as the road that winds

Real on the highway wet and old things slither

Real is a state of mind

Tall, they sway and twitch and force the mind

How, with a whisper and a fear that blinds

Real holds a hungry mouth to fill

Chorus

Twilight brings out the darker side of the human mind

Real as the rustling and the sway

Starlight brings out an angry tide on the mountain side

Real as the molding and decay

As we huddle by the fire

See the shadows grip and tear the air

Watching as the murky water turns from black to fading gray.

Dear Spence,

It’s been a while since you first proved to me that you were not one of us. 

Don’t argue.  You are not one of us.  You are so far from being one of us that it’s not even funny. 

Don’t try to play this down, and don’t try to blame this on me. 

You wish you had never told me?  Well so do I.  I mean, my god, you control the weather! 

Did you really think that once you convinced me you were telling the truth about this that I would be able to look at you the same way?

Yeah sure, you are the same person you were before you told me, but I am not the same person I was.  Now, I am one big ball of bewilderment and fear. 

Of course I’m afraid. 

Not of you, not exactly.  It occurs to me that you could chose to strike me dead with a well-placed bolt of lightning or flood my neighborhood and knock me unconscious with giant hail, but I don’t believe that’s your nature.  You are kind and trusting.  You expect the best of people, and that’s what scares me.  The fact that you shared your secret with me after only knowing me for three months tells me that you are too trusting, and it’s not safe to be around you.  Some day you’re going to tell someone who doesn’t love you, and that person will want to own you.

Once your secret goes viral, everyone close to you will be shark food for journalists seeking exclusives, and the power hungry seeking leverage.  All of us will become commodities, and we will be consumed and discarded. You, on the other hand, will be destroyed, and I can’t have that on my head.

The really crappy part of this whole thing is that I really do love you. 

I’m going to miss you, but please…lose my number.

Don’t get me wrong.  I would love to have a gig where I got paid for singing what I am singing and playing my guitar, so hire me if you have a venue.  I’m just saying that freedom is fun.

I have been in bands and performed for both willing and unwilling audiences.  There have been times when I knew we would better serve the universe by off turning off the mics and going home, but the contract said we had to stay until 1 even if the only person listening to the band was that one regular who was going to be there every night no matter what horrible act was on the stage, or the hecklers who wanted to hear all hip-hop or all country.

I have played for appreciative audiences who wanted to here more, but I had to leave because the contract said I had to leave.

I love just sitting down with my guitar someplace knowing that if someone doesn’t want to listen, they can walk on or if I hate being there, I can simply pack up and go without explanation.  In reality, I have found that people here are extremely kind and seem to genuinely enjoy having a little live music in their day.

The other great thing about street music is that I can finish a song and have a conversation without having to stop the pay-clock.

The music I am providing is free.  You can listen if you want to, and you can hang out for a while.  Tips are appreciated but definitely not required.  I love the thumbs up and the smiling nod.  Both are as good as gold to me.

Okay, so if you see me somewhere with my guitar singing away, please stop by and let me know you’ve seen my site.  Hang out if you have time.

If you have a place you would like to have me play, let me know.

Thanks for listening

FVG

The Spirit of the Tree

There is a tree in the front yard of the house where I live.  It was small when I first moved in.  It looked like a branch planted in the earth by a child, but it grew quickly.  Within three years, the trunk had grown thick and tall, and it’s branches pressed onto the sky threatening to break the skin of the atmosphere and pop the world like a balloon.  It became a favorite of birds and squirrels and seemed to speak in the language of nature.  It told me to have faith, to be patient.  Spring was always on the way.

Like the tree, I grew during those early years.  I found my dream job, and my dream date.  I made commitments.  I joined a gym and got fit.  I started meditating and got Zen.  

The tree became “My Tree”  with shiny, large green leaves in the spring and summer, and oh my god, the colors in the fall! 

It was the same for me.  I blossomed.  I was creative.  We were brilliant.  We were enlightened.   I was more alive than I had ever been.  Even in the winter months, the tree and I played our roles with quiet dignity.  We were reflective and wise.  We were awake.  People paused to admire our contribution to the universe.  I was an inspiration, a model of inner peace.

I sat on the porch and sang songs of my own creation to the tree, about the tree…for the tree.  We were happy.

Then, some springs ago, I noticed a change.  The buds only made it about three quarters of the way up the tree. The top fourth of my soul’s sister was dead, and I died a little in sympathy.

Now, the tree and I are alone.  The birds didn’t come this year, and the squirrels no longer clamor for our company.  Our branches reach up to puncture the sky like the fingers of an angry skeleton.  I sit on the porch singing lamentations of death and waling in desperate fear of winter.  I feel brittle, and nothing warms me.

My Peace

My peace is

The blue seen between the leaves of a tall tree

When looking up from the ground

It is a kind glance 

An unrolled eye

My peace is

The silence between sobs

The end of an exhale

Just before the next breath in

It is the beauty in one yellow rose

In the garden of the house across the street

My peace is

A pause between seconds

Between tic and tock

And the charged space between me

And everything else

The Sun

The Sun steps out

From behind the ornate, gray and white clouds

With fanfare and trumpet song

The bright, golden rays hit me

Like the warm water spray

Of my five am shower

I close my eyes

And gratefully soak it in

Clean, calming sunshine

I take a deep, satisfied breath

But on the exhale

My warped, disloyal brain

Fixes on my lack of sunscreen

And the ominous possibilities