Skip to main content

Same Note Different Instrument

Jesus heart
Buddha mind
Gypsy Soul

Sometimes I give and take credit
Where it's not yet due
I never meant to

Cause you any sorrow
Even if I had to
Beg, steal, or borrow

I only wanted to
Have communion
with your pilgrim soul

Thinking it's music
Might help calm
The savage beast in me

There was never any expectation
That you would feel required
To live in a house my words built

I just wanted to be
A little less ignorant
And a little more innocent

I wanted you to know
That you are welcome
Wherever you may roam

Not like a guest
Visiting for a courtiers purposes
I wanted you to feel at home

Like a prodigy
I hoped you'd see
A true King awakens his Queen

With a third eye kiss
And sometimes it's
On his brow with her lips


Popular posts from this blog

The 5 People Who Make Life Heaven

They listen when you need to talk Talk when you need to listen They know your darkness Let you know theirs Without judgement and expectation You can talk to them about how you see things They don't get angry or anxious when you disagree Trust you enough to say what they really think Read tweets and novels Never make you beg or grovel Won't allow it Remind you that you're better than that Lay some of their burden on you Let you behind their wall Feel welcome behind yours You feel each other with heart and mind Even if you don't explain yourself  They get you You get them These are the ones that make life worth living Make you love to be alive Reflect you to you Teach and learn Some days the lead singer Some days the band These are the ones You can count on one hand (c) Ron Kennedy 

Poetry Tree

I saw no birds grieve No fallen leaves No branches on the ground None made a sound It wasn’t rotten It didn’t die in a storm Capitalism came In its progress form To take one of my last  Best refuges from me I may be the only one who noticed The death of my poetry tree.


Photo by  Gustavo Spindula  on  Unsplash Sometimes I check my neck to see if it’s still Half red, half dirty and half um Andrew, I’m still gonna need some Help with that Math We live in an era where Before you even speak an opinion You might be attacked For what you have Or don’t How you look What you might say How you act Who you love Where you live That you give a damn about facts That you empathize with those cast As villains in the common narrative Or even that you don’t naturally fall in line Being of your own mind Self-educated Self meditated Spiritually in moments sublime I lay on my back & count the stars listening to For Now Thinking on philosophies that rhyme Alone & feeling fine.