Doubts rain down...

Another day dawns.

Doubts rain down.

Buckle it.

Y'er pissing in the wind matey.

Doubts rain down.

I feel myself slipping.

I feel myself weakening.

Doubts rain down.

I hear the words of others.

Please keep on.

Hold that line.

Hold that line.

Arts of the Possible.

"We may feel bitterly how little our poems can do in the face of seemingly out-of-control technological power and seemingly limitless corporate greed, yet it has always been true that poetry can break isolation, show us to ourselves when we are outlawed or made invisible, remind us of beauty where no beauty seems possible, remind us of kinship where all is represented as separation."

Adrienne Rich.

Caged Bird.

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind

and floats downstream till the 

current ends

and dips his wing in the 

orange suns rays and dares to 

claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his

narrow cage

can seldom see through his 

bars of rage

his wings are clipped and his 

feet are tied so he opens his 

throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a

fearful trill

of things unknown but longed 

for still

and his tune is heard on the

distant hill

for the caged bird sings of

freedom.

The free bird thinks of another

breeze

and the trade winds soft

through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a 

dawn-bright lawn and he

names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the 

grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a 

nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his

feet are tied so he opens his 

throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a

fearful trill

of things unknown but longed

for still

and his tune is heard on the 

distant hill

for the caged bird sings of 

freedom.

Maya Angelou.