A touch of an echo

Voices fill the empty spaces
Caught up in the social graces
Simply words that lift the soul
Making whole.
New sentences start anew
swirling in a void of then
when normalcy seemed commonplace
no disgrace.
Maybe he’s crazy, maybe I am too
but no matter to the wicked mad hatter
’cause were all the same
in the grey matter of a creative brain.
Now days like these seem just the same
letters backwards and forwards
reading what lies in between
perhaps just that, another strange dream
caught up in the knowing
it’s just you, and it’s just me
in the space of moments
passing without notice,
and the band keeps playing
though no one’s listening
’cause it just ain’t the same
when I was young there was no thought
just what was
what is
and that was that or so it seemed.
I never payed no mind
to the drama in their heads
just a touch of the sickness was all that was ever said,
and we woke up early
ate our cornflakes like good folks,
money don’t grow on trees and the powdered milk,
it just never seemed to go bad.
Now we hang our heads in disbelief
at the modern tales of common truth
goin’ crazy over the little things
and I listen to my endless tunes
reminiscing with the band from the little river
locked in my own world apart
gonna start I think,
asking myself of the deeper things
but never knowing where to start.
How did we get here,
relying on the voices for absolution,
sleep tight child,
it’s all gonna be alright
and I searched for an image of confusion
and the symbol showed his face once again,
perhaps messages from above,
but I’m just a quiet dove,
ain’t cryin’
just questioning like my psyche does,
still crazy after all of these years
and that’s okay
I find my peace there
like a forgotten corner bar
where I still know my name
and am welcomed,
pull up a chair
can I get you some iced tea
and we’ll talk just like yesterday
before you flew away.

Still living with the reverberating echoes. Was searching the Google archives, my mind on a track just looking for the right image, and of course, once again my purple soul crops up, yes I suppose it fits the confusion of this day and age….just letting words flow where they may…gotta be me…letting the freak flag fly once more…just gotta. peace and keep the groove going this fine weekend, be alive, be merry and be whole. K