Shades of His Future

He said he would paint the soles of his feet,
Paint them some absurd colour, maybe purple, or black
So that every time he would walk down the street,
They’d see for themselves, he was leaving a mark.

He said he would scent his each and every word,
Apple cider, eucalyptus, frankincense, blueberry or sunflower,
So that every time that they were heard,
They’d hear for themselves, this was his hour.

He said he would spice the work of his hands,
Exotic spices, cayenne pepper, dhana jeera and a dash of cinnamon,
So that every time he executed his plans,
They’d taste for themselves, he was going to be the man.

He said he would choreograph his dreams,
Swift salsa, beautiful ballroom, complex chacha, cover all his bases
So that when he told the of his schemes,
They would know for themselves, he was going places.

He said he would engrave an effigy on his palms,
An image reflecting the person that he wanted, one day, to be,
So that whenever they looked in his eyes, shook his hand,
They’d feel for themselves, he wanted to be free.

He said he would paint the soles of his feet,
Paint them some absurd colour, maybe purple, or black
So that every time he would walk down the street,
They’d see for themselves, he was making a mark

Goodnight

Music will always be but a gateway to the soul,
It will always fill the void, make you feel whole,
Words will express emotions, but faces will tell the story,
Books will be confusing, a minute ago will be history,
Don’t worry your pretty little head

Everything changes and so everything is the same,
The ozone is burning up and we don’t know who to blame,
The earth is a cycle, as you will come to see,
Things have been, are and will continue to be,
Don’t worry your pretty little head

Poets will lament, musicians will fall in love,
Pastors will call for miracles from high up above,
Hummingbirds will do the backstroke, mockingbirds will sing,
The midday sun will beat and church bells will ring,
Don’t worry your pretty little head

Classes will confuse you, girls will do worse,
You’ll speak your word in prose, then do it in verse,
Cars will excite you money will entreat you,
Men shall allure you with bargains untrue,
Don’t worry your pretty little head

Your beliefs will be questioned your integrity doubted,
Your words discarded and your actions mistrusted,
Your heart will be crushed then tossed aside,
No one will care for what you feel inside,
Don’t worry your pretty little head

But that is a long time from now, so go to sleep,
I don’t want to hear a sound; I don’t want to hear a peep,
And when fear comes to your mind, doubts at you are hurled,
Smile, and remember, it is still a wonderful world,
So tonight as you go to bed,
Don’t worry your little head.