I’ll never forget my first acupuncture appointment. My acupuncturist asked me to stick out my tongue and then she asked me if I had very vivid dreams. “Yes, how can you tell that from my tongue?” was my natural question. Apparently, if you have a deep groove down the center of your tongue, you most likely experience vivid dreams. Well, they say that about pregnancy too; so naturally, I’m getting a double dose right now of the stuff that dreams are made of.
Here’s a brief summary of the past three nights’ escapades: A musical all about Abraham Lincoln, a cardboard-cutout fairytale puppet musical and a political rap. I actually awoke with a few verses of the political rap still running through my noggin, so I wrote it down and did my best to fill in the blanks for the rest of it. Following is the result:
Political Rapping While Napping
And oh, boo-hoo, boo-hoo
what are we gunna do
when our basic necessities of life
are about to get cut with some Senator’s knife
all in the name of living within one’s means
while someone’s wallet over there is busting at the seams
And the seams, the seams, the seams of our dreams
Ripped open by conniving schemes
Unfunded wars and overfunded whores
And who do they blame when the wolf’s at the door?
Tell me no more, we all know the score
Blame the teachers and blame the youth
While the ice tinkles in glasses of vermouth
And oh, boo-hoo, boo-hoo
What are we gunna do
When who’s behind it all but you-know-who
I hear them whisper behind their hands
The anti-christ is that black man
Everyone knows the true color of their hearts
Is as black as night is dark
And though their bible thumping makes quite a stir
They’re no more Christian than the pharacies were
it’s so transparent, why don’t we all see?
is it because of those damn hypnotizing t.v.’s?
kill those mechanical hypnotizers
turning us all into fearful self-despisers
the worse it gets, the better for all
it’s time for a complete overhaul
gotta tear down the old to make way for the new
rip up the pavement where forests once grew
Chaos and anarchy- just a bunch of bilarchy
The image of marauding gangs
No more real than vampire fangs
Trust your heart or trust your fear
One path full of love, and one of tears
We’ve got quite the mess to clean
It’s rather grotesque and even obscene
But lets follow Ghandi and clean out our own latrines
That’s what I call living within our own means
And how do we avoid a nuclear fate?
With so much at stake, shouldn’t we all be a little more irate?
If we don’t get our shit together,
We could all be no more forever
time to rely on each other instead of the man
pick up an instrument and join in the band
spread the love as fast as we can
speak with our hearts and act with our hands
