Our House is on Fire

A musical response to this piece of art:
https://www.deviantart.com/hummbuzz/art/Our-House-is-on-Fire-827870854

Our house is on fire – And the baby’s on the roof –
No one would believe me – But baby, I got proof
The stars keep shinin’ – Don’t mean no thing to me
The sky has folded up and said he’s gonna leave,    

Our house is on fire – And the baby’s on the roof –
No one would believe me – But baby, I got proof
The four winds keep howlin’, tellin’ us the tale
Everyone’s deep pockets, everyone’s for sale

Our house is on fire – And the baby’s on the roof –
No one would believe me – But baby, I got proof
Takin’ what we need, and then a whole lot more
Mother earth’s done waitin’, She’ll be settlin’ that score

THE SONG:

©2020 All Copyrights Reserved By The Respective Artists

Clueless

Standing on the bridge
Leaning over the rail
Like an impetuous child
I found the moon

He was resting
At the bottom of the lake

“Moon! Come out of there!”
“Leave me alone. I’m resting.”
“But Moon, it’s cold and dark down there!
 Let me help you out!”

Diving into the cold
Tree whispered
“Did he not say,
 Leave me alone?”

Her branches
Catapulted me
Back
Onto the bridge

I sat dripping
Cold
Poking my head through the railing
I called to moon

“Ok, I get it now
 I’ll leave you alone.
 Moon…..MOON!”
“I hear you!
 Now go away!”

That moon.
So grumpy.

multiple exposures

Bleeding

There was something eluding the finality of the day.
An uneasiness tugging at the back of the brain
It kept me searching for answers
In places where answers had already fled.

Maybe there aren’t any answers
I could stop the questions
And free myself

A hawk flew by
His mate crying out
Completing rituals of eternity 

I pointed my camera
To the distant ridge
And it made a story
Of the everyday

Night’s love affair with day
When for a brief moment
They could bleed together
As one

Trail's End

Black phoebe alights
Right in front of me
Her usual speed
Slowed down to infinity

Her wings
Completely Spread
A glint of seriousness
In her eyes

She is speaking
Something important
Yet,
I cannot hear

As I rise the final steps
And turn to the east
I see of what she speaks
The path ending
Into a place called destiny

Where trees and clouds
Speak knowledge
From eons past
And harmony
Has never lost her power

Afterlight

When the sun goes down
There is an afterlight
Within the context of the artist
It is something to be pursued

We chase
After light

Not be confused
With afterlight
A relatively young word
At 215 years

Unused for some time
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In autocorrect
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oils on canvas 16″x20″ “Twilight”