The Down Deep

I’m bringing the deep from the deep
like my dreams in my sleep,
like a tea leaf that steeps.
Here I deposit heaps
of secret keep-sakes;
that bring me to my knees
here in my tribes’ teepee
where I laugh and weep.

Like a jeep up steep hills
I reposit strong wills.
Through bounds, leaps, and wrong thrills
the down deep stays still.

No ground leaks in my well.
If a boat sinks we got gills.
Like a witch thinks a love spell,
the down deep gonna stay still.

Like profound sleep to stay well,
or a cold drink in hot hell,
down here its all swell.
Dont fear that you done fell,
’cause down here where I dwell
the stories that I tell
gonna help make you think well.

Fill cracks in liberty bells.
A light house to guide sails.
For wayfarers that ride rails,
a churchmouse that pays bails.
No whitehouse, and no jails.
On weekends, no emails.

A full moon for wolf wails,
a pasture with hay bails,
and creeks full of cat tails.
A monsoon for dry spells,
no masters or slave sales.
The meaks now alpha males,
who get all the best smells,
and first pick at endtrails
from and old world that now pails
compared to where we dwell
the down deep that stays still.

I wrote this piece several years ago in a hasty moment, and it became one of my favorites. The name of this blog is inspired by these verses.

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