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Location: Los Angeles, California, United States

I write songs, I sing them... I play the piano and a little bit of the guitar.. I've released 5 albums of music, I love the scent of freshly fallen rain and the scent of lavender on bedsheets. I would drink tea all day long if the caffeine didn't keep me up at night. I hate driving in L.A traffic. I would love to one day catch the squirrel that steals the plums from my tree and make him a pet. I don't watch TV anymore. My 3 year old daughter is more entertaining than any TV show could ever be :)

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Friday, December 21, 2007

November 10th 2007 - reflections...while sitting at Starbucks in Santa Monica,CA

Saturday, 10th November 2007, 9.15 p.m

A table opened up here at the Starbucks on 3rd Street,
in Santa Monica, so I figured I'd sit down and write.
Outside, people are streaming past, the tide of life washing by.
The homeless, with their heavy clothing and trollies of blankets
and plastic bags, pass by, mostly unnoticed
as girlfriends and boyfriends stroll by under the newly-strung
Christmas season lights.

The usual guitar duo playing a form of flamenco guitar is here
too as usual, blasting their melodic rhythms into the chilly
night air. I walk by, trying to blend seamlessly into the crowds,
like a shadow... and as I pass the streets, shoes, winter clothing,
all staring out of shop windows, cajoling people to part with their
cash, to either get new clothes, or put a tip into the plastic
bucket of a street performer, or the outstretched grimy palm
of a homeless man.

The homeless sit on the grilled metal benches, covered in blankets,
talking to their guardian angel who shivers along right with them.
The black man cajoling people to dance along to his boom-box music
is out here tonight as well as are the breakdancers,
and the homeless white man in a puffy-purple windbreaker holding up
a cardboard sign, chastising people in a fit of religious fervour.
As I sit here, I wonder about the story of the lady sitting at the table
next to me, dressed in a marshmallow black windbreaker, dragging a
suitcase, a perpetual traveller on life's journey.

We all carry suitcases...just that ours are not as visible.
Some of us hide our luggage and baggage in our hearts, under
our baseball caps, behind our smiles, or hidden behind sunglasses.
Aren't we all homeless in a sense? We're all here in exile till we
see His sweet face.


Anonymous Clarissa said...

I really like ur writing, not just your songs but how through the beauty of the words u choose to describe..makes me see a beautifully constructed scene...suitcases in this blog entry for instance...=)


Saturday, January 26, 2008 3:19:00 PM  

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