quiet (my first song)

This is the first time I've successfully converted my poetry into song lyrics. Tell me what you think!

history

bloom, trees
freedom waits
a whistle!
rise, you people
stomp stomp stomp
stomp stomp stomp

femininity

hair blusters
black hair, darkest hair
out, flash, goes the wind
sister, rush, quick goes the wind

eyelids, smooth
lines on your forehead

do I say goodbye?
I can't say
a word

stay on the kerb with me
time can run away
blink
those eyelids, smooth
let me warm your cheeks

blink
those eyelids, smooth, sister

what are you?

there is a soft breeze under the tree
and there is no one here
next to the rigid bark in the late summer shade
where the branches duck and judder
I used to have a battle here with myself
I used to have a battle with you
but now we're old bodies who know each other
and the bells are pealing in the abbey
late in the day
there is a soft breeze under the tree
I have your eyes for an hour
there is no one here

drinking you is as an
ocean that returns
mid-morning with all your
vast mounds of clay
and seasonal relations
You! All your shivers are
my real problems;
how shall I say that
I did it?
Will I say
'it is possible
to do such things'
or will I say
'these things have been
known to occur
with me as culprit?'
vicious!
swallowing you is a
boiling river that ingests
the bank and overtakes
a pleasant county
rebuilding you is a
task that takes
a million times a man
but I'll do it
with a shovel and some twine
by Jove,
I'll do it!
now morning comes
and all the snow is blue
the gates are shut- on us
the gates are shut
but they can break
and will we do it?
to subdue the fist of power
and declare our anarchy;
how sure a worthy task!
will we, new morning manatee,
fly fast along the lamps
to say 'we are new, we are new, we are new'?
or will we slump where the blackened tarn
builds a house for all its losers?
who knows?
drink me!
vicious!

O mighty one
enclose me in your arms
will you?

you are a redwood in autumn with an open door
where leaves twirling to touchdown on damp hands
slide in raindrops to the mourning soil-

or you are polluted snow, come end of winter,
cawing in the black ice
and new burning by the orange lamps

whatever you,

good or wrong

O temperate shield
-while the day ends-
will you?

putting on your shoes,
I think for a long time
how you've got me now

walking to the reservoir
I remember
how you said so little

we the people,
moss-eyed accidents
our
mouths
are cemented over

we risen mudfolk
of the pine- strewn swamps
scattered car parts everywhere

grow for me-

you've got me walking to the reservoir
where there are reeds and marsh and ducklings
and phantoms for me

can't you grow for me?

I have
all this pithy hope
pushing on your shoes.

rise up mud-folk
and be good to yourselves

or I will wed incomplete she
and whirlwinds come crashing down
until the end of days