"TELL ME IT'S SO"
"ALONG THE WAY"
I find myself feeling guilty at 75, because I am not working full time in a regular gig as society has crammed work ‘til you die down our throats. The economy is designed for working stiffs and the powers that have created we work ‘til we die then just throw us away. So tired of Elons, Jeffs, etc. etc. I am fed up. Yes, it is my concern because if I do not say anything with my background and education, then my blood pressure goes 'way high. Unfortunately, the ultra-ultra rich do not care and if democracy does not win, we are going away on the trains, and it will not be the subway. Truth. No conspiracy theories. My body is not a political pawn. We must speak up. My friend refuses to talk about anything about our bodies and regular mundane everyday living because the orange buffoon makes tying one’s shoelaces a big crime. So, knock these Nazis out. Yes, they are Nazis. I do not bury my head in sand.
I stand here looking down to the city below.
Tell me it’s so
Far below.
This mountain I find myself standing on
For a long song,
Filled with all the crevices and trees,
That sway this way,
And that way,
As we stand together looking down to the city below.
Tell me it’s so.
Far below
I watch the cars driving across the highway,
As I travel in my dreams of peace and love.
Along the way
You say,
This is love or peace or joy
To employ
Reactions as we work, create, and wait for the day,
To say to you,
To them,
To us,
To everyone,
We work, we walk, we talk,
We slide down the mountain side,
To drive, to love, everyone,
As we continue our stride,
Of life,
Living in old age
Burn our sage,
Engage to meditate.
That is fate.
I found myself on the boulevards of life
And time, space, and dreams,
As I stepped down out of the subway to the light,
In the city we must eat, drink, dance, walk, talk, sleep, greet.
The sun is bright out of sight,
Or it is in sight
In the night?
I stand here looking down to the city below.

Tell me it’s so,
Far below.
This mountain I find myself standing on
For so a long song
Filled with all the crevices and trees
That sway this way
And that way
As the music plays
Along the way.
WRITTEN BY
VICKI LAWANA
CREATED IN MUSIC FORM, WRITTEN EXCLUSIVELY BY VICKI, & PRODUCED EXCLUSIVELY BY VICKI
A PROSE, A POEM, A SONG, A COMMENTARY OF LIFE IN 2024.
COPYRIGHT 2024
TRUSSELLI ART
OCTOBER 2, 2024

About the Creator
Vicki Lawana Trusselli
I am 76 year old California mythic storyteller blending lived truth, technology, and sovereign survival into multimedia art.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.