I COLLECT RAINDROPS
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BARAKA,The movie - All in All , All is one!
The 11th Hour - Environmental documentary
I collect Raindrops
I walk among, through bicycle wheels, infectious screens
and the slow hand of the trumpeter.
Across frontiers of ferocious streets and the chequered board of the lonely players face.
I sit in the coffee cup of humanity soaked in mothers milk,
In the temple bar where no melody can be heard:
Where memories stir and fall into puddles –
I collect raindrops
Under the umbrella of a conquered soul,
Formidable, wielding daggers of sharpened intent.
Along canals of rigid structure governed by autonomous demons,
Where Money falls into tins and the value of things is measured in productivity,
Where meddling minds turn the screw on existance and prod like herders into an enslaved abyss of pixels,
Beside the graffiti on the walls –
I collect raindrops
To the faces who are torn away and pinned to a torrent of shadows ,
under high rise edifices of technoligical slavery,
feeding the honeycomb of broken dreams and dim suns.
Where art soars in the cradle of the nameless, clasping its core and holding it high to the sky, in an incessant click, click world -
I collect raindrops
Amongst wise chatter and the laughter of the young,
Paintings of bright futures and the flags of radiance,
In between tulips and molten ideas,
Gripping ledges – peering through
Amongst treacherous murderous men whose rancid legacy poisons the hope of children, the stink of contradiction and the savage heart of corperate fire -
I collect raindrops
On lands wild and untamed
the flow of the river
the fresh hope of a new borns eyes
In the depths of lovers
The crest of days
The wings of a hunter
The solitude of mountains
The stain glass words that weld friendship
The untapped celebration of a dancers step
Where others dare not tread,
I collect raindrops
In the deserts of poverty and the wells of royals,
Wrapped in community and searing, soaring , fearless things
In unity and the sabre of wisdom, roads glorious and fluid and across autuminal skies.
Amongst crooks and thieves and the downtrodden,
In hunger and despondancy – on the floorboards of humanity with my ear to the ground,
Vibrating to the malnourished hum
I have now abandoned everything to collect raindrops.
In triumphant gestures, contemplation and stories of momentous things,
Down moonlit avenues and nomadic tramlines,
In the cathedrals of high priests whose outstretched hand reaches no one but their own,
I sing –
I collect raindrops
Amongst the talons of barbaric industry, and the ticking of clocks
the unshaven menace of fundamentalists and the grip of angels,
In the fury of the caged families of imperialism and the capricious warriors who shall come undone.
In the broken voice of the oppressed, sipping from the ladle of democracy,
the spring waters of time,
pubescant stars crafted by a carpenters hand,
brooding moments and the placenta of ancient secrets,
My mothers hush
My fathers strength
My sisters warm eyes -
I collect raindrops
And nothing inbetween
Nothing inbetween.
By Matt Kemp
10/3/2008
From the film One giant leap