Saturday, October 24, 2015

The Spirit and the Feeling






















I carry the spirit of Northern soul
Of skinhead reggae, rap, psych, ravers, and tunes that roll
You don't believe me? Look into my eyes...

I can rock a party with folk songs or so I used to say
The bits and sometimes bobs of those uniformed days are now in the closet, something to remember on another rainy Vancouver day
Or even to reassemble in a twisted fashion when occasionally off to play

Catch me on the floor

I still dance, and I move, and shake

But really, it’s now my work that shares this tale and the tales of those who gave it their everything in the pre-digital age
Stories literally jump out of circular grooves, record after record, and are read aloud on yellowing pieces of paper

The line is drawn, but it's not visible, simply felt
I can only pray that I am not left behind when my gris-gris is weak
For to run with the pack can be rewarding

Crystal clear vision and booze soaked floors are a thing of the past for many crews and bands long since dismantled
We used to congregate in bars and clubs no longer here and pick up the pieces where we can
The energy remains in youth and while many men and women have passed by and on
Their memories still burn deep within our hearts

As we get older, old gangs fragment, new ones combine, families sprout blossoms, and life never ceases to push straight ahead, even in the face of death

I can never stop believing in all of these things

The feeling remains far too strong

Catch me in the woods or on the road

Always learning

Voluntary in Nature

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