nordic roots man

anne came in like a hippie

they all came in that cold winter day

the nordic roots man came in with papers in hand

and with dreads threw my ideals away

could it be the rastafarian style

in a place where marijuana don’t grow

the nordic roots man came in with rasta hands

and told us what we ought to know

 

and ringo’s on the state-run airwaves

bring vibes to the people of the Baltic state

and all I can think to say

is body boom shiki dum dum too-rye-ay

 

iwona and asha and I pondered

as we see this roots man throw a spiel

who is the man with a political hand

telling us about religious deals

and though i’m confused by accent words

the memory makes it all worthwhile

the nordic roots man does everything he can 

and does it in the reggae style

 

and ringo’s on the state-run airwaves

bring vibes to the people of the Baltic state

and all I can think to say

is body boom shiki dum dum too-rye-ay

 

the DR massive came to town

via the streets of vana Rakvere

small town rhythms get down within ‘em

and make the city life okay

and J.O.C. puts himself on the front stage

the MC’s fronting bashment sound

with a voice like rags J zigs and zags

for the sake of all the Tallinn town

 

and ringo’s on the state-run airwaves

bring vibes to the people of the Baltic state

and all I can think to say

is body boom shiki dum dum too-rye-ay

 

2 years later i sit and ponder

who were these people I saw

did they mean anything to the other young beams

of light, we may just never know

but I still question the answer

of who it was i saw that night

the nordic roots man, he seems to do what he can

in the Rastafari light

 

and ringo’s on the state-run airwaves

throwing dub roots to the cold north sea

bring a rastaman vibration

i’ll take a little home with me

and ringo’s on the state-run airwaves

bring vibes to the people of the Baltic state

and all I can think to say

is body boom shiki dum dum too-rye-ay

homework

they all sit there, lying in a west coast bag

papers lodged in between experience

a mash-up, brought for remembrance

 

i read my paper, the one that made me resent him

i couldn’t stand what I thought was arrogance

but it was more my lack of proper reference

 

i thought Uku said something different that day

said there’s no way a local believes in the spirit

the one in essence, undivided

but that wasn’t the way i thought i could hear it

 

i read my notes, judged a book by its pages

thinking of my own dumb innocence

giving way to something matching true penance

old country

you’re home, stop talking about the days of your lives

when your emotions and motion hit an all-time high

for years you have lingered and harbored this way

and for years and years, i have hoped for the day

where you won’t, start, talking about the old country

and won’t, start, dreaming of when

your hope was your oyster and you didn’t feel cloistered

in shrouds of assimilation

(i don’t want to hear it again)

don’t say a word about all the forests

and don’t speak a thing about all the tall trees

don’t want to hear about clean air and ocean waves

i can’t understand it, so please

don’t, start, talking about the old country

don’t, start, dreaming of when

your hope was your oyster and you didn’t feel cloistered

in shrouds of assimilation

(i don’t want to hear it again)

i don’t care about how much whiskey you drank

and how you defended from bums

who tried to all steal to go buy some old swill

i don’t care that you won

just don’t, start, talking about the old country

and don’t, start, dreaming of when

your hope was your oyster and you didn’t feel cloistered

in shrouds of assimilation

(i don’t want to hear it again)

but wait, you’ll relate, for my story it goes

i did something with my own life

i followed my passion without a sense a ration-

al thought, i just did what was right

and i won’t stop talking of the old country

won’t stop this process today

until my feet have ran on that strip of old land

i’m not going to give up my hand

and i won’t stop dreaming for a better life

won’t stop hoping for more

than this life i was given, there’s more to good livin’

than walking into the same door

if i didn’t have the old country

my life would be a total bore

a battle like Ragnarok

and worse than Stalingrad could ever be

neither blue nor grey

although I seek union over confederacy

I’m seeking liberty

I’m seeking unity

I’m seeking everything not found on this earth

I’m seeking liberty

I’m seeking unity

I’m seeking everything in You for what it’s worth

in You I first saw struggle

but one day I decided on rebirth

relocation

Come August, this blog is going to have a new center.

I’m moving to Newfoundland.