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I’m not too old to slam,
because I need
now more than ever
to spill this truth:
the older I am,
the more alive I feel.
I am a tattered
paradox of passion,
a dying ember
eager to explode
into flame.
The anger that has
raged inside me
for so long
holds up a giant,
final fuck-you finger
to the flaccid face of fate,
raises up its hissing head
and spits its cobra venom
into the great sucking
eye of death.
It’s time for me to slam it
down. I’m finally old enough
to really say what I mean
and not give a shit what people think.
Look into the mirror of my words.
If you think I’m less than I am
because I’m older than I feel,
I’m talking to you. There is
nothing left but the truth.
I tell you this because
I’m done with blame.
Look at me,
and if you see yourself,
it’s because we are the same.
I may finish before you start,
but we all run the same race.
For how long or at what pace
doesn’t really matter.
It’s the human race,
and we have no choice
but to run, and run we do,
and no one running
with their heart open
ever loses, and no one
reaching for more
leaves empty handed,
and not a single stride
goes to waste.
It’s time to get down to it.
Our forever is now and
forever changing into then.
Nothing you can say
makes it easier to die.
The truth is simple:
we’re lost without love.
As long as I’m alive,
I’ll never forgive the greed
that rots our world,
that nips our heels
and turns our Eden
to wasteland.
Nor will I ever abide
the hate that
rips apart our souls,
if we don’t take a stand.
We are a bursting
supernova of love,
silhouetted by
the lightning
of our desire.
When we smile,
we shine more brightly
than a billion stars.
When we grieve,
it is a hurricane of pain,
a deluge of hurt without end.
My brothers and sisters
are of all ages.
Together we are more
colorful than the fish
that glide among the coral,
more tenacious than wild thistle.
Together we wield the power
of the human heart,
there’s nothing more potent,
nothing we cannot overcome.
I’m not too old or too white to slam,
because I’m half African,
half Asian, half Jew, half Arab,
half indigenous, half developed,
half wild, half dead, half human,
half animal, half budding green,
half dark night.
I am the dawning
half bright half-light.
My life is more
than half over,
but my half-life is infinite.
I’ve half a mind
to leave this half-assed
country if there was
somewhere else I could find
that was halfway decent.
No, I’m not too old, too white
or even too straight to slam,
because I’m half man,
half woman, half gay,
half lesbian, half trans,
half willing, half-witted and half-cocked.
I’m always halfway between
myself and somebody else
and always some when
between now and again.
I’m on my way to being me.
Being alive
is all about connection.
Nothing else matters.
There’s nothing evil, nothing
wrong, nothing about you,
nothing inside of me,
nothing human I cannot love.
My brothers and sisters are misters
and misses, and men who love men,
and women who love women, and men
who were born women and women
who were born men, and men and women
who are both or neither a man or a woman.
It makes no difference.
How much I love you
has nothing to do with your color,
your gender, your dress,
who you fuck or how old
you aren’t,
but with who you are.
It’s all about the joy
of you becoming you.
I know now I’m not too old
to slam because I can still
see the beauty inside everyone.
I know no matter
what we think we want,
or how hard we try
to be someone else,
we can only ever be
who we truly are.
I’m not too old
to slam because
I’m not too old to love.
I sit on the ragged
edge of death’s bed.
I blink and gulp the light,
like a goldfish gulps for air,
and decide each morning
to get up and live,
to love and become
and choose not to
sleep beyond the darkness.
If my heart is still beating,
I open it.
The longer I live,
the more I have
a need to give.
The more I give,
the more I have
to live for.
I’ll never be
too old to care,
never too old to slam.
Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of JoyLafayette, Colorado
Mad Dog writes from the moment and sings from his heart. His influences include sources as divergent as William Butler Yeats
& the delta blues. His songwriting is sincere, simple & often humorous. He has recorded many solo & collaborative projects featuring his spontaneous compositions on harmonica, Native American flute & Theremin. He is also the founder of Mad Dog Blues & The Astral Project....more
The Mojo Medicine Show is an unique blues duo that blends the jug juice of 1930's juke band music with the electric kool-aid jams of the 1960's. Mad Dog Friedman | Mad Dog Blues | Peddlers of Joy
The second album by French-Moroccan power quartet Bab L' Bluz is packed with dizzying melodies and rich instrumentation. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 14, 2024
