Waltzing this dead grass,
Upon a lane – straight, into glowing.
Fingers lingering upon touch
That this flickering ambiance
Drifts back and forth;
Death in a secret glass vile
Encircled three times
With a locket of hair,
Clutched close to thy heart.
Linger about a moment
Of a whitecap
Rhythmically drifting by;
One thousand times
Repeated
Upon my exhale
As dull branches
Sweep barren grounds
Of my soul
I have called you again
Tracing rain drops
Down my bleeding window
And answering to shadows
The barren tree outside
Casts upon my heart.
Why am I not funny,
I says to I,
Why does my wit
Not shift side to side
With laughter
And tangle up
An out of sorts character
Loosely based on
Shoes too big
And always with the glasses?
A terrible wind
Is blowing through
The house again tonight.
I’m lucky to
Have got on my
Moccasins for extra warmth.
And if I am
Of my right mind
I’ll surely bring out my socks
To keep my toes
And this empty bed
Warm throughout tonight.
Your truth shall not lay untold,
A liberty demanded by your lens.
Spread far, to a billion souls!
And left them telling more.
This sacrifice you’ve made,
These injustices you’ve witnessed,
Have scarred you deeper then we know
And left you far from home.
Yet you have challenged yourself to be
A man to change the world!
A man who walked, sympathetic in thought,
To capture truth, indefinitely.
I know I’ve seen but little of what
It’s taken to make the view,
A tree or two, a holocaust,
Amazonians who eat the sloth.
I recognize the commitment required
To flap the shutter again,
I know desire that trumps all hells
To keep thy foot aloof.
For without your alert eye
Trained towards this land we all call home,
Surely we’d all have remained
Ignorant till the day we die.
So be thy grace as you continue,
Be the majesty we step into each day,
A glory we call on friendly terms:
Home, our land, our people, our soul.
From my angle I wasn’t the nerd,
I had the best cold coffee
Settling in the bottom of my to-stay mug,
Rattling around the inside
Of my drastically hungry belly.
I had too many ideas to be passive
And in discourse with unfriendly patrons.
Why are you smiling at me, saying hello?
I’m on the other side of the room.
Can’t you see my furrow, blinded by dull lights?
Perhaps I’m the unfriendly one.
From my angle, I was the mission.
I had written the outline and
Focus was my middle name.
The timer was ticking and
I wasn’t wasting motivation
On Whiskey River in the Jar’O.
I had water to accompany the drip.
Keep the lights low and let
This chaotic music recklessly skip
Into oblivion my cycling mind
Which cannot refuse to be free.
From my angle I had a perfect view
Of both the flighty pixie,
Distracted with a proper stein,
And the siren gently calling my name.
I knew her, of course,
One of the few to break this furrow
And cause me to tarry by name.
Thus, I aggressively gather my activist heart
And settle my score with a battling pickaxe
And two shiny 2013 quarters
That rattle over the buzz and out the door.
The holy roads of checkmate
Lay my English sober
Leaving lions at the gate
Screaming at misshapen strangers
Spitting on this cigarette ridden sidewalk
With stutters and sideways mysteries
That, to my careful eyes
Jogging left and to the right,
I feel empathetically complacent
And take my bishop onward: strong.
Sometimes I just want to call you my own,
Hold you into my arms to roll you into my soul.
I’m not going out tonight anymore,
Instead I’ll be boiling sweet tea for just two.
This is me trying for the best of my life
And I will not tire of you on my mind
Because you are what I want for my own.
How little you know of the feeling that grows,
Place a hand on your cheek, look into your eyes.
Your moon is my sun, your breath is my wind,
And I am here now, your hand in my hand,
Off to the moon or a little more slow,
Along with the ways of the sun in our souls.
This is my middle finger.
I take the softest wind drift
To an older enemy,
Who sighed inside a bottle
That floated down a river
And sweeped into the delta
Of rice fields and manure.
Care ye’to thee ol’letters?
As I recited memories
On twenty pound letterhead.
Till I turned around forever.