I’ve sweat the whole day through
Effort for my back
Hands are feeling like they’re stiff
From lifting heavy loads
Eyes are closing as I think
Seat calls me dear
And in my hand, a quenching beer
Which soon shall make me fall
Asleep with happiness enthroned
So I can begin again the ‘morrow.
There are days when we get lost
Into windows of another dream
– A fraction of the cost
For a long line of never-did-try,
Yet even on the eve
Our bellies ache with unease.
Though when all is on the mantle,
We catch on, let to run
– Wild beasts become our name;
Visions flash before our eyes;
Wild nights turn into days of blood
Pumping through our passionate veins,
Which leave a strong mark upon
The rivets of our days,
Until, again, we call out
Through each windows we call our names.
Did the heart of my song
Ring out to you wrong?
Wrote it down twice
Just to make sure I’s clear,
For lost in verse
Was my biggest fear
That reached down to me
From an overhead cloud
Grabbed on, brought on the sea
Right to my heart;
So torrential soaking
Left the biggest swell
Inside my song
That rang out all night
Into a saucer holding tea
Comforting me that I am now free.
Dare these wings to fly
Though they ache like grace feels shy
And the good calls lonely
With each sunset it watches,
Walking away from pennies on the pavement
While holding on to nothing
– No resemblance of life.
Can a rhythm be found?
A pulse of life struggling
With iron clad hemispheres
Buckling down a goodnight.
So there, can flight be had?
Geese migrate South
As these trees set in
For an evening of dew
And a pale awakening
To ancient songs of return.
I roared so fiercely through my being
I shook the mountain tops so high,
Upon which to leave a plateau
For your grace to rest upon.
And like the forest we crossed below,
We screamed of wilderness!
A yell that shook the river’s flow –
Turbulent and rambling froth.
Now the golden lace of sun
Set its throbbing fingers upon
Your back of a leopard’s frame
Which gave way to the universe’s spin.
I wandered into a great mission bell
Symptoms I had thought undone
Dried landscape, cactus, tumbling sage brush
Full brim upon my ringing head.
Without a shining pistol to my name
No weapon had come to arm;
With my wiles I winked upon
A sweet lady resting there
Upon a wooden, well worn bench
Nestled shallow within the shade
Of two dried lips steadying the sun
And two tear drops settling in,
For in a moments recollect
In a conversation with a ghost
The history of each footprint
Came rustling quickly back
Like the wind out on a saddle
Rustling each tear, dusty
The moment had passed,
The dog returned to rest,
And ringing faded away.
I drove over the bridge today
The same bridge we first held hands under.
I didnt stop to hear the babbling rocks
That had entranced me then, that day
Nor did I stop to enjoy the walk
Down to the well cared for meadow
That had me following butterflies
From timothy to my bellybutton.
My mind today was in a stranger place
One far from your embrace,
It was lost in a world of wonder
Knowing I’m not there anymore.
I started eating your sunflowers again today
The ones we never finished
On the day before you went away,
But I must say, I am still not clear of mind
With the imprint you left on me,
Though I cannot see too clearly your face
I feel your kindness now far away.
I’ve fallen into
A rabbit hole of goo.
Spewing all sorts of muck
A red river
And a dirty shoe.
Down down down I go
A pleasure cruise gone bad
Leaving little bits of lies
Discarded, buried deep.
And then at once
Sky opens up
Dragons retreat, depart
Leaving dark clouds
And a softened heart
I am not the innocence you thought me to be
I’m scarred and torn from the inside out
Been held down and held out and held you in my hand
And I’m not sorry I ever let you in.
See, I’m a Tuesday in a Wednesday dress
Walking slowly with an elegant step
That sings songs of bygone;
A ministry of typewriters click-clacking away,
Mindfully absent, worrying about another day
That’s long past the next Prime Minister’s term.
I spill coffee in my hands to smell the beans,
Leaving a thorough understanding
Of what you do to me.
Though I leave my open door ajar,
I walk past and sing my song.