Journey Begins (day 317)

We all need to forget once and a while
The old roads that have led us to here
There is no grand scheme of things that
Haven’t been trampled by the many footsteps
Upon which the journey belong

There are no once worn-once gone soldiers of fortune
Forgotten because of the mysteries
That plague the little corners of the estate
There is no black sin that sits upon the foyer
Idly waiting with lazy eyes, slightly smirking
As if in a trance ready to spoil the story

No journey begins at the end of the line
For no line begins at the house of resting
There are no paths that lead you to misery
There are only details that strike their glare
So daringly sharp that elders wear sun-glasses
There are no people that expect what’s been left
Save the flyers that will not be guest

Forget Me (day 316)

I’ve been filled with broken hearts today
With the letters of lost friends
That haven’t returned from the Zoo

I’m plagued with the bitter cold
That fights every corner of these
Damned streets I walk today

I do smile, on the occasion
When I’ve warmed my belly against
The cool wooden railing with the nuts

My grassy roots have plowed for me
Temptations trails all across my face
The bitter lines left for healing to long

Tomorrow I shall pull your pant leg
I shall walk alone with my ears closed again
Forget me, I won’t be here again

Unknown (day 314)

I’ve flicked the switch into the landscape unknown
It’s rocky, so perhaps then I do know the unknown
Perhaps it leads me to doors I’ve already crossed
And hands I’ve already shaken
Perhaps the golden wings that watch my way
Have slipped through these tracks
Racing against time to make the next happy hour
Resisting the urge to buy yet another round on inflation

Then perhaps I’ve just looked the other way
As the violins play this lonely song along my own yellow brick road
“Cool-y he walks with a keen gaze and a saunter in tow”
Light dipping as he reaches his destination
Pulse quickening as he sees his obsession
Hand slipping as he feels his erection
But the wind dies down, allowing the leaves to come to rest
The calloused palms also find their idle locale

..and the trumpets announce his arrival

West (day 313)

Perhaps there were golden wings that floated by my being
On the day I looked the other way
When the cold shoulders washed away the last glowing embers
Of the landsliding memories

Indeed, without the violet flowers littering these steps
I’d have passed alone long ago
Hand in hand with the deceit of deception fondly
Clearing the way for another

But then again, who sold the calloused palms
Of the unholy man to the corporate man
Who gave the soldiers of misfortune the chance to count on banks
Of unwashed driveways sliding sideways

It wasn’t I. It wasn’t thou who hast led the unmarked graves
Blindly into the horizon, which ironically
Is the same direction of home: West
Perchance you could give a lone man a hitch?

In time that cold shoulder turned my way and lingered
Changed from the years of regret and abuse
Unmarried by chance to the same banks the soldiers do depend
Unobserved by the same furrows that shade my brow

Below (day 312)

Today I bore the mark of a sinner
I walked alone and stared down the sun
Loaded pistols and switchblades
I left the house of the holy and
Walked through the dungeon of sin

Chains and clasps there littered the walls
Cold and uneven cementing
Picked at by years of torture;
I slept on these floors while I made love
To the angels that floated down from above

Glassy ponds sink dark inside
Uncharted landscape brewing deep below
The art of deception lies in the sheer
The reflection staring out from below
The dormant eyes that call out aloud

Dark Sun (day 311)

I’ve skinned the rabbit
And laid waste to the endless assault of horoscopes
I’ve gone and pushed away the lone
Birds that tweet sweet sing songs in my ears lately

Perhaps I could warm my cold bones
On a burning tiger who roams the flat plains
Too hungry to play in the puddles of fun
With eyes only for the dying young

I’ve come across the melting lands
That have borne down upon the global landslide
Of humanity, influenced by plastic heavens
Too many hurricanes and exploding reactors

Perhaps the rat will save the forever burdened
Dogs of paradise who scare the gangly strangers
With a smile and surfacing anger
Left alone for too long and we’ve got trouble
We’ve got too many lonely dogs that have
Gone stray with troubled warriors
Lost on a beaten path that plays havoc
With the astrologers mind

Perhaps tomorrow will arise with high-class
Windswept caravans. The kind that beg for you
To abuse it with spray paint and sharpies
Perhaps then I shall walk with the dark sun

Here Before (day 310)

Seduction just happened
It just walked through that door
The salacious humor crawling
Around my haven ce soir

But before I moved further
Before I groped for the dainties
I smelled sweet surrender
I felt what had grown
As these vines here before

So to pack on more lust
We crowded around the centerfold
We crushed on the crowns there
That had never been soiled

But to remember the last show
Was to slow for the gang
We slapped on the new face
And respected more for the glow
Of the walking here before

Thoughts of a Lover (day 309)

I’ve seen your innocent eyes stare down the tunnel at the mysterious lights beaming afar
The concentration burrowing deeply into your mouth like a cold cup of tea
With slivers of lemons helping ease the heavy burden pulling
At the leftover blankets slowly pushed to the foot of the bed and
Sent to the lover with stamped on confessions of postal intent

I’ve seen your glitter in the spotlights as you sway back and forth
Enjoying the eyes as much as enjoying the floor for which you project out
Your deepest of feelings impulse by impulse like a rhythmic machine gun
Shouting into the night in a blaze of glory, wounded hearts, and
Sweet drinks that roll off your tongue in unrelenting expressions

I’ve felt your enigmatic charm work it’s warm fingers around my neck
Slowly twisting and turning into the back seat of a foreign sports car
Emergency brakes and slow tunes that make you lay back, legs up
Into the deep plans that formulate as if the air you breath
Small Christmas lights float around the room like a performer can

And I’ve come back for more, like a hungry panther prowling in the night
Parking in number four to piss off the neighbors that don’t like elephants
Hanging around their back doors, we still invite old handbags and discarded novels
To collect at the end of the hallway in an act of sharing randomness
Forgotten quickly with a heavy wooden door with a slight twist and cold that doesn’t turn on anymore

Old Worn Out Stool (day 308)

Leftover confessions sit on the old worn out stool
Gathering dust bunnies in the corner
Spider webs slowly crawl into the sunlight
And time slips between the cracks eroding

The warm fly stops a while
Basking in the stray beams sent in loveletters
From the sun lollygagging afar

With a slam the scared stool shakes
Temperamental floor boards wobbling
From the heavy oak door’s hinges

Muddy work boots shift the scene
Askew rays reach but cannot touch
The newly placed stool covered in rags

And darkness ensues
For the old worn out stool
Night trickles in