I carried your tobacco pipe
Like a diamond on my mind,
Two puffs and a closed grip
Ricochet all security
Through the back door:
And we pass it on
As night songs
From a holy tent with a view
That lisps night skies
Through dreams of a far off land
But hold me, hold on
Hold the flowers
Growing here so wild
In the palm of your hand
Until it stains your closed grip
The colour of my dream.
Lucifer has finally come to me:
Rocketships still burning fuel so fast
Emptiness everywhere is filling up
All around I feel the burning sun
In my mind it is just like a star
To which I feel consumption in my bones
it is wild and threatening here
Dancing madmen with twice bigger guns
Adam’s father and his henchmen all around
My feet can never leave a solid rock.
Lucifer has finally come to me.
I was waiting for a dream
I had sent off in the mail
A letter to my name
That sadly never came.
But in all my little layers
I had followed to the sea
I waited for a crest
A wave upon my chest.
So there I sat atop the cliff
A bucket in my soul
Catching all the ether
Never held again by her.
I lifted up my downcast eyes
Horizon on my mind
A songbird came and sang to me
Carried me far off, out to sea.
Tell me how time came
Took away my mind
Left me floating in a cloud
– So low –
Mississippi river’s got my soul
Floating down my day
Hanging from a big fir tree
Gone between its cracks
Watching for the moon to show
My river rambles on.
No, it is not thy cause
It is exactly thy momentum
Of this beating heart
That fluctuates between
Hunger and pain
Life and death
Wet and dry
These contrasts to live indeed!
That keep flowing forth
Such delicate evolutions
Of thy soul and mind
And push me, ever more.
When you used to sing me songs
I was James Dean and you were love
And wind flowed through our hair
Past a highway sign that read: ‘see ya later’.
When you used to run your hand
Across the front summertime chest
I’d look you up and down
Until we’d both run all round.
When you called me that last time
I was a million miles away
There was static playing on every line
And my voice was in a tin can.
Now, when you come to my mind
You’ve still got those wild daises in your hand
Your smile is the size of the sun
Where we’ve both just begun.
If you were at peace
Would you find the motivation to move on?
Would you step away
Wreck your thoughts
For a better way?
How many moons must smile at your soul
Before the sun begins to rise
With you on it’s mind?
Does peace found ever stay a while?
Does it last into our silence?
Does it come along
Through the wind so free?
Does it catch you in a dance?
When did we lose the underground
The deep devils that wrecked things
That spray painted innocence away
And held up dirty slogans
On hand written signs
That didn’t follow general consensus.
I don’t understand you anymore
I hear words that make sense
But it doesn’t help me understand you any more
And like my shoes I found in a department store
That squeak like the others
I’m floating down easy street
With intention on my mind.
Am I this made up?
I’m growing angry at the devil’s draft
The experience I’ve left behind
Dry and balding, a sour glass
Chew me up and spit me out
Slap me with some beaver fat
I’m growing old and losing time
And I’m putting each sequence on a list
To burn up in tomorrow’s fire.
Upon the dock I sat
Waiting for a charm
To fulfill my absence;
A lingering presence
Like lapping monotony
In waves of a silent pool,
Like an overgrown tree
My well worn mind,
Drawing figure eights
In shadows of every doubt.
There was no moon at midnight
And my road was clambering on
I saw what appeared to be shadows
But from what direction I could not see the source
Nor could I understand their movement
For my breath was beating strongly
Inside my mind that couldn’t sit still.
They say whenever you’re lonely
To hug a tree in the woods,
That everything will be better
Once you listen to the wind through leaves.
But my footsteps weren’t taking me there
My trees were full of eyes
That growled when I got too close
My fire had died down to a whisper
Which danced away upon every breath
That beat so wildly inside.
I tried turning my back to the fire
So I could let my eyes adjust to darkness
Cold dampness swept into my chest
That left my fingers clinching at the dirt
I sat cross-legged on ash
That was surely trying to make it’s way
Up the inside of my leg
Like slowly crawling worms
With no direction home.
My fingers felt like dust
Long gone into a night with no end.
Slowly my eyes began to make out a hue of indigo
Through the trees that crept ever closer
With a faint scent of a silhouette
That began to sing me a song
Reminding me of Joan Baez singing acapella
Which always led me to Bob Dylan
And one of his nearly alarming harmonica solos.
Stars began to blink at me
Through gusting fog that sped
As fast as the dying harmonica sounds.
I could begin to see markings
Upon the bark of the nearest Douglas Fir trees
Bark so thick that my hands impulsively
Rubbed each other
Acutely feeling dusty skin on the back of my hands
As life began to seep back into them,
Shocked one too many times
From the dark night that lay behind.
I pulled my wool blanket closer
Remembering I am a warrior
I am made of two hard feet
That carry me on through a winding
Needle covered path
Weaving past lagoons and over boulders
Over roots and upon grass
Sometimes lost and always home
And rusty feathers settled beside me
Wishing me goodnight, so I fell asleep.