Nothing can compare to those golden crowns
The ones that rest behind the steel gates
Behind the thick glass walls with laser beams
Nothing can even match the shine they have
Or the sheer awe they inspire
Especially when freshly polished
Directly beneath those strategically placed pot lights
Nothing can quite make the cut when compared
Things come close, real close
But in the end it’s always those crowned jewels that
Capture the essence of every boy out there
Enough so that even the jesters turn their heads twice
Month: July 2012
Pulling (day 413)
Pulling me in
I feel the sin
I breathe the glory
I see the glow
I crawl in closer
I swail longer
I laugh deeper
I fall longer
I’m there
Perfect Pitch (day 412)
The perfect pitch that follows me around town
Through the back of the bushes with a hand of her skirt
Down the cobblestones on the squeaky bike
Over the bridge with the perfect arc
And the crystal clear water with the biggest fish around
The same one that whispered in my ear as I sipped on the morning tea
Admiring the speed at which the croissant oiled the paper it came wrapped in
That stopped the spread of a thousand tiny crumbs
Through the hair that felt good today
And the warm sun that easily was enjoying the morning as much as I
This is the breath that I inhale as I think
That pushes me forth into the pastures so free
And gallantly holds my head up high as I
Hold up my hand and shout the perfect pitch that rattles through my teeth
This is how I stretch in the morning, inviting the day to begin
Whispered On Breezes (day 411)
And why did I cry those symphonies of sadness
Gloating in my fear of change and misunderstanding
Shivering in my woven cottons, thick with dew
And why did I turn on the sad songs late at night
Darker than the dreams threaded upon the weary roads
Wilder than the rivers yet to be crossed
And why did I put out the white flag, tattered in the wind
Sickening the neighbors with fear and dread
Inviting the armies to beat down and rape
And why did I walk the street that had no name
Windy and uneven, thin and unkept, silent and poorly lit
With hands deep inside the pockets that had no bottom
It’s the answers I hear whispered on breezes late at night
Implied Pain (day 410)
Your pain, it holds me tighter
Slowly bleeding me of breath
Rapidly darkening the corners
Losing all depth and truth
While pushing away my sturdy ground
Grasping at dangling straw
Slashing out in water
Pedaling without a chain
Speeding while in neutral
Spinning in the sand
Wrinkles cross your furrowed brow
Tucking your eyes away neatly
Fixing your lips into a slit
Cursing the dawn for it’s birth
Chasing away the zen of it’s wake
Paddling through open waters
Listening to the lone loon call
Falling beneath the foggy eyelids
Drinking that warm milk
Sinking into a padded fort
Beware the Legs (day 409)
I promise
Once I beget
Control of my leg
I shall forever
Then beware
Of dangers
That lurk
High up above
As I come
Down below
Beware the landing
Save your dear feet
Live long
With two legs
Bleeding Bride (day 408)
I watch as your harmony is met with at last
With turmoil not sought, but came none-the-less
You cried for a savior but none did arrive
You laid down and wept then, like a lame bride
But you took care to watch the time
To avoid a recent folly
Out from nowhere did arrive
The winds of a far off land
It was then that crying started
On the spot, in your rags
And all those around you said
Shaking with their heads
There goes a poor maiden’s dream
Unaware as she bled
Steps (day 407)
I sit here upon the steps of Notre Dame
Waiting for the future to escape from my dreams
I’ve planned for the hour at which my chariot shall come
I’ve dressed for the occasion, prepared my hair
One last look to the north I shall make as I rise
Putting on my shoes I shall salute those who have before
My time it is now to become forever known
My guises have disappeared, countenance unknown
Tomorrow is another day, inevitably one
I ask myself again: “where to art thou, against vain?”
Flower Nymphs (day 406)
Laying alone amongst the flowers
Is the only company I should need
Bees flower my conscience with honey
So thick it should root my evil
In unfounded depth of a mothers milk
Meanwhile, dumbfounded maidens
Frolic carelessly in the garden at night
Trying to escape the eye of delight
If anyone catches them they’ll let out a yelp
Like the nymphs of the wooded lands
The maidens of the garden who look about in fright
Carry me into dreams I’ve dreamt once before
Follow me into depths as I’ve crawled through the door
For now I shall rest here then
Amongst the poppies, buttercups, and paintbrushes: zen
Then I will fall away, lost in a cause
Then I shall dream again
For tomorrow always comes again
The Fall (day 405)
Candles going out
Means it’s time to go home
I never wanted to leave
It’s no different tonight
Wild horses float through my head
They cannot drive me away
But candles will burn me out
Leave me sleeping alone
Again tonight
Alone in my three post bed
The hard stuff that never soothes my soul
Creeps into my soul like a deep winters freeze
Casually dropping in
For a mid-summers dream
When I cry whispers
The dangers that lay ahead fall behind
Ground grows thinner in the air up here
Cowboys head home
Only their fire smouldering in the earth
Lay claim to the path
Leaving the only trace of the evenings before
In a ballistic approach to ground control
And into the day when the sun grows higher
Clouds form again, signalling the fall