The dark pitter-patter watering the ground
Next to the paper bag I sit on
Gives me that Hank III slow train blues
Rhythmically eating away conscious lobes of my brain
Reminding me how often I’ve felt this way before
Stuffed down a hole by my own negligence
Lacking attention to details
Uncommitted hippy attitude to all things present
I’ve put myself here
Wet paper bag singing it’s soul to my lonely hooker’s mind
Sometimes we all get an urge to howl at the moon
Do you have a twin sister?
Because if you say you don’t know me
I’m certain we’ve met once before…
It was raining, and cold
I was walking home with one hand in my pocket
The other was carrying a yellow plastic bag
With my tall book tucked away neatly inside
I looked at your car there
Shining and black
It was a rare automobile
And I commented on that
You waved your hair, eyes glared at me
A look that would leave most men cowering
Me? Nah. It didn’t fool me
We were good friends in a previous life
That’s how I knew we’d met again
Long forgotten hide-and-seek game
We found each other again, didn’t we?
Did you get that same feeling?
Little butterflies in your stomach
Knees that started to shake
And breath that came in short wisps?
I sure did, not because of the look
It was the memories that flooded back
Years had passed in searching
Where only a calendar could tell what we’d lost
I felt your heart flutter
In spite of your cool demeanor
That’s why I never looked back
When you told me to get in that
Rare black automobile
That’s why it hurt me so much
When you drove that car away
Take care not to hang my good shirts up on the wire
With the crease cutting the top half from the bottom
The way you leave it out on the line all day
One half gets sun-bleached, and that don’t ever go away
This bothers me when I’m trying to be professional
Giving off an air of respectability
A man has got to uphold certain fashion statements after all
If he wants to indeed be called a man
You can understand this simple request, right mom?
This isn’t to much to ask is it?
Swelling foot
Straight back
Dotted lines
Swooping down to greet earth
Sands of serenity blow in from beyond
Groping all with each passing second
An hourglass figure high into the sky
One step forth into winds of change
Takes away sad thoughts
Takes away deep regret
Takes away wallowing injustice
Attacking the littlest of extremities
Upon soul’s troubled mind
Eyes closed and arms outstretched
Deep breaths that fuel sands
Crawl up the spine of soul
Into central nerves that regulate movement
Where a shake begins to take control
Into the heart of passion
Into the soul of hunger
Into open arms of love
Until the last drop of mal-content
Fades off into wicker brooms
That sweep away forgotten thoughts
Passion filled the sunset that night
Bursting out of control in the sky
Rupturing from the heavens onto earth
And splashing the vista with brilliance
Glory that struck the landscape
With curls around every tree
Silhouetted every rock
And painted every glass walled tower
Before the flag was sent skyward
Hue shifted into darkness
The sun rode on into tomorrow
And night grew eternal long
In all conditions
And the word was met
Out from the distance
Sprung one, and his net
And all through the forest
Then through the seas
Onward to habitats
And into the streets
From that day forth
Set out to the edge
Was the lot and their goals
He was a master
A master at a craft
One that spewed madness
And another out of stress
One that strews happiness
One with regret
For then one became
In his shelter of back trash
A champion of his craft
Living in amongst
The nature he was of
He walked on his coats
His suit heaven felt
His boat in the moor
To which he escaped
After the deed had been done;
Tracked and then captured
Tamed and then toweled
Dried like a mint
For tea was the score
Figure me this
Let me be your sprigot
You insectide of madness
You inhibitor of fleas
What then
Lost in a net of spiritual madness
Taken from all beings
Then figure me that
Standing proud
Was our gallant soldier
Basking in his glory
Basking in his gorgeousness
Waving his flag bloody proud
And smiling
Victorious
Aches off the coast of your dying heart
Wallow in darkening corners of my eyes
My shifting conscience begs of you forgiveness
Sourly settling into this big-ol-comfy couch
Do not wallow in misery that follows choices
Gaining entrance into back rooms of smokey bars
Cold glasses and top shelf stuff
Free lap dances all night long
Revel in freedom’s advances
Hit the high notes like a 9 year old choir boy
Smoke the last cigarette until the last duck call doesn’t work
And then we shall reign victorious
For deep within the advances of your grieving heart
Rests a moth, fluttering it’s wings
Preparing for the coming months ahead
Where you too shall learn to fly like a butterfly