This is not my stop
This is not where I’m getting off
I have not become lost
But I was just reading
The daily news
And became fascinated
With the going-ons
After which I noticed
You sitting there
With a weird glare
Just like a stare
Which as you can see
Has confused me
As I wait here now
For my right stop
Shouldn’t you be alive on the banks
Arm in arm with a damsel who thinks
The world shines deeply out from your heart
And from here, every breath gives her a start
Take time, tarry a while and give thanks
Mind the laugh that cripples pride
Vertical energy lines capturing
Oscillating reverberations
Reflecting off the inner walls of
Animosities subterranean
Mind the lanes that sway about
Shaking footsteps flat beneath
Klop klop. Klop klop.
I can see the stars when I close my eyes
Time flickers back to a time in space
Where long grass tickled cold toes and exposed shins
Walking lackadaisically over uneven ground
Arm in arm, enjoying the moment fully
Fuzzy groups of dancing nymphs
Flirting with mavens of the night
Desire spreading thick
Anticipating cool morning fog
Loud vibrations floating through nights air..
I can smell the essence there that night
Palpable reckoning, subtle beckoning
Tentative but raw passion driving
It wasn’t infused delusion crippling my senses
It was more romantic than that
Separation
Distant footsteps
Rattling keys
I had a talk with the devil
Not a flippant small talk talk
A bust your balls
Childhood memories
Throw your heart
Blood on sleeves kinda talk
We got deep
I go back for more tomorrow
Something my soul needs
Not just to touch
Tactillian sensory
But something my soul needs
Eyes drifting into
Long hours again
Just something my soul needs
Not warm roasting coffee
Infusing comfy cottons
But something my soul needs
I’d like something my soul needs
I’ve heard those thoughts waft around before
Not likely reflecting untampered
Recollections filter absent minded memories
Speaking no evil for I hear no evil
And gods of the dance hall tighten their platinum toe straps
Lifting on the One-Two-Three avenue sidewalk
Until I misunderstand requesting minds
I say to my lovers: “I’m all man, I’m all man.”
Then in Hol-e-wood I’m left cement stiff
I’m left because I’m all that’s left
My fingers have turned to dust
Allotting memories two square feet
Of layered hemp paper
Verbally spewing thoughts
That catch like pitch
To unwritten scripts
I’m lost
I’m good with maps
Thine eyes, thrice see thrice blind
Then too shall winds sweep
Lifting footsteps laid deep
Leaving unwritten the paths going back
Unspent truths cursing vicariously
Through unconditioned thought experiments
Spent in upward, vigorous motions
Passing through injected morphisms
Like seasonal growth in natures garden
Acting on un-mended realisms
Lost on battle grounds, littered and forgotten
Aside furious warhorses
Foaming with fever generously applied by spurs
Acting on behalf of triumph
Mounted on the back of the Phoenixes wings
Rebirth, regrowth, replenishing vigor
Re-soiling the fields Kings died upon
With fresh blood, fresh sacrifice
Fresh King Nothings dancing with death
Recoiling in a moments thought
Flickering through a pale moonlit window
A firmer grasp, a clutching expression
A last gasp from the old warhorse put to rest
Reaching the heavens upon slaughters deathbed
