Every time I hear of the city Beirut
I dream of what dreams are made of
There are city lights that wave at me
With a luminosity that cuts through my being
Little chairs with patrons chilling
In a modality unknown to me
But harming with smiles
That feel half drunk and half alive.
My feet rattle off ancient cobblestones
On the better walks of town
But I find the dead alleys
And imagine how many eyes are watching me.
I have companions here
Who sing with instruments only found
Along this edge of the world
And in Gypsy caravans roaming the deadlands.
My lover sleeps with the curtains open
And silk pyjamas that are usually draped
Upon the wooden chair that’s older than I
She burns a scent I can only find here
With old books I cannot read
But admire the covers and the ghosts within
She kisses with a heavy lip
And smiles with a curious snarl
That keeps me here dreaming.
Month: November 2018
A Tickle (day 2720)
I’m not quite a random act
A symbol of sympathy
I’m a golden act of courage
And don’t race me a while
For the band-aids and bloodsuckers
Have strangled me again
No release for the vein, man,
So slap the twitch up
Loosening that grip
With a flag for the lost mission
As it’s winding down
Mirth and a jolly laugh
Round the bush and a damn big tree
Giving me a tickle
As release in elevation
So I sank.
To William Lee (day 2719)
I know why you ran so far away
Not a scene could do for you
The world rambled some unfathomable blithe
And your vision clouded from contempt
Ever growing greed – lost seed
Lemonade stinking in the shade
Yellow circle glasses and a leftover jacket
Naked in soggy rows of an everglade.
I would also run away to the other side
Liberties are assumed and everybody’s ruined
And each land war is solved with a knife.
I would carry on in my inevitable way
No job calling me to pay taxes aside
Just like a hooker in the park and dark lines on her eyes
With a leather jacket man stopping by again
A bag in his hand and a promising grin;
Feeling empty again, night’s unwavering sin.
Though I tell ya William, I wouldn’t have shot the gun
I wouldn’t have taken aim again,
Party tricks and everyone’s looks
Southern games that nobody wins
Makes a man lost into the void.
But if you’d ask me to sing you a son.
Don’t expect it to sound like something you’d want to hear,
I’ll build and collapse and spit at it too
But that’s the price we pay, damn it every day.
Mountain (day 2718)
When the leaves began to fall
You looked away again
Turned your head and said out loud
Mountain, why you growing so tall
But in the Autumn air
You blew the wild rivers afar
Into the foggy glens
Where the wild things went to sleep
But your so gentle feet
Touched not a rock upon the steep
Calling out to soothe each leaf
Cresting at the moon
For your harvest basket took you
From the meadow to the birch copse
To the little brook to cross
Where your harvest basket grew
But silently up so high
Mountain sighed and sighed
Why do you stay so far
Maiden from afar.
Peak (day 2717)
Take me longer than I thought I could
For the land has gone sailed away
With a white breasted Blue Jay
Met two deer who could not stay
So I took a queue and found my way
To the highest peak on this day
That left me wondering if I would sway
For no ghost here could say
And I, left wondering in circles chewing hay
With two doctors who wouldn’t pay
A penny more for sasquachaway
Sun Dried (day 2716)
It was late July
And there stood every Grace
Sun spots and vinegar
And a cigarette in tow.
She thought she was cool
– Dusty cowboy boots –
Humming out my sweetest tune
She smile and blew a kiss,
So I leaned to see
But missing me was the point
I left a mark on her guitar.
She had eyes that looked afar
There I, off in July
And there stood every Grace
Sun-dried windowsills
My heart torn
By the very sun
And I run so I run
And I cry so I cry
In late July I wondered why
To the sea that swallowed me
Home (day 2715)
This is my ol’ home
Two roads lead here
Two roads take me home
Raccoons, beavers,
White tails and jays,
Red spruce, gray poplar,
Two swamps and a small creek
Can’t think of no place
No home I’d rather be
Such yearning to stay
Here at the ol’ home
‘Tis here I’ll be stayin
All ghosts know my name
Been sleeping every night
In sweet long grass
Under constellations
I know by name
Family designs
With a dog who’s as dirty
As the dirt that sets us free
South facing slope
Stage Coach remains
This is the place
I take to callin’ home
Here you’ll find me
Two roads have taken me
Two lives have led me
To this old place I’m home
Pure (day 2714)
Let pure whiskey hold me here all night
Served two years behind cold steel bars
Counted every star upon my old shield
Now I’m two years here with a feeling strong
Wrestling with an old dream gone
With six steel strings and my heart along
Struggling out beyond the the far beyond
That never turned in time to be
What could forever take me free
Twenty seven steel bars
Pure whiskey holding me here all night
Mud (day 2713)
When the mud
Boils up to the surface
Wear your good boots
It’s been raining
Let Them Down (day 2712)
When we’re told we’re not ok
Let them down
When we’re told another way
Let them down
When we’re told we’re not enough
Let them down
When we’re told to stay away
Let them down
When we’re told to be different
Let them down
When we’re told to smile
Let them down
When we’re told to buy more
Let them down
When we’re told to be brave
Let them down
When we’re told to find peace
Let them down
When we’re told to call again
Let them down
When we’re told to sign up
Let them down
When we’re told to follow
Let them down
When we’re told to be advised
Let them down
When we’re told to be ourselves
Let them down
When we’re gone
Let them down