While I’m afraid of what tomorrow brings
I shall pull up my socks and trod forth
While I can only see habitual retreating
I shall encourage you till the end
While my breath comes slower in my dying age
I will squeeze the last of it into you
While my whispers hit only your ears
I will make sure they embrace your thoughts
..and then
In the power of the history
We shall be forever more
If it wasn’t for this cursed intense desire
To see what is behind the door
To take that red pill with a glass of water
I maybe would have had a nice sleep last night
Listening to something nice and easy
Perhaps a small fire cackles in the background
Or the warm smell of tea freshly boiled wafts in
Warm, fuzzy pajamas, with nice slippers to boot
Sometimes it hurts
Sometimes the blood trickles down the sides of your cheeks
And the cold cold hard ground is the only place to lay down
Sometimes faces stare back
Deep and ugly in contorted disgust with what their own eyes meet
Searching for an exit plan, a way out, or a weakness to abuse
Sometimes the is sunshine
Escaping through the clouds in little rays of dancing
Upon walls, upon half faces, upon new growth of flowers
Sometimes it just works
Sometimes when you put all the ducks in a row, and tie your shoes tight
Take those first steps, the others just seem to roll with the flow
Sometimes is what I look forward to
Each and every day that hands us chances to dive into the unknown
The shades of light that flicker back at our conscience and glow
I wander the streets in a seeming cloud of confusion
Faces laughing, talking, swearing in my ear
Sometimes at me, most of the time amongst themselves
And I think: “How obscure this society is,
How little their lives seem to impact mine
Yet without their nonchalance about my business
I would have no business at all”
So it is this way, that I wander through town
Looking upward at the rooftops above
Smiling at strangers, that are confused with my gaze
I notice their inadvertent discomfort at seeing my own eyes
Staring right back at them, with a smile written across their lids
But mostly I notice their interest, behind the scenes
People usually have their own agendas
Scuttling here and there to get done what is to be done
Ignorance yells at me, through some of their gazes
Yet, in some, I see interest and kindness
Today an old lady stopped me in the street
“Isn’t it beautiful” she asked of me
“Look up” I directed
As we both gazed up at the high rise
Which just then, in that moment that we stood there
Had turned a magical gold
We both realized and were inspired by the act of sharing
What a few words of kindness can do towards a better tomorrow
Listlessly dreaming of a flat open plane
A horizon so still that the sun never sets
Waiting for a turn in the road to break my concentration
Eyes turning beet red from the heat of the moment
Dry air beating against my parched eyes in an attempt to clear off the steam
Sick and twisted lines cross the illuminated barriers
Intelligence calls my own lines to be blurred
Solid as they are, drawn as they list-fully praise
Crawling on all fours they go, tail between their legs
I sit and wonder where the time has ever gone
With your gilded ears pressed against my beaten heart
I sing my song of dancing queens
Sailing away on the silhouetted light of a moonlit night
…and you know I’ve called this road before
…and you’ve cried these gifted diamonds once, long ago
My aim it used to have a thousand strings pulling
The light it used to shine straight ahead
Reaching my limbs for the true chapter of praise
…and now I’ve cut all regrets from the symphony
…and now I’ve let the only lover I’ve ever had know I shall never see her again
But there remains a life: lone
A desire so imprinted that the fashionistas remember the last dance
So harmonious with life that the weeds embrace entirely
…and now I’ve gone away forever
…and now there has left nothing, for forever shall remain everything
Perhaps it was the presence of time
That hurt me so much, as it crawled over my skin
Wallowing in the little holes
I had no knowledge existed
Perhaps it was the pressures of yesterday
That wounded my soul, as it kept coming back again
Infiltrating my every thought
I wasn’t aware of tomorrow
Perhaps it was the sun waking up early
That shook my foundation, sprinkling my morning with light
Contracting my pupils
I didn’t realize it moved me so
Perhaps it was the water flowing effortlessly
That put me into motion, alerting me of it’s omnipresence
Allowing me to flow with it
I didn’t realize I had any choice
Blown in with the leaves of time
Strewn out like paper discarded
Elapsed like the growing grass
But still there escapes no figurative talk
No lively-hood of lust that escapes the drivel
Onward and upward in a spiral inward
Left for the ransacking
Two lone bowls of fruit
Monotonous in content
But alive with desire in substance
And then the snow begins to fall
Pulling with it a breath of relief
Inward it seeks for that calming nerve
Do you remember me?
We would park down on the beach
Thinking about each others plans
Talking about us
Where we’re going in life
What our future would hold
How we believe in each other
Do you remember about Paris?
You said you would dress me in a bow
Walking hand in hand down the des Champs-Élysées
Our friends would call our names
In rich foreign accents as we passed them by
Waving casually, and going on our way
Do you think we’ll ever drive there?
Walking seems much more romantic
Then again, so does an old taxi
You in your furs and I in my bespoke
Your hair would have feathers in it
Your lace would come off black
Do you still get lost in your tea?
As you sit and stare at the leaves
Counting your black magic
Shifting your spells
Deciding when to clear the wallet
Of useless propaganda
Perhaps some day it will become old
Wrinkled from the time
But still just yesterday
How can the passage of time lend its ear to the wonton desires
Further to the earnest soldier standing erect in check
Should the immovable objects be challenged to a dual?
Pierced like a bird-song, early in the morrow
Camp not, restless soldier
Push forth while thy still has the power
Four long nights I’ve waited by this step
Imagining every passing breath to come at last
Nay, just the cruel cruel glow of thou moon
Shines down as if mine own third eye
Camp not, restless soldier
Push forth wile thy still has the power
Enslaved by the cruel witch of this story
Set in stone; too young to hurt, much too old to die so tragic
Living in fear has increased thou arc
Set deep inside thy soul of consciousnesses cloud
