Green, yellow, brown
It was not my claim,
Not could it ever have been
To be lost with controlled madness
On a motorcycle
Going fifty kilometers per hour.
The roads were too dusty,
Too quiet for forgiveness
To be called out
In a manner that did not support
Each dying ember of humanity.
And the glasses were of the new world,
A signal for misunderstanding
– Modern mythological errors
Combed with a brush of the future.
I merely sat there,
I did not dust off the seat
I did not wear deceiving clothes
I did not paint my hair black
Or red or green or blue,
And my wings ever grew
Until I no longer sat alone
Accompanied by history untold
That whispered flickers
Of a language with no words
To my clouded eyes
I dream often of the love we once shared
Often we’re walking down the steps
To the Sea, to the sand and wind
Where we shared lunch so fondly together.
I dream of silly conversation in a rented car
Where you showed me the house
You were raised in
Next to the old school house you played in.
I think of the way your hair came down,
The blues of your eyes as they stared into mine
Sitting in your old but geand chair,
I can only imagine you were wondering what I had planned.
We’d walk through the graveyard with your dog
That quickly adopted me
A walk I enjoyed finding names I had never known of.
It was here that the ghosts came to me,
Black top hats and leather soled shoes
That met us, dignified with a long fur coat
Set to ward off the coming fall colours.
I dreamed here, even then,
Moreso than I do now.
I hurt then moreso than I do now,
But the sorrow is still inside
When I remember what had been
And what, in my foolishness,
Let fall softly away like the shirt I never saw you wear.
The sun has taken to settling out my madness
I couldn’t see the light here for a while
When I looked for each new day
A black crow came by to have a say
When I knew I wouldn’t be seeing you again
There was a memory tuned to another song
It swept like daisies in an open field
Call me when you wash away
Everything we ever tried to say
Then it won’t be so hard to take my straight design
I am ready to work here for my little means
What can I say? I think I’m getting old
Haven’t seen a city wall
Since I hurried on my way
A rush important I still cannot feel the same
I look for you in everything
With or without wine
I can see pointed toes
Within black socks
Pulled up to the middle of your calf
And black hair
That I’ve never been able
To reach out and touch.
No heartbeat says maybe
More than your eyes
Can reach into mine,
Yet laughter didn’t mean
What I had hoped
As I sat up late
With my loneliness.
So twist away,
Reach out with flexed fingertips
Where I don’t belong,
And allow me to linger here
To sort out my other side
The smile that set me free.
So at last our North Sea Queen
Had her legions taught and adept,
Lamenting heard from shore
Where the abandonned had gathered
Bow of the vessel was pointed – of course – due north
To icy depths the legion were bound.
Back and forth the North Sea Queen strolled
Eyeing her crew to weed out the weak
As if it were still needed
To strike fear into her warriors.
They had been trained and hardened
Against the coldest of stones
Heartless and dedicated and ruthless and cruel
And each one full willing to bend at request.
She dressed in pure blackness
A sign of her coldness
Around her neck was wrapped ten strands of silk
That had come from the deadly
In an act of submission,
Her boots were thigh high
Of dear Spanish leather
Stained by the hands of those who’d defied her,
Her coat long and dark that swept to the floor
Beneath she wore – dramatically expected –
A gown of black lace.
So it was the ship creaked and groaned
Under the weight of a legion’s strain
Bound by blood to following orders
With the North Sea blowing with fury
Home again, home again, row row row.