It’s days like these
Rolled over, stuffed in
Left sleeping
With tired eyes
Lost on a distant horizon
A breath, heavy
Somewhere between asthma
And an eagle’s scream
Washed in the lapping ocean
And swept away
By the wind
Leaving heavy drops
Crawling down my cheek
And humming a slow song
That’re maybe
Just a little sad.
Butter me on Sunday
Split my hands upon the door,
Call the lady Monday
At a quarter after four.
Lunnegan Lunnegan Lunnegan Sat,
Place your bets here and I’ll make you a stack.
Gone is my friend, night after Tuesday.
Biscuits and rawhide are left in the mud.
Every missed Friday
Is a Wednesday fallen flat.
For opening the windows
Comes Thursday tru-ra-loo lore.
Could law we broke figuratively
Demand our justice?
Like clippings sealed in thick books
Observing penance,
Freely battling justifications
And counting down days until extinction.
A cold winter’s breath blows
While a dainty little pixie dances
Towards destruction’s edge.
Flirting with every step,
Every essence of being,
Until fluttering about in a daze;
Imploding into decay
I’ve unconditionally surrendered my old favorite sweater
It’s ok, I like her
But… there’s something about it
There’s a beat-up-rusty-truck memory
With worn seats – yellow foam surprises
You know, a once-was-navy-blue bench seat
Shift-knob-black that knows my sentimental touch
Caressing like I’ve driven her well
Like I’ve taken care not to drip gas-o-line
Checked the oil twice a month
And kept the tires at an even thirty five p-s-i
Perhaps the memories are shared with
These in-animate things
These pieces of fabric and steel-workers toil
That warm those chilling days
That don’t quite sit flush the whole way down
Letting familiar drafts rush up the back
Hands in my pocket
Perhaps this is why I smile when she’s wearing it
After all, it’s alright to let these things
Live a life of their own
To sit me down and coo in my ear
Hot chocolate and unconditional
Kind of love
Have you ever had one of those mornings
Where you wake up, fresh and ready to go?
Sun greeting you with a smile
Dog with a wag of his tail…
You know, one of those mornings
When the blender blends it all
Without even one single stir
And you remember to put the lime in
Like the feeling of putting on
A fresh pair of underwear
Pulling up the favorite pants
With a very white undershirt
Or like a great hair day
When looking in the mirror
Is simply compulsive
From all angles
It’s hard to find those mornings
But when you do
When it’s within your hands
Share it, and smile
Your delicate drops
That drip about my window
Waking my slumber
Shaking my cobwebs
Keep rhythm for me
My heart finds
Its speed again
While curious crawls
Across steaming
Bits of wooden jungle
Sun beckons
Warming exposed skin
Like uncurling leaves
Surviving off stray beams
Feathered fellows
Sing one another
Delightful passages
Freshly reciting
For days full of life
And you say to me
Goodmorning
I am tired
And these bags gathering
Under my eyes
Are growing their own
Attitude and regret
I’ve been sleeping little
In between dreams
Packing in time
I never could grasp
The days are slipping
On account of my drinking
Which erases the memories
Of days far gone now
Perhaps I could visit
Lost time again
With a flick of my wrist
A twist of my wit
A power to build me
My kingdom here yet
But then, would this cure me?
Would this let me rest?
Surely in madness
I’m loosing my faith
Sleep would be nice
As it touched my brow
Brought me forth
Delivered me with faith
I’d float through the scenes
Blissfully aware
Of the red roses here
Landing down lightly
On a little island of sand
Melting away desires
Melting away all plans
A sweet surrender
A happiness over me
A happiness is me
Stone me in a cobblestone square or
Sling me up amongst the berries and the winds
But don’t dare
In all my days
Pull from these wretched hands
Bloody and gnarled
The blessing of thought
Loud and true
That lead me to and fro
Now till ‘morrow
In unceasing desire
No, don’t you dare
Some days go by and they crawl up the wall
Seemingly scraping together time with broken memories
That pick at your wounds as you begin to fall asleep
Some days go by and drag their heels along the floor
Building up the tough skin that is disturbing to touch
Clearly letting go of all decency and elegance in a flash
Some days go by like the sun beating against a glass window
Heating up entire buildings from it’s mere affection
Darkening skin and inviting energy to be extrapolated
Some days go by as if showering was a rule
Fresh as the spring daisies that hide amongst a field of wheat grass
Stepping slightly quicker than the rest of the pack
Some days go by reminding me of mid winter’s frost
Sparkling brilliantly but very hard to look at with wide eyes
Usually requiring sunglasses to handle the glare
Some days go by and they run like the wind
Forgetting to stop for lunch and digging right in
Lost in the usual games but focused on one thought
Some days don’t ever end in spite all the killing
They make the butchers happy as they sharpen their knives
Slicing away the minutes, one by one
Cannot I lift you
With the words that I speak?
Cannot I hear you
With the ears that I append?
Cannot I see you
With the eyes that I focus?
Cannot I feel you
With the hands that I extend?
When will I know
About the weight of my words?
When will I learn
About the error in my ways?
When will I feel
About the lost lovers night?
When will I remember
About the battle of my days?