Shake the pistol at my mane
Lord help those who shame
For a gospel bell has struck gold
And the crowd is letting out.
Gone are the busy days
Lost into the wind and rain
Leaves have let down their shine
And blankets freezing again.
Sitting alone by the fire
Running down my back
Washed away my innocence
And now’s my closing song.
Slowly memory returned
Slowly tree grew
Slowly sun arc’d sky
Slowly memory returns
It is not darkness
Only frame of mind
Shares each step
Each rock of fire
Tempered wind at my back
Squint upon my face
Naturally forced upon
Slowly run on
Come along
Miss Razorblade
Feed a fire tonight
Sharpen all
Your wits and charm
Feed me unending fuel
For I cannot say
Cannot stay to long
Without a cause
Case and clue
On my lucky shoes
Does this mean I love you?
Do your choices reflect my state of being
Or do I reflect your changing heart?
Do I passively deflect your approaches
Or do I embrace your movement of my heart strings?
For in these silent hours beside the fire
I have learned I cannot change
The heart which has affected me
Upon each midnight frame.
So then, I remind myself,
I am to be leftover in
Each moment evermore;
A fan until the end of which
I cannot say out loud,
But only in my searching eyes
I see the answer again.
I go to bed late and forget to leave the evening candle burning
It sits beside my machete that waits for another attack
That ripped my great grandmother from her life
These Wild Men came, ignoring her fire
Her embers burned yet they stole with little regard
Fair play existed when hands were harder
When banks weren’t lawmakers
Lawless was irrelevant to those who upheld order
Gunslingers or good singers or Moonshiners all made their way
Through the land of hard work, good cooking, and square dances
And my machete sits sharp
Dancing around the fire she went
In a dress so burgundy
Hair so full of life of her
Smile so readily frequent.
Each turn she whispered as she spun
To the suitor in her hands:
“I wonder how long this can last,
They’re too romantically inclined presents.”
One a taller man who cared
A good deal for his car,
The other a light haired maiden who
Walked her two dogs every day.
Then as each spin spun her
Her thoughts then ran away
Into the arms of deepening night
Flames still there, unspent.
I’m running around with two lines, and I dont know how to die
My fierce warrior yells at me, reminds me: YOU ARE THE SKY
And hello in there, hello in there
Hello I am the wind
Beating down upon the night
As cold sets in
Then all at once
My faint whisper of hope; candle
Flickers, sputters, wavers, jumps
Then beats onward, my fire.
Freezing again
Sun down
Dogs bark all night
Fire takes a bit
Of bite off my hands
Still, there exists
Frost upon my breath
Stars out
Big Dipper shines
Tonight shall rest
Wind dies down again.
I dream of an apple that comes in many varieties
One so diverse it can only be spoken in gutteral movements
So loud it can hardly be swallowed
And so vivacious that even the clowns turn their heads and stare
And when this apple has come to life
A bounty shall follow freely
Where all that’s needed will carry forth
Fruitful seed in spring rains cracking
Momentum in earth so rich;
Deep into heart of gold forever fills the pallette
Like a warm cider by the fire
And my season of the sun well spent.
I crafted you in the ocean
Setting fire to the sea
I melded this old moon
Into skykines bursting seams
Foaming at each gust of wind
I spat my mirthy glow
Right down, upon the earth
Down with you I lay low.