I sing this song to better me
To give away my peace
I sing this song of strength
To let it flow away
I sing this song of a righteous path
That gathers all the steam
I sing this song louder yet
To reach the ears of vain
I sing this song to overflow
The basins at each fountain
I sing this song of eternal youth
To keep our vigor strong
I sing this song out to you
For it is me who needs it most.
Tag: fountain
Climb that Mountain (day 1944)
Ahoy, good friends! Tis’ I come home
From a land I loved, I must say
Far off, quite far, several days
Generous fellows called it Rome
With marvelous peaks and glorious domes!
But with every step, the whole way
So many places I just could not stay
Something missing I was never shown.
Then one day who did I see?!
A friend I’d lost, nearly forgot
Lost in thought in a bubbling fountain
For me was worth bounds of glee
For all at once came a quite clear thought
Go home, remember, and climb that mountain.
Dusty Boulders (day 1857)
Take this blood and run it along an irregular line from here to there, for there is no longer a fountain of youth screaming for more sticks and balls; left for dead there is only a pulse of electricity surging away into a stream of monotony.
But where does each screaming echo fall?
Twisting it’s way through sandstone crevices along a dried river basin, footsteps led aimlessly uphill in search of a higher plateau that might offer a view of the future, or lead to a three feet wide round door of periscope and a three strands of hemp rope holding a dangling sign that read: “Welcome. Please come in.”
If all was lost, there would be no now, for now is not lost as a pinch can accost.
While large maple leaves unfurled to beckon in the Summer, a slow and sweet amulet of sweat rested nicely between the bosom of naked pixie, casually watching the dried river splash over dusty boulders.
Traces (day 1581)
Stunning,
So I didn’t walk home alone.
A long song
To which I moved along.
Movement was the story I wrote
With my fountain tipped pen
Of legs
Of limbs
Of your traces left upon my skin.
Counterpose (day 1468)
I’m scared to understand,
Letting ideas ride deep
Into sleepless nights
And I wonder what ifs.
I don’t let wizards
Paint my low brow dark,
I keep satin stains
Along smirk marks of my face.
I crawl into your yellow marks,
Finishing a day old cigarette
That tastes sour
And makes me upset again.
Counterpose my excellence
Awkwardly adjacent
To a sprinkling good luck,
Nickel and dime water fountain.
I’m going back underground.
Downhill (day 1260)
Sweating with a heavy breath
From the hill I had just climbed,
I circled the fourtyfive spouted fountain
Spitting mist like Niagara Falls
On my bicycle gliding silently
To observe, round and round as I went,
I was watched by more than just sweet little birds.
For, at every post there was a valiant sentinel
Eying me as I passed,
Who saluted on the hour every hour
To lords I had never met,
Captains of yesterday
Whose presence was lingering
In the shiny shackles about their vests.
And in my ignorance I sped away,
For my whole route,
From whence I had just come,
Was downhill the whole way!
Speedy Descent (day 442)
Perhaps then they would call my name
As I sat there above the clouded peaks
Awaiting the answer to the question
Begging my return
Begging the sweet angels rising up
To hold my hands in speedy descent
But like any searching soul
The answer proves within
No clouds can clutter the footpath
No unruly goat-beast can charge me
From this high scraping crag
Legs and arms holding me fast
Then Zeus, lighting bolts striking close
Leaves in his wake a sharp message
The answer cursing through my veins
No escape now from the brutal truth
No silk crested nymph to calm thy nerves
Returning to the fountain I call
There, and only there, lurches forth tremors
Sent from the deathly legions
Calling spoils to all things left touched
Rotting corpses and swarming flies
Wrenching the senses limp
Twisting and writhing: no escape
Years upon years
And only then in shame
Shall the torment stop
At once its halt
Will leave you dry
Endlessly searching like I once