I wandered in my disarray
How could it be?
Out of the clear madness
Did I stumble upon a seed
That racked my brain
Tormented my soul
Callused all my pain
And sent me on my merry way
Life but now so plain.
Without eyes passing vision
How speaks the mind to soul
Flapping lips and no one cares
Passing judgement uninformed
Mind is lost
Vote for me
Life without a leader
In every spotlight searching
Calmly walk the gangway
Calmly herd a memory
So that digital flips
A madness uninvented.
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
As molten streets
Each callused leader
With Sir Devil.
Inspired construction workers
To a fury,
That led each
To a foghorn;
On auction day.
Without much notice
Necks were bled and drained
Into a drain
Flushed away with rain.
And then began
– Recycled plan
No change, all the same
Nothing to excite
Not a note to cause alarm –
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 don’t want to hold onto this enormous feeling.
A Skeptic once said the past isn’t present,
So let us believe that a fullness isn’t real
(A limit we reach where we can no longer give, share, believe),
Let this feeling take us on a tenderness stroll
Like sheer cotton shading giant pillows we lounge upon,
Meandering through ancient streets and wild forests
Where we stop at every third park bench we pass
To sit closely and pretend we’re still consciously speaking
In syllables that reason can understand and explain,
For to me your words speak in gestures only my ears
– And perhaps the dear sweet Cupid who so cleverly pinned us –
Can fully grasp at, mingled so heavily with vibrant lips
My eyes cannot escape being entranced by,
And breath mine hairs can feel so warmly upon
With your gentle yet firm fingers ever so delicately
Squeezing a new pattern into mine palm of eternity.
I want to hold onto you, the back of your neck with softest of curls
As our lips mean to share what we’ve intoned of a feeling,
Forgetting for brief moments our shooting star madness
And living a while longer by the bane of our senses.