But if I never held your hand
How would I know your touch?
But if I never spoke your name
How would I call you to me?
But if I never smelled your essence
How would I find my memories?
But if I never whispered lightly
How would I hear you call?
But if I never watched the sunset
How would I dream of you at night?
But if we never gazed afar
How would we ever smile together?
But if we never danced to slow songs
How would we spend our days?
Don’t throw away my misery as if I’ve been kindly handling your manner for years
Respect it and covet it like a well worn lawn mower, hardly spewing black smoke
And dance around it with spears and face paint while chanting god-speek
Because if you, for one single moment, think the moon will set before the deed is done
Then you’re sadly mistaken, sadly believing in mystics and chimera
Barking at the moon fully loaded for bear with a hand down your trousers
While the children of the night roll around at your feet, stretching for answers
Into the pale night skies pockmark’d rivers of darkness
Don’t let me be, standing here against the cold wall of ancient growth alone and heavily breathing
Listening for forgotten sounds to ring alert, echoing in the night
A calming sensation growing up through my spine as anxious boils over into my thoughts
When the dagger begins to sink into it’s last goodbye
And I the wild wonderer
In peace’s embrace
Sharing splendid solitude
With sunset’s hues
Tickling my toes
With warm lapping water
Pants then be rolled up
To half mast thy knee
And off in the distance
Summer night noises ring out
Young men of mischief
Swamp frogs lament
Bat fluttering hither
Mosquitoes racing thither
And across the calm lake
In desperate moments of light
The last mooring boat
Settles in for the night
Campfire left smouldering
In the wake of many (hot)dogs
And I, toes now dripping
Make my way to slumbers edge
Do not take your hands from the steering wheel and let it drift into unkept edges of city streets.
Make haste! Make speed, good man! Towards dotted lines of hope we must spare no time in pursuing!
But, mind your thoughts as you swerve here and there. Remember precious and delicate matters at hand.
Remember the gambling stone that sits atop at lookout point; sunsets and cityscapes that sweep the horizon so.
Can it mean it is so? Can the limits thrive against the collapsing opportunities of hope thrusting inside my veins?
I should think as you call out my name and shatter my silence that even in the darkest of hours hope should be flung.
Despise my bated breath as non-committal silence that burns down the doors of unturned and untrue thought.
I am a so-called warrior. I am a fenced in guardian. I am a dotted line on the roads to freedom.
I am an invisible sanctity on the lonely island of hope hidden far away from human consumption.
A straightened arrow in the land of many signs, sugar coating fantasy with bikinis and high rise-high cut jean shorts.
Count down my passions as we speed into the night; top down and music shedding our inhibitions like a Friday night shakedown.
I’m a walking cause
A symptom without diagnosis
An affliction
An avoidable situation
I’ve got a heartbeat
Pure intentions
A rambling rose
With nobody to hold
I’ve got a tender touch
Late at night by campfire light
Life in burning eyes
With splinter clutches
I’m a justification
A resolution
Breaking the good/bad
Souring the miscomfort
I’ve got footsteps
Leading away from me
Large strides and
Slight pigeon toed prints
I’m a walking cause
A symptom without diagnosis
An affliction
An avoidable situation
I name off the past Prime Ministers of Canada
As I vigorously make love to you in the night
This helps me accept the fact that
I’ll be slipping with my consciousness soon
Lapsing into a nether region where
Hawks and eagles walk among men
Tipping their hats in respect for animals while
Dining on fine wine and inhaling Cuban cigars
It’s not that I don’t enjoy our time together
Or that my nether regions don’t explode with furious passion
In the presence of your captivating demeanor
Sensuous curves and inviting aroma
I quite like it actually, appealing to all my senses
I just like to dream of Fantasia
Land so vividly different to familiar Earth
A dreamscape of my own devices
Rhythmically naming the past Prime Ministers
And rattling the headboard of your mothers bed chamber
If I were to stumble
Leaving days breath behind
If I were to turn
Sheltered from darkness
If my head were to fall
Eyes wet with pain
What would you do
As our hearts broke together?
If I left no trace
Walking through history
If I whispered on
In distant memories once dreamt
If I shifted sleepily
In a bed once shared
What would you do
As pages pulled at your heart?
If gifts lay dusty
Upon lonely night stands
If smells lingered on
In shirts worn well
If keys clicked no more
For letters of amour
What would you do
As time trickled on?
Snapping frustrations and beetle bug-off-alis
I’ve come to the end of my rope!
I’ve chewed all these trees
And felled a great home
Just to lose it all to a mouse!
The Mrs can’t stand it
Won’t sleep for a wink
With that vermin’s scratching work at night
Start over again?!?
This ones gone on so well!
I’ve even built us two tiny windows!
The Mrs, you know ladies
Loves the window for sunsets…
Front door’s been painted
Kitchen’s been reno’d
My shed! Five years, it’s nearly complete!
Oh, I’ll get that there mouse
I’ll find him at last
Even if it takes me straight to the grave
Mr. Figglehorns can be purchased here.
Fucking bloated imperfections
Passing tulips and roses out to guests
Inviting homeless inside
For a warm nights sleep and
Steam to wash away stains
Push on me; your aspirations
Dance with this wallflower
This undernourished lover
Through the night and
Along sleeping streets
Blunt under our breath that
Pissed away the night
Live away sadness in
Drugs that float lightly
Betwixt passages of your brain
Lovers mingling in ecstasy
While bloating subsides
Listen locked up troubadour
I’ve had just about enough from you
Flat tones with hardly any decibel
What part of the unwritten story
Didn’t you read?
Weren’t you just a little bit stunned
When the little Draculas
Began roaming these cliffs
On the cold nights
The windy nights
Where out in the distances
Witches are heard
Cooking up their recipe
Madness with glee
Forever is the preciousness
Longing is the game
Put forth a valiant effort
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Troubadours and lab technicians
All united; a singular cause
Pulled into the parking lot
Brushed away the wild sea
Battled the neckerswaps
And unscrewed the top
Crossed the great yellow barrier
By walking in through that door
The market was ahead of them
It awaited there lovely wallets
Where they stared in all it’s preciousness
In glitter and in shine
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Pulling away from the parking lots
Mad hatters and tea sets
Blinded by ammunition
The Troubadour and his silent friend
Set out for sea
Bleeding through darkness
Into night
Peddling for fire starter
Drinking whiskey for the cold
Laughing at all glorious things
As wheels of giant steel spun
You shall not run like thee
You see
Past moons and past reefs
The cold sea lay in splashing
Madness settled over mortals
Hell welcomed in
Demons and rat infested decks
Lay crawling amongst eyes of stranded
Bitterly washing away stains
Laid down by the blood of another man
Coveting distant targets
Booty unheard of, unfound
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Reaching the distant lands
With the devil at their backs
Reeling from sheer horror
Exotic bazaars and neon lights
Collector man watched his pray
As the Troubadour and his friends
Circled the shore
Marching two by two
Their prize lay in the hands of a king
Bloodshed played over widowers
Death lay the victim asleep
Washed over with a thin black veil
With a light shower of diamonds
The King was laid below
And you shall not run like thee
For thee has run too long
Over distant mountain tops
Into far off valleys
Soaring across blue skies
Crumbling foreign castles to their demise
Fair haired spoils
Fruits of hard labour
You see
You shall not run like thee
Black masks and pony tales
Sidekicks and sport goggles
Ripped jeans and too good hats
Curly hair and bending knees
Diamonds in these eyes you see
It is over for you thin man
I see you standing there
Troubadour in your madness
You shall not run like thee