| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 7:11:45 AM | ohmmm ohmmm oh bee bop a lulu she's my baby
shakti shakti and I don't mean maybe
Jagaro deva he's my guy
Golden slumbers sing a lullaby
picture yourself on a boat on a river
bang sha la la Indian giver
um you wanna rain dance with me in the slipstream
boom boom she wa wa it's all in a dream
If I fell in love with you would you promise
touch me in my wounds relieve your doubting Thomas
she wop she la la scat man do
what would you do if I sang this to you
hey you wanna moondance ...paper taxis on the shore
waiting to take the princess to the ball once more
be bop she la la I'm looking for my way
take away my troubles left behind in yesterday
The prince has found my slipper Ruby Tuesday take me home
dancing on the milky way across a sea of foam
sliding past soliloquies we burn the midnight flame
I know you from forever still remembering your name | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 11:27:44 AM | I know you from forever still remembering your name
with broken letters but it still sounds the same
like when that bird sang from high on a limb
Jim was smoking something just for a whim
then passing the pipe to his pal on the left
who then sucked it back with baited breath
waiting for that moment to spit it all out
with politics and grammer scattered about
I laughed at the shaking little leaf on a branch
it was like a hulla dancer without any pants
taking a chance in the lifeguard's chair
posing and smiling while tossing her hair
So with nothing to say from the left side of life
I collected my posessions but left the dull knife
for what could it do but make a raw slash
not clean or efficient and it wasn't worth any cash
now the stash that we used was gone in a flash
with a puff of smoke blurring the dash
no more tunes and no more hash
I guess its time to put that in the past | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 11:44:57 AM | I guess its time to put that in the past
as transport truckers run right out of gas
oranges by the dozen run juice on the street
never say never nor admit your defeat
Close down the last factory making new shoes
saving our soles on the six oclock news
we'll wander barefoot raking for coals
begging for rice with crystal alms bowls
politicians and preachers vie for a place
atop the new soapboxes heading to space
But Mars is not ready we're too far behind
saving the dna of the hopelessly blind
frozen existence in desperation straights
spin medicine wheels and examine our fates
Run to the east and proclaim a new start
holding the wreckage of the last human heart
wander in innocence children with intent
ripping the wings off the angels hell bent
making a living from death we enslave
pay back the earth with the lives that we save | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 11:52:31 AM | I guess its time to put that in the past.
Like the lunches you packed in brown bags
the napkins inside around paper surprises
drawn by you before the sun came up
and you went to work before the house
turned on it lights and stretched itself thin over
the six of us jolted by clanging bells and
radio newscasts and sometimes the barking neighbor
who rolled over and played dead on Mondays
after beer weekends and football fantasies
you made for him at halftime when he
switched the beer for bourbon in the alley between houses
you used to keep clean with an over-sized broom
mother always made fun of but loved
because of the way you danced it like Elvis
and road it with fangs, cackling warlock-like
long after Halloween but before that avalanche
the one that paralyzed you in overalls slick
with grease from the cars and comfortable
from being familiar so early every morning
after packing our lunches and leaving to
"get to the day on time" you used to say
and i wonder what if that day the mustard jar had been
empty or your overalls out of place
or the neighbor needing help back inside or
the clanging clocks all broken or maybe for just one minute
you stopped to look at the eastern sky
one fleeting moment that kept the traffic from
meeting you head-on while you were
"getting the day on time"
giving me something to take into this poem
that is time to be put in the past. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 1:14:24 PM | That is time to be put in the past
Amidst the brick and brack of days gone by
Of things said and done yet best left forgotten
Dusted off only in moments of weakness
When rain clouds loom ominously overhead
Threatening a deluge of reticent regret
For things left undone unfinished or unsaid
Nothing more than a reminder of what might have been
Had we chosen differently at the cross roads behind us
Had we done what our heart told us to do
Rather than what our head told us was right at the time
Such is a time to be put in the past
As we look forward to the potential of another new day | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 1:19:19 PM | As we look forward to the potential of another new day
clocks are ticking backwards and the rains are reigning grey
kings and queens of butterflies have morphed a new retreat
buckle up the ride's begun awoken from your sleep
cocooned amidst the platitudes delusional delight
waking from a sleeping dream where everything's alright
wondering how we got here it's not too far to see
looking through the seeing glass at all life's history
we witness change in seasons but the patterns stay the same
Rome is Rome by any means or any other name
conquer all the way she goes we blow on through the west
practicing a new belief where we all try our best. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 6:39:37 PM | Practicing a new belief where we all try our best.
talking out the other side of their mouth
while they prance and thump on their chest
Flexing their muscles, the girls to impress
I'll just belly up to the bar, and not be a pest
 | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/2/2008 8:35:56 PM | I'll just belly up to the bar and not be a pest
Everyone there's chillin' too
and we've got handcuffs for the rest
Cried enough and tried enough
to count for the whole darned crowd
Got sympathy for all of 'em
'cept the one that's WAY too loud
He better be glad it's Miller Lite in my hand
and not a fifth of my buddy Patron
For more often than not
If it's tequilla I've got
I'd tell him bout hisself and his song
When tequilla and me set out for the night
I gotta be sure that the company's good
for I forget that I'm sweet-ish, remember I'm Irish
and act alot more mean than I should. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/3/2008 4:40:28 AM | and act a lot more mean than i should
but sometimes that's just the way i am
when i'm not feeling the flow
and am trapped within my
head
i say the things that come to mind
with not much thought
throw in the booze
and i'll lose
every time i get caught | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/3/2008 4:51:21 AM | Every time I get caught
it is like a light going out
Lost in sight, blind to shout,
the shadow of endeavour once more
An entangled force,
as if wind in a hurricane.
The vacuum of surrender,
silence as if cold and lingering.
Undivided, split in comparison,
was right wrong, or left an entanglement.
Twisted and burned, lost and not endowed,
such was an emotion, some might know as love.
Caught in her heart, caught in a soul,
drunk, but not with alcohol upon my breath.
Every time, but not always in truth,
a bleeding heart where blood does not flow. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/3/2008 2:40:35 PM | a bleeding heart where blood does not flow
prettier than a rose without any thorns
I'm reading of some noxious organism to grow
pity her late husband who she forgot to warn
look but don't touch is a good way to be
don't taste is better when much comes free
book in advance for that good seat to see
won't waste as much time when its up in a tree
smoke on the water from a fire in the sky
beating the bass oh so heavy
twisting and shouting when smoke gets in your eyes
repeating grace when your ready
so much has been said and done in the past
it all goes by like one that can't last
the tongue of the serpant is forked that is true
don't you know that he's trying to smell you | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/3/2008 5:37:52 PM | trying to smell
you fork up tongue
slip it out
where skinny dust trails rattle on
then hissss
--amongst all things that are clearly
a warning : it is the hsssssss from out
the tall dry lean
summers grass
that gives rise
to nightfalls' cast
of mourning | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/3/2008 10:09:48 PM | of mourning
let us have just enough
of weeping
a measured dose
of remembering
all we can carry
of joy
barrowfuls to distribute
of laughter
how to contain laughter? | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/3/2008 10:29:33 PM | to contain laughter
I look in the mirror
and set my sights on
highbeam UPS delivery
to navigate the slightly
squiggled
wiggley laugh lines
crows feet and oddities
that arise overnight
then I gurgle and
gargle
and I spurt out
loud as a spigot
"pppsshhhiieetttt"
all over the glass
head over to the
make-up cabinet
and say "sorry"
to my dumb ass
LOL
| |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/4/2008 8:14:15 PM | to my dumb ass
applause for what it has sat through
to my jelly belly
respect for laugh-shaking longer than I do
to my drooping boobs
honour for your nurturing
may you all
enjoy a long and fruitful life | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/5/2008 8:12:44 AM | enjoy a long and fruitful life
Stay out of the dumpster
the uninitiated may suffer
a painful fruit fly bite
and be scarred for life | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/5/2008 1:54:22 PM | "scarred for life"
tat that
in brail
on my sisters hair
to remind her
of what it feels like
to come across
a lions lair
make it feel like the shoreline
of paradise lost
where the peach pies still steam
and the clouds drip with mounds of pastel cream
--lattice-lingo is still effable between crustacean dreams
deep green pools and jelly fish are coherent
ink blots that have brushed against
a star studded crimson
screen | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/5/2008 3:06:22 PM | ink blots that have brushed against
a star studded crimson screen
blood drying in between
souls dying, unseen
in the wilderness of mass creation.
Mind masturbation's memory fix
we get our kicks in payback
and heart attack.
Thrill seeker
double talk speaker
we listen closely to your lies
and decide which ones to abide
by.
Try
to see it with your true mind
in clouds and tree rings
dream echo's running through archetype
Greek dancers tell stories that reverberate
through time.
smoke signals climb
past all awareness and into now.
That's how
we know.
Waking into life where switches do not light the room
a sonic boom
heard by all announced the fall
as we retreated
and Wallmart superseded
the Queen Mother's throne.
Do we condone
the lives of Monks united in fire?
People stand in their desire
for peace.
Souls release.
England knew it went wrong
somewhere back in Hong Kong
Same story repeats , in the subtle defeats,
Pay attention, Those who see
when the dogs lay down the cards and trump history. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/5/2008 4:40:47 PM | Trump history
Ivana mystery
anything for a buck
who need luck
or a pickup truck with four wheel drive
when we are alive on TV
for everyone to see
under that rug
the bugs that twist and turn
a brain that constantly yearns
For more more more
Until that door closes for good
leaving us wasted in a chair
glad that we have our own hair
and don't really care about some hotel wizard
lost in a social blizzard with false friends | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/5/2008 8:09:03 PM | lost within social blizzard context falsehood friends
gender nonspecific for words are generic creations
one mind,one thought written into silloette's upon this screen
We collective exasperate
at best we write thoughts foresle We be
Silent | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/5/2008 8:32:26 PM | Silent
as Christmas
Is night wishing
Deep well wishing
Winds
Settled
Contained
Being drained drip
By drip
Softly
Dropping
......................................................................................................................silence
Sheilding
Inquiring minds
and ill concieved plot
Lines
Developing
Drinking
Designing
Drain | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/6/2008 7:01:11 AM | Drain...
will to survive
stay alive
with pain.
Hearts dashed on the shoals of rough passage crossed
Confidence lost
faith to renew
run askew
into timeless portals deep
where fears and doubts keep
resurfacing into reality
and the full totality
of hope, is lost.
At what cost
do we try again to believe
retrieve
our dreams of love and joy
and sing out loud, deploy
our hidden resources
sources
of resilience
and dance
to a different song?
We all belong
to Love’s refrain
and love is well worth trying again. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/6/2008 3:12:10 PM | And love is well worth trying again,
so songs will say it's true;
no one knows just where or when,
but when it comes, it's due.
Forever is too far to see,
too far for blinded eyes.
Today is my reality,
and so I'm called unwise.
Unwise, I often fail to see
which love is proffered here;
if love and gifted so for free
then love did sure appear.
But if the trying, crying game
reveals a wicked heart,
then all of love's a crying shame
and rips the soul apart.
So some will play and some will stay
and some get torn apart,
but God knows if I'd had my way
I'd have heard no call to start.
But start I did and so I hid
(for I know all the game)
and wicked I would have me rid
and still be found the same. | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/6/2008 4:06:11 PM | still be found the same
engrained in memory
like a walk in the rain
detained by the seminary
only enlistment will stop
drops of blood pooling around the crop
planted not to grow tall
reeped small by all who call this place home
the alone on foot destined to roam
aimless yet precise
taking no advice
as the rain continues to fall | |
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| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 5/6/2008 4:07:22 PM | and still be found the same
the total essence of me
although i constantly change
i'll be what i'll be...
life is such a trip
i'll never figure out
such a journey it is
to live without a doubt... | |
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