Songs for the Road

Standing on a hill of green
And I stand alone.
No people
No Trees,
No Rivers, Lakes
No clouds in the sky.

I am a nowhere man
For today.
I am not sure how to feel
Or what I am supposed to think
About the day
The nights
The coming weeks and months

Thought I would stand steady
But I thought I saw Feeling arrive over the distant hill.
Must have been my imagination.

—

The streets of Baton Rouge
The dark swamps of a Louisiana College are lit by dim road lamps under the white moon high above the clouds.

Illuminated.
Reflected in a black lake.
Smoke rises from above distant trees.
As I pick up the faintest smell of cooking shrimp.

An occasional car drives down to light the road
Before leaving it once more in darkness.
Lit only by the flame in the aging lanterns
Standing guard before the silent white Southern mansion.

—

Oh glorious, beautiful, wondrous Austin.
I don’t want to sleep with you, beautiful girl.
I don’t need to talk to you
Engage you in any way.
I don’t wish to impress you.
I don’t even need you to notice me.
Though that may be nice.
No, no.
All I wish to do is gaze upon you.
All I feel I need to do is look at you.
I just want to admire you.
You are beautiful.
A true testament to God’s brilliance.
To His wonderful art.
How magnificent the potential of human beauty.
My, oh my.
Walk along pretty lady
Walk along, dear street Queen.
Walk along and smile embracing the desert dawn,
For us all.
Walk along and sing the desert song.

—

Sitting in a motel
In Roswell, New Mexico
And the winds ready to blow the whole city away
The sky glimmers in distant darkness
The stars gleaming, spread across the violet sky.
And the wind
It tumbles all remains of desert tumbleweed
As the people sleep behind locked doors
In Roswell
New Mexico
As the spirits of outer space begin their masquearde
And slowly lie upon the streets like an ominous, beautiful fog
I dream of Roswell.
My friend. My mystery.
I bask in its shadows and mystery.
I sing its praises.
I dream of Roswell, New Mexico.

—

Goodnight America.
Go to sleep now sweet prince
I’m leaving you to your dreams
I’m leaving to go chase the sun.
I gazed through the holy sepulcher
And witnessed the white moon
In a sky of deepening dark blue
Barely hidden through the thick of the silent clouds
Over the southwestern red desert.
Two riders are approaching now.
Goodnight America.

—

I went to sleep
Awoke in a dream
A DAZE IN THE CANYONS

I walked along the desert sea
I saw the mountains as mere shadows in the distance
The wind blew sand in massive clouds
That rolled along the massive expanse of the Mojave
The ghosts of Indian battles echoed in the desert
I came upon the city of Angels
Which awaited me behind the curtains of heaven
As I sped down the mountain canyons
Spiraling down toward the Pacific coast..
“I rode the snake with his skin clinging cold.”

—

You smile at me man and I ain’t got no time.
I walked in a dream long long ago
But now I see the truth past your smile.
Time’s growing thin
And I feel space around me closing in
Its my last chance for the ticket to the sky
The ground shakes around me, and the fire begins to rise
Take me on a train past the last whimsy night
I’m losing touch and can’t pick up the slightest sound
And the more I try, the more I sweat, and I go further and further down into the ground.

Wheels a rollin’.
It’s rollin’ far away now and it’s draggin’ away my soul.
It’s gonna leave me standing and a-trembling, chest with a rotting hole.
Frustration and self-loathing
They’re a killer when you ain’t got no one to hold ya
Lots o people talkin’, and I just find myself walkin
Thinking and a-mumbling to myself

I write down verses and I come up with notes
But now I’m caught up in petty rhyme and melodies
I’ve lost the rhythm and I’ve lost my soul
It’s taken leave and left me standing grey, feelin’ old.
And I stand on this cliff before the crashing waves
And I thought I saw the glimmer of a sinking dream
I’ll go wander away in the street corner caves
And live the rest of days sleeping amongst the city steam.

—

Dark Savage Streets in the city of night as the sound of jazz echoes through my brain with the rising steam of the underground speedtrain.

I walked along the starry sidewalks in the cool California evening and stood across the Chinese Theatre, its courtyard absent of street peddlers and tourists. It stood alone, like me. And so here we stood facing one another. Myself, a young man admiring an ancient relic of American glory, art and spectacle; Gable and Bogart. I smiled wide and continued on my way.

—

-Quinn