poetry

Song for Friendship in the Dungeons of Babylon

When I saw the eyes of a faithful friend
Welcoming over the fire,
I saw the warmth of human heaven
Arrive to me, long desired.

And it was through treacherous rain and deep ravines
that I clung true to the sight;
When I slept amongst wolves and fiends,
My lost friends, these children of the night.

I called them goblins and I called them ghosts,
And they see into your eyes.
That they were, but the holy host,
To the love that you shall one day find.

I was a stranger; a cadet, yet battle worn
Looking long for a life anew.
Yet it was amongst enemies that I laid down my sword,
When with the gesture returned, they’d gone away, and I followed you.

—-

Warm Company

The afternoon counter he stands behind,
The baker awaits the seven days’ chimes.
He’s reminded of beauty, smiling through a long life.
And to blue skies he stands to rise,
With tears of joy, which stream from his eyes.

He’s an Englishman, born in the West End, he says.
“Like to go back again, but LA’s my home, and when I’s lost it took me in.”
“Into the home of the good people I’d met.”
“Been blessed,” he says. “Used to sleep in an Oldsmobile, but they put a roof o’er my head.”

“Today’s Palm Sunday,” I hear a patron say.
“I went to church when I was a boy,” says the Englishman.
“I never went,” says I.
He says he’s got sour memories.
“No perhaps it was not for me,” and he stares and he breathes and he says “but I believe.”
And the sun sits majestic and penetrating,
Through the glass in soft afternoon beams;
And it lights the Sunday scene,
Made sacred by good friends and warm company.

—-

Welcome Home

It was some kind of Christmas. 2012 a hell of a year.
I can see the beast majestic in the old desert storm
and I look upon my own hands,
remembering how I stood on the hilltop awaiting the revolution.
I approach the dust storm with my speed increasing,
as it widens over the first spring dune.
There is no divine solution.
No. There is only the divine.

–

And once they said rock and roll was dead. Try and kill an attitude, a spirit born when America was born. It lives.

This was supposed to be our final year. Yet on this day, even Chuck Berry still lives. We are all alive.

–

Eat Life. Never stop moving. Never stop seeing. Feel. And “when in doubt…fuck.”

—-

Portland, Goodbye for Now

And so the last night brings me back to Pioneer
In the fiercest rain, amidst old friends
And to the fine people of Portland, Goodnight.
Oh, fair city. Not that you need it.

—-

Morning Star Cafe

Might it be time to leave the Morning Star?
Might it be time to leave your sweet beauty?
Outside this place, awaits the day;
And the rolling thunder, the falling rain
Lays grace upon thee, far and away
But it is not for me.

I have this morning but dawn is but an instant.
I see the sun and soon the mist shall not be with me.
I know what stands ’round the brick corner ,
When the sun rises tall over a walking loner.
Three hours past, and I might feel older,
Life comes at you fast.

The Night! The Night! Will you be mine tonight?
The Night! The Night! So black and dark, will you be my light?
Smiling stars, oh wise and looming moon,
Overcome the afternoon.
Once more become the host.
Sing your eternal croon,
Faithful friend, and Holy Ghost.

—-

Stella and Skyway Trains

Where the winds dance so fierce and passerby enchant,
Where the dreams lie low, steered, beneath the dim lit street lamps,
I stand wide-eyed and smiling, though frozen cold and standing alone.
This is a city, though never singing, so wise so old, for San Francisco.

Where sad-eyed dogs they trot, and children remain away from rolling rain,
Where lovers stare into eachother’s eyes, beneath some Italian melodic plain,
I reach inside and into the fire, and I offer up a rose,
They stand with grace and never tire, they break me in their row.

We’ve but a night, you and I, to howl to the moon.
The fog will fade and the wind shall ride when daylight comes so soon.
So if you feel the sun, if you hear its echoing chime,
Look to me and take my hand, in our eyes we’ll live a lifetime.

Where the sun strides into the sky, where trains resume an unending climb,
Though rain shall always fall somewhere, we had a night, you and I.
Somewhere it lies, in every night sky, while waiting love shall come and go,
It shines on high, for you and for I, for this city, San Francisco.

—-

Songs for the Outskirts of My City

I

I lament for the dying cigarette,
Breathing its last into the cool morning air and lying in the middle of an empty road;
This rolled up burning scrap paper into which the trials of men lie wrapped tight.
Another wave of whisper into the sea, into the chorus of the morning saying “this is what we’ve made.”

II

There is a house in which memories are made,
Moments lived by multiple generations.
The house must stand to serve, for
This purpose is its most sacred honor.

And in return we tend to it with care,
With the devotion that it deserves.
And we say, “This was our house.”
Holy, wise, sacred home,
Stand forever until God Himself reaches his hand out to you.

III

No matter the death, no matter the gloom
The sun shall rise.
No matter the pain, nor love in the night,
The sun shall rise.

And whether it is lost in night,
Whether it lives only in promise;
Yea in some shade, in some song
We all remain strong.
The sun shall always rise,
Growing in the soft glory of midwestern skies.

—-

December and San Simeon

‘…It all died with Kennedy,’
said I from beneath hollow ground.

‘I see it all so clearly. Does it still live with Kennedy? Still…’
‘What’s that?’ asked my neighbor, I couldn’t make out his face.
‘The American Dream?’
‘What’s that?’ he asked again. ‘Some kind of peace? Some prosperity?’
I didn’t answer him for I had turned away. It’s an abused term anyway, I thought.
An abused term anyway

This was the mirrored lobby.
I marched on, a crimson ceiling rippling above me.

–

Everything is opening up. I sit, I stand in such fear of everything, of losing it. I am so alive in that fear and it makes me human.

Kennedy died
And it all cried out one last time in the year 1969
But when I looked around ‘fore my dive I saw something very real, so alive. Was that in our own eyes?

‘Man I’ll do it all for art,’ I say to myself
As the azure grows
A quick bout of darkness before the source
The source of the echo
The source of the glows
Behold! A glowing humble fire
In a humble alcove
Alone.

With a shadow figure quite tall in stature
His voice familiar.

‘What is this place?’ I ask
‘Take this,’ he says, handing me a glass.
‘Take for a bit and rest.’
Some water, for how long I wonder will it be my last
And he says ‘this is but the very first task.’

I wonder then of how many.
‘What is your name?’ and silence remains.
His face invisible, ‘My name is Jonah,’ and he fades away.
‘Rest for the remaining day,’ his voice reverberates.
Whispers and fades

–

Yea I am afraid
So afraid with night so far away
Almost in memory
And with one misstep I return to the day
A twisted stray
Caught in the slipstream, frozen between humanity and immortality.

Let me know where I am
Won’t you speak to me, my friend Jonah?
IS this a dream ?
Speak to me.
I saw a flash of light and oscillating eyes speak to me.
This is not the night.

Tell me what I am to do and I will do it.
I am your friend Jude.
I’ll stay with this fire. See that it stays lit.

And I’ll ascend before the darkening skies that overlook the tranquil waves of San Simeon, beating against the cliffs in a haunting and human love song.

—-

Farewell My Friends

Farewell my friends, for tonight I embark on a journey. And so rise the crimson waves.
But I’ve got a few parting words.

I read ‘A Season in Hell’ this afternoon and saw that the answer, if real, cannot be found on this earth, but it may lie underground. This earth is a place where we all wander by default in the first small arena of our greater minds.

The mind is the true world, some greater world. It is our most immortal globe.

And all that we see, mere residuals.

I’m going then to the other level. In that basement. There’s the door, adjacent to the main lobby.
It’s in the corner. Don’t mind me.
Don’t mind, that
violent flash

it was deja vu
…some whisper to you.

—-

Priest’s Last Crossing

So then save us dear priest, and
Remember my brother who killed a man.
It was not his fault for he was set up.

Remember, dear priest, my elder sister.
A good mother, despite the rumors.
Keep her in your mind. She can take care of the children and she’ll make ends meet. So remember her too.

Remember me, dear friend, for I have sinned.
But haven’t we all?
Remember us all, in the short time you have, for we are all in your hands.
Try and keep up, priest.

—-

Eternal in the Countryside

I wanna put you in a dinner dress, get you looking like an Italian woman in the countryside. Living off the vine.

The dress will fall to just below your knees
And against the rural wall you’ll lean,
Passioned and endearing, smiling at me
And you’ll wear no shoes.

The dress is delicate and thinly sewn
And your shoulder exposed, so bare and cold
You’ll ask if I’m hungry and I’ll ask if you’ll have me, and you’ll nod soft so angelically.

And when, dear woman, I kneel before you
I’ll then rise up, approach and embrace you
And your neck and shoulder I’ll make mine, with that beneath the dress so divine.

And we’ll live as star-crossed children in the countryside
Two earth angles off bread and warm wine.

—-

Graduation Song

Don’t throw me friend
This is all far from fixed
I’m standing in the dark
Amidst warm, gentle mist.

I was a babe when I stood amongst friends
Cannot see home, thoughts suspend.
Is this the dream they warn you of, in
This garden where lies Noah’s dove?

This is not the common road
I see no old friends nor old foes,
Just a sign by an umbrella rack
Reading ‘face the rain and don’t turn back.’

You walk this road where words fail the beauty of what you see.
It’s all just life you’ve chosen to lead
When you lose all thoughts of destiny.
And what sings the song for humanity?
‘This is life, and life only.’
You repeat, staring the line of sweet fragility.

—-

Midnight Prelude

This Girl. This girl.
Who I crave and want to know more about. Share in that laughter.
That laugh of hers riveting, youthful. Joyous.

She is the desert highway child,
Young and reckless, drives me wild.
I came in on chariots of thunder when she came right out, snuck in from under,
Desert nymph.
Oh, calico beauty,
Kiss me, Kill me
Move me, soothe me.
Be my girl my dark blue fire
Wrap your arms round me, sacred desire.

We have the night and death may come soon.
Your smile, divine beneath the light of the moon.
Be my baby, though we haven’t much time
We’ll live as children beneath the starlit sky

—-

Cafe Song

Thoughts and feelings return amidst the chatter and the laughter,
In the sacred warmth of the night hereafter
Living in a drought, just looking at the reservoir of held back pain
A circling force swirling in invisible rain.

Beneath the toasty smoke she skips,
The oblivious child watched by her loving elder brother.
Coffee roasting as the patrons smile,
She’s got crushed ice in a paper cup
She throws bits in the air, catches them in her mouth.
What a baby, what a love,
Some little brat, an angelic dove

And while these things come in shades of honesty, I wonder still if this child saved me.
Then she reaches out her hand and tells me her name.
I tell her mine and she says, “Welcome back, Moonlight.” She says, “Welcome back to the game.”

—-

Her Name is Maria

There is a girl who walks in and she owns the night.
Dressed in black.
Her skin is fair and Latin,
And her dress fits her tight.
Her name is Maria.

I see the fire flicker deep within the autumn of her eyes.
Her lips are red and warm,
Like a rose in dim lamplight,
Like a beacon for travelers in the starlit night,
Soft, still, young and standing alone.
Her name is Maria.

Was she some beaten down royal?
Lost legend? A fallen angel?
Sometimes her face is hidden behind long brown hair.
Where will she go? She a girl without a home?
Off she will stare, a look of the most delicate care.

So tender is the night, sweet Maria.
We met once before, in a breath, I do remember.

Is it you or I who goes from here?
What meaning brought you to me?
This quiet meeting in the great tempest of the black sea.

Once we were children. We return as pilgrims.
And all I hear is the rain, distant when I hold you.
So before we walk into the rising day,
And meet what lie in the crashing waves,
Allow this hour to breathe in the mist.
I’ll hold you close for one final kiss, sweet Maria.
We’ll steal a kiss, sweet Maria.

—-

I Met a Young Woman

I met a young woman,
Here on missionary work,
Wanting to know if I’d read the great book.

‘Have you read the two testaments?’
I say ‘No, no I haven’t.’
She notices that I’m reading T.S. Eliot.
Her body then shifts, and her face up-and-changes.
She says she liked William Blake.
Back when she taught English.
I said ‘I did too,’
Back when I knew English.

I recommended Rimbaud.
She said she didn’t know.
‘Check ‘im out,’ I said ‘I think you’ll like it.’
And part of me felt sincere.
She smiled and said she would. And she is most endearing.
I nodded then and smiled.
Laughing a little inside.

—-

In the Shadows of Church Ruins

When the summer winds fell and the golden throne withered,
And when the church of Jay howled for its reckoning, its cold winter,
A star fell from the northeast canyon, far beyond the desert wilds.
Some hidden, holy star-crossed earth child

Come to this world.
It’s only a ghost of the old form.
But we still carry hats,
You see, we lost our music in the storm.
But if you look just right,
You’ll find the road in the most dim light,
And the soft song of how dark was once night.
Rumor has it that darkness was once night.

Can I offer you a plate, just a speck of food?
You’re pale and thin, oh young man, Jude.
What great rain drew the wind from your sails?
Stay, stay a night and tell me your tale.

—-

Bette Davis

Before the stars fall tonight,
Fasten your seat belts.
It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

A legend
Burning invincible
Spreading across the light
Splitting apart the darkest night
A star, so bright

She sang
She danced
Kept men imprisoned
Stuck in an abusive trance
But oh, she was lovely
Capable of such love

Later standing cold
Abandoned yet steadfast
Confident.
Demons veiled from confidantes;
Exposed to all, only once
In small movie.

Tonight she shows for a final number.
Ladies and gentlemen, refrain your hands.
Yes, subdue your applause.
If the light should shine, then LET it shine
One last time
Before the stars fall tonight
Fasten your seat belts
It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

—-

Stationhouse Blues (I’d Give it All for You)

As the trains, they roll on by
Ignorant of that gleam in you eye
I thought I heard the whisper of the rain
I turn around and the same passerby, gray concrete remains

These tunnels, these tracks I might call home
Though I heard somewhere, another light had once shone
In a dream I remember visions so clear
In the steam, like a mist, yea it blinks, briefly reappears.

I need you baby
I remember you
I came for you, won’t you meet me now.
There’s a place for us and it’s waiting beyond
The sun shall bring the morning but only you can bring me the dawn

Through these corridors I roam like a phantom found.
I’d become another stranger in the smoke in the crowd.
Though they all may come and go, sometimes I swear I shall remain,
Until I see your steam train comin’ my way.

What are you my dear, I cannot say
And yet I’d follow you at any time and in any way
And is that the general tune of your song
Standing alone, as I frame the nature of whose side your on?

All I know is that I need you baby
I’d give it all for you
You dance somewhere in these train station walls.
And it’s true that I can’t see you at all
And I stand so ready for you each time darkness falls.

—-

In the Valleys…

In the valleys of Rimbaud
Yea in the valleys of Hendrix’s Neptune
In the valleys of Azure, yea
I feel the winds of violet coming soon

I’m on a ship that will lead to the stars
I’m taking it on, to Venus and to Mars

Won’t you come with me baby
Won’t you sing while the night gleams on
The skies are falling now
And giving way to the new child of a blinking dawn

We’ll hold eachother’s hand
And watch with delight on our new wave of art,
Our incoming band that conquers the night.

—-

I saw Tom Waits (He Might Have Looked at Me)

Tom Waits and violet roses. Man I want it all.
Satisfaction is death and I crave the gritty night sidewalks of LA. These days I want to recall the old voices and heroes. Oh Tom Waits, you are such a man. The voice for the outcast and prideful soul. The observant soul that stares from the dark into the greater darkness. You’re like a rude man’s Billy Joel.

My name is Jude. I might see you through and through.
Have you any songs left for me?
What will the future come to be?
Christen me won’t you?

Jude’s descent–

—-

Keep the Night

When the sun went down this evening, baby
You know I saw the look in your eyes.
The stars rose, the pillars of heaven shone,
And we stared straight into the night sky.
And we danced, hand in hand, with the night sky.

When you felt the fear in you strike first,
You came to me to ask questions why.
And I saw you turn your head to the ground.
Darlin’ your face became the evening sky.
Perhaps its what we see when we gaze on high,
The faces of new friends and old, gone by.

So keep the night baby.
Keep it going till no end.
Keep it forever, our time here together is a Godsend.

I see the shining archway in the most starlit realm
And I hear your voice echo, lost, searching
And a streak of blue simmers from below
So begins the sun approaching
So ends the age of yearning
Somewhere you remain like suspended snow.

So keep the night baby.
Keep it going till no end.
Keep if forever, our time here together is a Godsend.

—-

Lie Clasped Desire

Blonde-haired beauty
Calico nymph, looking at me with a gun in your hand.
Your eyes still, and your smile warm.
Where you gonna be tomorrow morn’?

Look me in the eyes, luckless lady.
You gonna run for tomorrow?
Lips narrow…
Be soft,
Be quick.
And remember to carry your matchsticks.

You told me ‘thanks for the dance’.
What happened?
What happened when you went up and ran?
I thought you were tired?

In your eyes lies the blue, in an infant fire.
In your hand lies clasped the gun.
Goes by the name ‘Desire.’

—-

My Karina

Lying in the bedroom
We look at eachother and we see the future hiding in our eyes, piercing through the smoke-filled air.
Kiss me before I die.
It’s you or I.
And it leaves me breathless.

Your shoulders bare.
Lit like a child’s moon.
Humming softly on this grey afternoon.
And your hair, tousled and blonde,
Still breathing,
Searching in a wandering dawn.

Let me have your gun, babe.
I’ll take it away
And you won’t see me runnin’ at the end of the day.
I’ll come for you when the sun fades into the night.
And you and I will dance tomorrow in country lights.
Take a breath and hold it tight.

—-

Jude and the Ghosts and Symbols

Jude clings to the hope of the cross
And wants to find the meaning of it all
And he finds with passing years, and at every human loss
He finds solace in the new day’s dawn
In the eyes of those who kill to crawl

In the children of the fall

Bless us all your fellow man
Look to your brother, he says, and take his hand.

—-

Priest and Mother

I imagine my mother
When she was young, she was me.
As I am my son.
She was a searcher
Passionate,
Wise for her years but wanting to know more.
Yea you saw the yearning in her eyes.

And you see it now in mine
Those eyes that stared deep into those of the priest.
Because it is we who are the teachers,
The preachers, and the leaders of tomorrow.

—-

The Priest and His Teacher

Jesus smiled at me when I decided to no longer pray
Go out into the lands, said he
Go out and I’ll be there on the other side
I’ll be holding your walking shoes
You and me, we were meant for great things
And we’ll go out together
The invincible church consists of all human beings of goodwill, says he.
You saw that in a movie once, says I.
And he tells me to go marry a black chick, “and be on your way until the sun comes up and you’ve faded well into the day.”

The sinners are closer to God than the parishioners,
And I hear the bombs outside and the sound makes me happy.

—-

Roman Procession for Ferdinand

A marching band parades down an old Italian street of cobblestone dressed in black,
Mourning ecstasy and the promise that they will not see it lived out.
But they march on, baptizing all the children in the World War psalm.

—-

Ode to Ralph L. Marvin

Tonight was rowdy, inside was calm
The winds hold steady
A festival in His palm
Looked at the bookstore
Some holy land for posing, aging, clinging intellectuals
Looking like fishermen
Their last disguise
Twenty-first century prophets hiding
Looking for some youthful eyes
They’ve got some last words from the wise
Looking to sink down and cry one last time
One more time, before the big ride.

—-

To Tame the Swan

Watering house plants, absent of circumstance,
Every morning looking brighter,
Nightfall and a love re-inspired.
This is my garden,
In which I have all my treasure.
I hear a sound from behind the mountain,
And from the flower bed, I derive my greatest pleasure

I have memories and flashing thoughts
Visiting dreams that, come the sunrise are soon forgot.
This is my garden.
From the valleys was that a roar?
This is my ground and sacred creation,
Where all is preserved to live forever more and soar.

Come beauty,
Swim dear, mystic swan.
Images of you, fragile and surreal.
You are the keeper of all that I dream through the dawn.
Be my friend, mystery child.
Won’t you answer, oh guardian of the jasmine wild?

Sounds may peak and they will not remain.
Flashes of red in my eternal sea of green.
This is my garden.
Something tried, but turned and is no more.
Arriving is the night, and the sky has darkened;
And no sounds come now from that distant shore.

—-

Into Night’s Highway

Racing down from the forests of Arden
Racing down into a mystical night
Racing down across the dark, desert highway
Racing down fantastical youth

I thought I saw a glimmer of summer
I thought I saw a flash of youth
I thought I saw my smiling mother
I thought I saw the sun peaking through

On a lonesome black highway
What can I give you, sacred lady?
For I’m not free
And in your shadows I find reminders of an endless dune.
Let me break or let me die early.
And free me from joining the choir’s endless tune

At the end I fear the cold waking tomb
On the stone is reads ‘Jude’
Soft.

—-

Autumn Song

So arrives October and the leaves rush in
The winds awake
Over the grave of summer and the sun departs below the drifting clouds
Consoling, conferring with sky knights before the final ascent
And the coming of the night sky
Summer’s gone
Summer’s gone
And so arrives the autumn song
Bring on the winds
And bring on the love
For there is no greater gift to the lonely soul
Than the company of the cold, dark dove.

I walk the plane and behld the sun rise over and through the California rain
Evaporated amid the laughing children, evaporate
And the smells of the grilling meat and cracking beer
And the slow corrosion
Within
Put it all away now
And lay it to rest
For so arrives the autumn dawn
Illuminating its children, deliverers of the shadow’s song.

—-

Human Psalm

The fortune telling lady, who sits ready in a rolling valley,
Puts her cards out and says as she smiles, “Young man, I hope you choose wisely.”
And the iron-clad angel returns one last time before heaven’s army sets final sail.
Removing her veil, she plays her golden trumpet. A note, eternal, she cries, “Hail!”.

And upon the desert path there is no sound, and alone stands a royal palm.
Heaven ascends into a distant dawn, and in it’s wake leaves a human psalm.

On a lonesome paved path, along the waiting suspended plain,
Lies a mountain where at it’s peak falls the first drop of the rain.
And the soothing aroma, the evening spire, blankets the earth in regressed, primordial slumber.
And the deserts grey fades away to the tune of the rolling thunder.

And at the landing stands a man grey jacket and fedora, scrolled paper tied with ribbon in the palm of his hands;
And he gazes up at the darkening peak, for a reunion, he understands.

He climbs the rocky slope now and he hears a whisper from the near corner of the sky;
As it descends upon his shoulders, low, and surrounds once more the ancient eye.
And far in the valley, beneath the gathering storm, he sees the baby deer, the father and the doe,
Embracing one another in the breath of it all; Love seems a glimmer from those soft depths below.

And looking to the sky, seeing only the rain, he shrugs and he marches on.
He gave up on matters of love and pain, he was told “Life goes on.”

At the peak awaits a young man, Jude, who’s arrived only to hear and to see.
To hear the sun gasps its last, and watch the rays fall to the sea.
Enter the man in grey, as he approaches this young man.
With his eyes of ice, he hands him his diploma and says “Stay now and face Pandora.”

With a lightning flash he turns away, and the young man knows there’ll be no curtain call.
Where the light once shone, he now stands alone. He says, “Perhaps I’m better off.”

Out and across the eastern dune, the tradesman and politician exchange old deeds.
Across King Arthur’s trading table, they wince and they croon, no longer aware of what each other means.
From his coat the tradesman removes a scripture, telling tales of fire and fallen snow.
The politician, he laughs out loud and says, “You know the truth is I gave up long ago.”

And as the night falls and the sands, they rise, the tradesman looks down, and smiles serene.
He closes his eyes and he sees the Divine, sailing somewhere on a sea of green.

Atop the mountain peak remains the young man, Jude, and he beholds the crystal sea;
A day looming somewhere far to the other side, smiling in tumbling leaves.
Into the storm he heads straight on, and with the wind his boat takes fight.
He’ll look for those who’ve seen it too, the phantom flame of the young, violent night.

So off he goes into the lightning wilds, as the storm rages on.
And in peaceful slumber lie the deer and the doe, while the child sings the Human Psalm.

—-

(Moonlight Walks) Jude Moonlight and the Elysian Fields

Well hey Mr. McGrath, did you hear the rumor?
From those distant shores?
Of how black cat sang a loathsome ballad, talking of destruction and old, broken down routines?
That cat, that little loathsome, he may indeed have had it right.

This world’s gettin’ too small for me, man.
Time for me to split before the comet hits.
Maybe me and a few pals we can tell the story of old.
The songs of young men.
The dream of the lone leader.
The tyranny of green, the tragedies of greed.

This fire’s a-blazin’ but no one runs.
I think my shoelace is untied.

Sitting on that comet comin’ down,
Lo and behold ol’ Bozo the Clown,
Naked and wearing only a frown.

And behold the fine young man in graduation robes.
“I’ll do anything if I can.
I got my own future, you see.
I wanna pursue my dreams,
Then maybe,
Have a family of three,
When I’m done with all that.”

Enter the elderly man.
Worn with sadness and defeated expression.
I say, “Hey man, you done or something?”
He just hit his sixties, far as I can tell.
He says, “Lemme tell ya young man your generation’s gonna save de whole world from hell.” And I didn’t know what he meant then.

Anyway I took my guitar and drifted around.
Said to myself, “Man, this ain’t my kind of town.”
I came upon a city of white.
And I see the President, his tie undone, he says, “Hey Mr. Moonlight, could you spare me a light?”
I obliged.
I thought ,”Strange indeed” how I had a pack on me, being that I don’t smoke.
And he smiled as the sky turned red,
And he said,
“Well, there’s something for change and hope.”

Down a few blocks I slid down a vortex,
And soon stood amongst the desperate and the poor,
And they didn’t seem all too phased.
For they’d seen chaos before.
The moment they were born, or when they came home from war.

One of the patrons was very old,
As he looked at me with a stare so cold.
“If all’s can’t be equal in the minds of men,” he said,
“Or through institutions of the government,
Then this chaos is a Godsend.
For no man rules another in the Kingdom of Heaven.”

I arrived at a stump to think about things,
And come upon an old woman with her diamond ring.
She say “My goodness, it’s awfully hot out here!”

I double take for just a second,
And notice the paleness of her complexion.
Her skin, I realize is transparent!
And so we sit alone and together,
A wandering young man and a lost old specter,
Stranded and silent before the falling sun.

And as she motions forward in her enduring march of the free, and
Heading toward those thick forest trees,
She smiles lightly looking back at me.

“So long ol’ boy”, she says with her grin.
“Let me know when the King comes shakin’ on home.
Let me know when the dust settles and the wounds are sewn.
When, like saxophones which gleam so gold,
We reclaim all that is our very own.”

“You might find me way out in the Mojave,
Where rattlesnakes’ll be my company.
And until all stand up and are once again ready,
There you’ll find my spirit clingin’ steady.
Remember my name…cry it out.
‘Liberty, oh sweet Liberty.'”

—-

(Man in Black) The Ballad of Quentin Joss

On the Southern Streets of the Delta May,
No voices sing the bandleader’s song.
You might hear the humming tune of stone eyes piercing the day,
And the dust on the glass which blankets the dawn.

On summer afternoons, with fallen rain beneath the sun,
The wandering turn, blink toward the sky.
None shall hear that voice from on high.
‘So goes the human design.’

Well friends call me ‘leader.’
I am but their brother.
I try and spread good news.
Its like grabbing water,
When they turn on their brother and abandon their father.

And I seek harmony and I seek the sign.
Perhaps it is only their human design.

I walk these streets with my fists clenched in the rain.
And I look to the sky and I search for the day.
I turn back home, for I am alone.
Yet even there I cannot enter, and I am left to roam.
What smiles in the darkness behind the locked oak door?
And I cling to the fallen rain upon the cement floor.
Where is the sign this time?
Is this the human design?

Well Quentin Joss he walks these streets of New Orleans,
Embracing all who turn on what they cannot see.
And I, the Man in Black, I ask ‘What do you believe?’
He says, ‘I believe, I believe in humanity.’
I ask if he’s heard that voice from on high.
‘Many times,’ he says, ‘but not from the sky.’
‘Where, tell me where then,’ I cried.
He says, ‘I saw you him, you see I saw him in your eyes.’
‘In your eyes and mine,’
And he says, ‘So goes the human design.’

—-

Bluebird

Lights remain dim on Hollywood sidewalks beneath a grey sky.
We’ve long searched for light.
It’s found us at last, on a sleepy western morning
And it embraces us from the longest night.

There’s a man playing guitar
On an avenue of exhausted stars.
His music echoes through the alleys,
Through avenues near and far.
For all the lonely pilgrims, it strikes deep the heart,
And it catches the lost children who’ve weathered the dark.

From the street corner kitchen I see steam rising high.
And I see my friends gather ’round, and I see the sun slowly rise.
Out over the sea, out on high,
So flies the bluebird into the western sky.

And I say thank you my friend, and goodbye.
I’ll see you again, someday on the other side.

—-

Haiti Song (Jan 2010)

Hey mister, I heard a thunder down past the mountain view.
Hey mister, I heard a rolling wind. I dreamt a dream of a crying youth.
Hey madam, can you help me? My heart has just gone and shook.
I caught a glimpse of an angel, but she has faded beyond the brooke.

Hey mama, tell me if its true. Is there a demon lurking down down below?
What’s that, Ms. Dubois? You swear you saw above you, a lone weeping crow?
My friend, my God, you’ve started bleeding, is there someway I can help you?
Tears in his eyes, his last look at the sky.
Talkin’ how it ended too soon.

Please sweet Marlena, I’ve got a message you can send for me.
Tell my love I’m gonna see her, ‘neath the shade of the rolling trees.
When she goes to face her open window, and through her hair she feels a breeze,
Help her remember when we met last December. When she smiled at me. She set me free.

The sky’s turned grey, my mind fades away as the rest of me has grown numb.
Can’t hear the cries around me, silence encircles me, save for the banging of the final drum.
And through my own pain, despite the falling rain as I take my final breath;
Though the smoke, beyond the mountains, past the golden fountains, I catch a glimpse of you as I lie to rest.

So sweet Marlena, I’ve got a message you can send for me
Tell my love I’m gonna see her, near the heart on our immortal tree.
And when she goes to face her open window, and through her hair she feels a breeze,
Help her remember when met last December. When she smiled at me. She set me free.

—-

Sky Parade

Drifting leaf,
Allow me to catch you once
Before you dance forever more in the wind.
I want to save you from the floor,
That place where the glory for all of us ends.

Listen to me, honey baby.
Don’t you know I just wanna be your friend?
Allow me one chance to save you darlin’
And you’ll see that you are in loyal hands.
Just wanna keep you dancing in the wind.
Yea..
I want you to fly.
Higher and higher.
In the grand orchestra of God’s great sky.
Sail forever in the wind.
Fly
Fly high
Never die…

Drifting leaf (oh sailing star)
I know you are afraid.
Shall I hold you but once tonight?
Provide you shelter from the rain?
In this world there’s no way of knowing who to trust,
Even though we all walk blindly in a sky parade.

—-

Of the Twilight Jungle

Crawling on a neon leaf,
Amid the rain
Soaking the green and the trees;
On planet Earth
And in that core of the black masses,
Lies a blue pearl that holds all of eternal life
With all that lasts
From this life to the next.

Horror, Horror, Horror;
From the next morning until the rising day,
Beat down upon us all.

Crawling caterpillar,
Withhold all until the dawn awakes
And the rain no longer falls,
And the sun shines upon us all.
Do those cactus fields still call?
From this day until the fall,
In the storm the caterpillar crawls.

There’s a deep human sound bellowing from behind the hill.
Is it the distant dawn whispering to us still?
Or the rising of the manhunting mob coming in for the kill?
Where is the creator now,
When his children speak so?

Tell us Twilight King
What songs will we sing?

—-

Orca Blue

What is a poor sailor to do?
When he hasn’t got you
To see him through,
As the waves crash against my orca blue?

What is young man to think?
When you’ve left him all alone on white tombstone brink?
What indeed am I left to think,
When you’ve left me with a just a wink?

What am I to say,
When you’ve let me go astray?
What can I really say,
When you’ve left it all for me to pay?
The sun darling has beat down on me day after day.

And why can’t I,
I, the poor sailor bring myself to cry?
Why, as I look on the horizon,
Cant I see why you didn’t help me fly?

What am I to believe?
With the dirt on my sleeve,
When you chose to leave,
Leaving me with this life to heave.
What, oh what my dear am I left to believe?

What is a poor sailor to do?
When he hasn’t got you
To see him through,
As the waves crash against my orca blue?

—-

Black-Tie Event

Sitting in the backseat of an SUV.
The air is cool,
The ride is rough as we drive by the American flag
Its edges torn, waving in the winter wind.
Not much longer to live.
And in the air are walls of sand as we make our way to the black-tie event.

I can see destiny’s wings flying high toward the sun.
The sun!
O, awful and might overseer!
We stand in humility and at fault.
Stand outside,
I cannot.
The air is hot.
No I’ll wait for the evening rain.
You won’t see me again.
Yet should you have some final flames to vent,
You can find me at a universal black-tie event.

We’ve committed more crimes than we can count;
Hurt, stabbed the skin and flesh more than we’ll admit.
Give me an expanse devoid of sound.
Give me a darkness that’s still candlelit.
In a broken-down chorus we stand in neglect
Yea still in unison, for an evening black-tie event.

Hand-to-hand in long-awaited embrace,
We stand together for our tempestuous fate.
Still could use some love in the absence of hate.

As we stand ready to receive the sky’s mighty weapon,
Let us only embrace the forgiveness in heaven.
And before skies make us fall and repent,
Before your fury arrives signed and sent,
Allow me minutes, five or ten?
One last drink at our black-tie event.

—-

Carmen

She dances in dim lamplight,
Hair a lovely wave.
Smoke in the clubroom,
And thoughts evaporate
Into a soft and strung-out daze.
They call you
And spit your name.
Did you turn to me?
You wonder if I’d provide any more than the same.
And there’s nothing left for me to say.
You gonna rescue me from my last remaining days?

Your perfume sparks my blood.
The touch of your skin,
So wonderful, so fragile.
With you and I
There are no sins,
For you are the walking angel.

So Good Day Carmen.
Goodnight Carmen.
Arizona nymph.
Graceful girl of the southwestern skies,
Whose eyes frame the desert twilight.
Take my hand little girl.
I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine,
And we’ll hold each other in these darkest of times,
So long as as the sun keeps refusing to shine.
Fear not to sing,
Carmen, my darling.

—-

Hollywood Songs #4

On the broken boulevard stands the impersonator
Trying to score a buck,
Could be down on his luck,
Invoking The King–
The Memphis Country Boy
Who turned from heartland hero
To Vegas Sideshow,
Who walked along angels of the American highways
Standing up to the coaxing sun
Chasing glory and some old-fashioned fun,
Letting the sun grace his skin and the wind fly through his hair
Before he stood arm-in-arm with Dick Nixon,
Became a victim of drug-addicted and complacent despair,
A product of a lost generation
Looking for a buck,
Down on its luck,
Building monuments for heroes and kids
Praising and claiming to sing
While they crumble their soul, tossing them in trash bins.
So it went when they killed the King.

—-

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

—-

Young Deceiver

Look into my eyes oh young deceiver.
Jump into my dream now and I’ll make you a believer.
Open your mind and stare down into your falling, sinking well.
Be wary of your ground, for you wear your soul on your lapel.

Are you the sacred master of the hopeless and internally obscene?
You, the golden calf, for those who sail slowly beneath the frozen eastern sea?
Yes, you wave your silver dollar and your followers they bleed.
Jump out your skyway plane and into the astonishment by the things you’d see.

Settle down now, oh ageless apothecary,
And sleep now as the streets whisper Mary,
At every lonesome corner of this abyss of man’s heartlessness.
Lie down in your abandoned shadow, joining the rest of us
In the last remaining chorus of human consciousness.

—-

Sinner’s Lament

I gaze at the day
And I search the twilight
Try and embrace the night for a little dignity.
But I just feel cold and wet.
Fat and unkept.
There is no God for me.

I hear kids at play
The song of lovers sway.
I catch glimpses of myself with those highs.
And at the end of the day
They all got a loved one with whom to stay
And there’s no place for me to hide.

Darkness falls
Darkness remains
As the alleycats commence their escapades.
(Does the) Punishment fit the crime? Does it compensate?
Well mister it ain’t for me to say.
Hell, we all make mistakes.
My life wasn’t meant to turn out this way.

I want rain.
I want all Earth’s water.
Just to swim all night in a tempestuous sea.
Tell me sir, would it be in vain?
Would I walk out clean, or just feelin’ the same.
Cause I tell ya, there ain’t no God for me.

—-

James Brown

I sat at the old porch
Of a childhood friend
Where sitting on a lawnchair
Was dear ol’ Jimmy Brown.
He smiled wide and stared
And I danced a jig on the ground.
I happened to be wearing a blanket
Of blue velvet
For no particular reason,
Which gave me the appearance
Of some sort of sultan or emperor.
And everybody adored (me).

—-

Treaty with the Angel

***Or ‘Modern Marriage (The Ghost’s Agreement)’

I feel as though you are an angel,
And I am a ghost.
You are a pleasant dream that hides behind a bush,
And I am a creature lost in eternal dry-spun hope.

I am like a goblin,
A goblin caught in his own fire.
I come out yet again,
With a grin that your beauty inspires.

We’ve been on this merry-go-round since the early ages of time.
Since the sun first rose and gave birth to the human mind.
I cannot remember a moment through all that has passed
When I was yours in your blissful abode, and yet how the romance lasts!

Oh Angel! Oh Dream!
Oh, won’t you speak clear to me!
Have mercy upon me! Allow me to break from your heavenly spell.
Either let me in or let me alone!
I have not been at ease since your light first shone!

Allow me to once again wander in valleys, and
Meander along the beach; and
Won’t you let me do so without any beckoning sea, and
Without the evangelists who cannot cease to preach.

I do not seek loneliness.
Nay! I seek solitude.
It is nothing but the former that I feel in your holiness.
I wonder sometimes if I am but your entertainment, an unpaid prostitute.

Leave me! Leave me! Leave me! Leave me! Leave ME!
I am content among the lame and the poor.
Yes, I will once again walk among the human, the worn-out and torn.

We are in the journey together, you see. This journey against judgment, ridicule and heavenly scorn.
There is beauty and fragility in earth and humanity.
Well beyond that which you can even fathom in your scriptures for eternity.

I will be their brother.
I will be their guardian and protector.
I will show them the divine within themselves and in each other.
There can be no salvation in any abstract trinity,
But only in the final, choral embrace of humanity.

Alas! I feel no strain nor pull.
Your light no longer blinds me.
Judgment no longer encircles me.

At long last, I am at peace.
I stand in darkness once again.
I sit beside a homeless man on the street.
In that moment, I take him as my brother, and
He takes me as his friend.

—

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

-William Blake

—-

The Road Hits a Lonely Mountain

There is fire burning within.
I thought how wonderful it was to last so long.
Never has it grown thin,
Just given birth to soft melodies and epic song.

I see the mountain
And I will sing across hundreds more.
I will fly across the seas
And explore the high pillars of Babylon
Before I have to arrive here once more
And meet, once and for all, the bitter old miser.
Become the miser or be killed by the miser.
So it goes.

I crashed to the earth bare and without blemish.
The collision carved a canyon deep,
And the land quaked to this bold, fresh piece of humanity.
And I grew.
And I grew.
I was hungry.
I thought myself invincible.
I still do.
But I see that mountain ahead.
And I know it brings the end.
It’s the place where young spirits die.
They die, or they grow old instead.

I am stuck on this road.
There must be some detour.
The future cannot be sowed.
Some off-beaten path, another avenue to explore.

Come with me.
Be very silent.
We can wait in the calm
And hide from the storm.

—-

Ophelia

>
Cabiria and the Hypnotist
Michael Quinn

The rocks leave trapped the spectral blue sky
As Ophelia screams of the thief in white.
A farm bell tolls as the sirens reappear
From the top row of trembling Mediterranean fears
There is no power great enough, says she
To tame the pirates of the southern seas
To thwart liars who leave their mothers displeased
Who promise to make the blind stand up and see
And yet through all the fortunes and shaken rust
And all the broken promises and one-sided lusts
Cabiria still walks on a trail of lifting dust.

—-

Beneath a Grey Sky

There is a presence in the air
That whispers to us all.
There is something calling to us all.
There may yet be daylight before nightfall.

And yet all who walk along
Beneath the beckoning sky
Pay no attention really.
They listen, they blink. They move on and the message sinks.

There ain’t much left that’s really dear
Except all they’ve been told to fear,
While the multitudes march on, choosing to listen and failing to hear.

—-

Thunderstorm Melody

There is a fury of rain and thunder
Crashing outside the window
As the sounds of jazz play
In the smooth aura of our room.
Outside lie nature’s fierce display
Of violence and mystery;
And it eases with the waves of saxophones and
Soft drum beats in a soft,
Sexual tide that envelop us all in raw ecstasy.

This storm frightens no one,
Not one living,
Breathing soul in the room,
Nor even the animals outside, who share
In the celebration of the Earth’s gift to us all tonight.
For that is what it represents to all children of the Earth.
The storm is our gift,
Our rebirth.
A removal of all the day’s strife and pollution,
And of all that has been.
There is no violence in this storm greater than that which it washes away.
And we stand together in celebration of the eternal night before the distant day.

—-

Song for Bette Davis

>12/29/2010

Song for Bette Davis
By Michael Quinn

Oh my darling Bette Davis
You were a bitch and crude some still say
But I love you oh specter of the night sky
My dear beloved Bette
Beneath your skin of rock I see beauty
A delicacy that I could dive into and swim for all eternity.

You were a legend you were a star.
But to me you were a woman, a real woman
Your eyes, your beautiful, piercing eyes
Could tame the wildest fires
And frame the darkest night sky.

I never knew you, I never saw you or spoke to you
Life is hard on many, and it has discouraged many more
For us all it sharpens its thorns,
For the rich and for the poor.
You knew it all along. You warned me long ago in a dream.
You were misunderstood, you were too often left cold and scorned.
I wish I had known you.
We’d have made two eternal lovers
A son and a mother
Or I your faithful brother.

You were a red rose that could forever stand
The coldest nights and driest desert sands
I sit in a cafe where there are three older, nagging old women
Speaking as though they are all who exist
Their conversation is the cafe soundtrack
Their voices are thunderous, in which I fail to hear the slightest crack.
How would you stand amongst these hopeless old hacks?
Would you chime in and argue, would you walk away after giving them a slap?
I bask in the bliss of the cyclonic wellspring of admiration I hold for you,
Oh, patron of the lost and the abused,
Oh, eternal guardian of the fading afternoon,
My precious Bette Davis,
My darling baby blue.

—-

Home

This morning I see the sun reigning over me
Always there for me seemingly
Where were you dear sun when I saw no light?
Where were you brave one when I was lost in the night?
Where were you great shepherd when I lost comfort and sight?
Where were you mighty hero? I wasn’t born to fight.

I look over yonder and, behold, skyscraper mountains;
A range of security, never-ending.
Where were you great titans while I lie naked and vulnerable?
Where were you earthly soldiers, while we starved beneath the rubble?
Where were you fearless giants, when our hearts froze immobile?
Where were you wise ones when we redefined horrible?

I gaze upon grassy plains, ebullient green
And I breathe in its rich constant supply of color and life
Oh, great carpet of the earth, where were you when I slept upon sand, dust and cold stone?
Where were you, great life supplier, when beneath and all around me, lie human bone?
Where were you unfailing earthen mother, when I stood empty and alone?
Where were you, great bed of primal dream, when I dropped to my knees and cried out for home?

Beside me, I see a narrow single tree.
Dear friend, I’ve returned. Do you remember me?
Darling home to the blue birds, may I lie in your shade as I once more attempt to dream?
Squire of nature, teach me to marvel at the beauty of that distant sea.
Oh, child of Earth, may I bask in your youth? And preserve your fragility?
I’ll make it my purpose, dear brother, to ensure that you never see what I’ve seen.

—-

The New Rising Sun

I sit at the cafe with my legs crossed like a cool cat
I’m chasing something far and away
It’s mystery, unattainable
But I must have it
My words are elementary
I’m like some infant
Haven’t learned to walk
Every effort seeming futile

I wish to break free from the confines of orthodoxy
Break free from concerns of passing time and trivial rhyme

If I take the slightest step toward Kerouac and Ginsberg
I will surely misstep,
And face the ridicule and self-neglect

Oh to break free
To break free and stay walking
Basking in enlightenment and consistency

—

I wish to join the legends of the Fall
To strip away the fat, the laziness
And states of satisfaction
I want the rush of the drive The ecstasy of reaction
To live in youthful romance
To die in the streets
Having told its tales with honesty, and
Having enjoyed every second of honor

Alas I am a fraud
Nothing more than a suburban boy
Whose belly remains full
I live a life of true love
I enjoy companionship
In home life and joy
To abandon this, I’d be a fool

And to abandon it, for what?!
For security in identity?

Is identity all that I am chasing?
Merely to be seen by others as one who has seen?
As the troubador!
As the patron!
As the minstrel?
As the poet?
Prophet?
Outlaw?

But I am a fake
There is nothing more in the spectrum to take.
Jimi Hendrix is dead.
Janis will no longer sing.
Bob Dylan is an abandoned mystery.
The Beatles are all but history.

Where in the expanse of world literature there existed red deserts and radiant moons
There are now small waves and recycled monsoons (afternoons)
Hemingway faded into elderly oblivion
I thought I saw Chuck B. and Jerry Lee
A transparent, blue apparition

Scooter still stands in a defiant mission
But yet even he had the premonition
He sang beneath streetlights and sang the unforseen
How poets down here write nothing at all
Just stand back and let it all be.

We stand in an era of broken promises and exploitation
Of masturbatory order
There is no incentive for leaders
For we crucify those who try and take the world on their shoulders

I thought something not long ago
Must’ve slipped my mind now
Just cut my hand and there stands a man
A distant shadow I know
And with his guitar he begins to play
For the few who will listen
United as one
Maybe someday will come
The dawn of the New Rising Sun

—

—-

(Shoelaces) Strung Too Tight

The walls of my house are no longer my own.
I wonder if it should have taken me this long to realize.
My purpose and calling, sister, lie somewhere down the road.
I am well-fed and I show all a smile, yet the darkness does not escape my eyes.

If you asked me yesterday what I was to do
I’d have you sit down and I’d play you a song.
Yet if you are still a friend to me today,
You’d look in my eyes and know that something is wrong.

It seems I’ve had support in all that I’ve done;
And despite it all I am yet bound to fall.
You can preach all you wish about learning from mistakes,
Will I listen to you on your white horse calling while I’m on the floor miserably crawling?

This plate of plenty I can no longer enjoy.
I feel far from deserving love of this size.
I would love to stand amongst you all and rejoice,
But honey, all the music in the world couldn’t make this darkness flee from from my eyes.

I see a girl standing in the bedroom corner.
She looks familiar, a ghost of romance and young love long ago learned.
I stroll in joy to her bright red corner.
Yet though my arms are open wide, her look’s grown cold and stern.

I take my guitar and play her a song,
But her arms cross together and she stands up steady.
In that moment she tells me how the melody’s grown old.
She smiles weak, says ‘good luck’ and ‘good-bye’, once again before I am ready.

How can you tell me to live in the moment.
Try, oh sister, to smell the roses with your eyes fixed on a faraway prize.
It’s easier said than done, I guarantee it.
Until that prize is mine, oh darlin’, there’ll be darkness in these eyes.

—-

May the Morning Last Forever

>As the sun rises, my mind races in panic to remember its youth,
as it slowly reveals the moisture parading atop the grass.
The memories of fate and long-forgotten dreams
rest deep beneath the lawn of bright green,
Battles have been won, others just fought
I know not what this day or the next will bring.
All I wish is for this red sun to remain
and to the mockingbird, may he continue to sing.

I sip my first cup of coffee to the coming of the first morning breeze
The roast seems almost majestic as I lay back in mesmerizing pain.
I clasp the mug tight to my palm, my knuckles locked tight to the final stage in the freeze.
I look down into the mug and dread the emptiness I am bound to see.

—-

Songs of Winter

On this withering new morning,
This first of December,
I can feel the cold wind penetrate
The solid brick of my home.

A Spring arrived this year
and yet within there was decay.
A summer blasted and scorched in seething pain.
Autumn settled and my spirit rest beneath the leaves.

And as mother earth returns to sleep
and her beauty fades to white,
There is but the faintest gleam of life within me,
a soft and glimmering light.

There is a woman standing here beside me
as I sit defeated in a rocking chair.
Her identity is unclear to me
and still I have yet to care.

She will fix a plate of food for me
and I’ll wonder if she came from above.
She leaves the house and every second is a second too long
Cause it looks like I’ve rediscovered love.

She is a woman some 20 years beneath my age
“I don’t know what the future holds for this old man,” I say.
All’s I know is that if the end should come soon,
Let my last sight be that of your eternally nurturing face.