A CONFUSION OF INSPIRATIONS
You Were Afraid Of Your Feelings
If I Ever Get A Chance Again (Lyrics)
The Forest And The Trees And Me (Lyrics)
Three.
Three of them.
In my one heart.
In my one poem.
One broke herself.
Who was first
is last.
Nostalgia
is like
the water at the bottom
of the deep jar
in the story
about the fox,
he couldn’t
drink it
even though it was there.
Yesterday fell
out of her arms
and died.
Another
locked herself
in a cage
and rolled herself away
with the circus
of escape artists,
she could have been
the one
if she’d stayed in town
for more than one night at a time,
if she’d put down the whip
she used to break
the tigers
in her soul.
The last one
never left the flower.
She clung,
butterfly-like,
to the fragrance
of dreams that did not
need a man,
she lost herself
in a maze of beauty.
Speaking to ghosts
and angels,
she forgot
the language of
heavy things,
the burden of bodies
collapsing on top of
souls,
the ignorance
called loneliness.
Loving him,
she left
a man to die,
because
she doesn’t
believe in
death.
Three.
The holy three.
Blessed is the number three.
The number
of my sorrow.
Old and new,
neither right,
crashed together
in the night:
and left,
in their place,
only love and light.
Sometimes I want to feel
hands.
You are a a breeze.
But you are a breeze
that knows
how to love.
And the gentle touch
of air
that does not
hurt me
outlasts
the storm of bodies
joined in a lie.
All the winter
of being loved
by others
buried my true self
in the closed bud
of what
they feared.
But then you came, and
the flower
of my soul opened
in the
springtime
of you.
Air triumphed
over
hands.
Soul love
mattered more
than body love,
after all.
I think this is an intersection,
not a forever.
Two lines crossing
on their own paths of sadness.
In sorrow,
we fit like hand and glove.
After we lift each other
from the pit
will we be enough?
Down here
in the bottom of the sea,
a little light
is enough reason
to say yes.
Gray
in the midst of black
is like
the
sun.
Right now
we are everything
for each other
and the only thing.
Tomorrow,
after I have saved you
and after you have saved me,
will we be strangers?
I can weather the storm
of you
to be with the sun
of you.
Don’t let the dark day
carry you all the way
away,
don’t go past the point of
no return,
even though
you can still return.
Don’t do that to
yourself,
don’t damage
the beautiful things
that only need
your stamp of approval.
The rain and wind
can’t love you
like I can.
Even without touching you
I am holding you.
Feel my arms.
Feel my arms of poetry.
You aren’t alone.
All the birds in the forest
filling up the trees with colors
are waiting for you
to look up from the ground.
Just like me.
Turn on the switch of life.
It works.
You aren’t alone,
come back.
But I’ll love you
while you’re there, too.
While you’re looking,
wordless,
out the window
through gray eyes,
those deep sad eyes.
I’ll love you
on sunless days.
I’ll wait.
But dancing by the sea is better,
by the laughing sea:
let’s go today
and feel the wetness of the world,
let’s walk into the same wave
holding hands,
let’s lie together on the same
warm beach
in the sun,
the healing sun.
Come back.
Come back.
Come back.
You’re my
golden calf.
Forget God,
there’s you.
I want to dance around
you
with my lust
of many layers,
with my depravity
that you make
holy.
Out of my prison window
I watched the moon.
It doesn’t matter
whose face I gave her,
she was always the most
beautiful one.
Through the moon
I loved them all
and I loved none.
I loved
the moon.
I always loved
the moon.
Il castrato
sings so beautifully.
His ruined life
gives him music.
Because she can only
be his sister
forever
his voice
torments the universe.
It is out of the reach
of angels.
They’d give up
their wings
to have his
voice,
he’d give up his voice
to have her.
Stop!
cried the lion
to the gazelle.
The gazelle
just ran.
She didn’t stop to listen.
Stop!
cried the lion again.
I’m not running after you
to devour you,
I’m running after you
because I’m in love.
But it was in her gazelle blood
to run.
How he wished he could
break out of his lion’s body,
become a dove,
or just grass on the plain
at her mercy.
That’s how much he loved her.
How the chase tormented him,
perplexed him;
but his lovesick eyes
could never seem to be
anything else to her
but the teeth
of other lions.
And he could not
run faster
than what they
had done.
Love eluded them both,
because she could not
let him
catch her.
Because of other lions.
It’s another one of those
platonic let-downs.
How I envy
the beasts
that just go in
like it was
Pearl Harbor,
get what they want
from the rough
night, and get out:
no victims,
just bodies on the same wavelength
of disillusionment.
How I envy them
and their confident satisfied swagger
after they are done,
like lions that have fed,
and no one runs from them:
no, night-covered faces
bow down to their
lack of complexity,
their insensitivity won’t run out
of accomplices.
Meanwhile,
here I am, my sensuality starving
like a concentration camp prisoner,
my joy emaciated,
the sad night of my soul
like a dying violinist
playing behind barbed wire:
while women tenderly cultivated
for years
vanish in a day,
and roses of poems
that opened for them
die
without the water
of their presence.
How could they be so disloyal
to my delusion?
A fool -
I’m just a fool -
inferior to thoughtless beasts
because I love;
and tonight
my gentleness
only seems like a form of castration,
the bodies and eyes were right
to pass me by.
Whoever embraces a whole soul?
Just pretend
and "whip it out."
I envy them
as my fragile untouched body cracks
and falls into pieces of unanswered longing.
For a moment, a ray of golden light
seemed to be saying thank you,
till you, too, were gone:
another platonic let-down.
Fleeing from the cold,
it seems we have secured the triumph
of a greater cold.
It is the end of time,
the last day on the planet
of love,
before eternal night,
before the dark ice
of merely using each other.
For a moment,
I thought we two might
stand against the dying sun,
in love.
But now you’re gone, too,
and I can’t stand against the darkness
alone.
It takes two.
It’s another platonic let-down.
And I’m dying out:
the last of my kind.
Without you:
the last of my kind.
Why couldn’t it be?
The hunchback fell in love
with the orphan.
The man with the crooked hand
fell in love with the lonely girl
on the shore.
The beast
loved the beauty.
The mortally empathetic monk,
imprisoned by the world’s pain,
fell in love
with the wild dancer
who stole him from his
sacred suffering,
he forgot that his love
was supposed to be for everyone,
not just her.
Why couldn’t it be?
The strange one on the unseen edge
fell in love
with the one
who moved the earth’s center,
he wrote poems
all night in his blood
for the light
that hid his soul’s longing
in its non-darkness.
The broken one
bowed down to the one that was whole,
the twisted one
to the one who lived
on the other side of the
moat of his
deformity,
which was
his refusal
to submit to his
worthlessness.
The limping one
loved the gazelle,
the blind one
fell in love with colors,
the deaf one
with a song,
the ugly one succumbed
to the angels in his heart,
and dared to believe
the queen would
let him in,
just because he felt it raining
on a clear day.
Why couldn’t it be?
You and me?
This asymmetrical love
that doesn’t add up,
that doesn’t make sense,
that blows through me like a fierce
storm, destroying me with life,
this hopeless mismatch
which is the flag that flies above
my loneliness, defending the secret value
of me
which is reflected by
the unattainable beauty of you.
Why couldn’t it be?
You’re too difficult.
What am I going to do,
live with a tidal wave?
Live with a hurricane?
Sleep under a volcano
in the path of lava,
build the fragile tower of
all my hopes and dreams
on top of your
earthquake?
My sensitive soul
and your lightning
don’t mix.
Your mercilessly interesting soul
is more than
a match
for my boundaryless
hemophiliac love.
I can see my death in your arms
foretold by just
the thought of a kiss.
The exposed coast
of wanting to please you
will be devoured
by the sea,
and there will only be me
dissolved in you.
No me,
just you,
despising me
for not being myself,
which you
would never let me be.
Demanding giants
in the real world
you kill
the closest things
to giants.
In that way,
you’ll kill me, too.
With my love,
you’ll kill me.
As soon as I put down
my pen.
I couldn’t live with you
any more than
a piece of wood
could live with fire.
You’re too difficult.
Inside this ring of ink
I can love you.
But I can’t live with you.
The moment I stop writing
I’ll die.
I don’t want to make you change
for me,
but the way you are,
I can’t survive.
You’re too difficult.
I’m doomed to love you
from behind a wall of poems.
You’re too difficult.
I love you,
but you’re too difficult.
There are as many different kinds
of love
as there are kinds of trees
in the forest.
There’s pine tree love
and birch love,
maple love
and oak love,
weeping willow love
and chestnut love,
elm love
and cypress love.
When you say, "I love you",
which love
do you mean?
How broad are its leaves?
How dark is its shade?
How tall does it grow?
How sweet is its sap?
How strong is its wood?
Does it have berries
or nuts?
How kind is it
to birds?
How strong is it in the wind?
How much does it need
the rain?
Does it think
of the plants below
and the sun they need?
How deep do its
roots go?
What do you mean
when you say,
"I love you"?
Stranger
walking into the room
with your funky hat,
your first-day face,
your beauty unpolluted
by a past,
by a no;
pure
and uncontaminated by
knowing me.
It’s my first day, too,
and I’m fresh
like new snow
just fallen
into the world
for you
to walk in.
The me who I could be
in your eyes
makes you
beautiful, too;
the radiance
of you opening up
for who I might be
makes you shine
above all others,
the ones who know me inside out;
the ones who lost their wings
by seeing me
on the ground.
There’s a moment of magic
in your newness,
like a river
going up a mountain,
all the laws of me and my life
have been broken
by your benevolent unfamiliarity,
by your willingness
to fill in the blanks
with longings brought from elsewhere,
to embellish me
with nights
that let you down
that you still
want to believe in.
In the sanctuary
of your innocence
there’s the chance to start again,
and that makes you
ravishing;
it’s what makes me able
to ignite
your beauty,
to make you
irresistible.
Stranger
walking into the room
with your funky hat,
your first-day face.
Hints,
and a smile
that’s like the sun
which clouds give
to the day
when they part.
Come quickly
before you find out:
before my magic,
which is the secret of your magic,
is broken
by you knowing.
By the time
she was ready
there was only a gravestone
to see.
The gravestone
of love
by the sea
between us.
She didn’t know herself
till I was gone.
Fear.
Guess I’ll try
for someone
beyond the hill.
I couldn’t stand
to lose you,
and not having you
is the safest way
to keep you.
Fear.
Can’t take the chance.
What if your eyes
changed,
what if I could never more
tell myself
you might.
What would the earth ever do
if the sun said
you’re not the one.
It’s too black and cold
to leave,
it’s better
to keep going in circles,
dreaming,
having you
and not having you.
Fear.
You’ve wrecked and saved me
without knowing it:
what if you couldn’t take
on that baggage?
What if I’m
just a tangent
in your time
of killing time,
what if my face
is the kind
you’d never
put up on your wall;
not even
a prison wall?
Fear.
It’s too great a gap to cross.
The chasm between
what I want
and what you deserve
frightens me,
it’s like the Grand Canyon.
Could I just hold your hand?
Could I just hold your hand?
It’s like
I was an infidel
asking
for the jewel
that
a religion
grew around,
the sacred worshipping place
of righteous, warrior nations:
sacrilege!
Though it’s only
inside of me
that it’s that way.
Fear.
Maybe it’s time for me
to die.
Maybe losing you
is the only way
of getting you.
Maybe
I’ve got outside and
inside mixed up.
Maybe fear
is the final test.
Maybe you’re the goal.
Or maybe you’re only
the rain
I need
to make me grow.
Fear is all
that stands in the way
of knowing.
Fear.
Fear and you
and me.
Fairy,
listen to the call!
If you can
really hear
my invisible need,
call me,
tell me,
I’m falling,
I’m falling,
I can’t hold on.
You’ll have to let me
know.
I’m beginning to leave.
One year in your world
is twenty years
in mine.
The hair of
my love
is white.
The moon is fleeing,
the magic
is following
the skeptic
back into the
book
where we were
never written.
Hurry,
beloved fairy!
Soon the door
will close
and Destiny
will play dumb
at our expense.
Love that is bestowed,
then dropped upon the ground,
is given to another:
there is no patience
among divine gift-givers
for those who don’t know
the moment.
And your sense of fairy-time
is freezing our love.
Covering it with snow and ice,
because nothing is colder
than time not used
by those who are fated
to die.
Beloved fairy,
I have been calling for you
all night long,
how many years
do you sleep
each century?
Our time
is nearly up.
The earth is cruel
to hearts
that fear
to know themselves.
I can’t stand
this ambiguity,
will one of you spit
on me already?!
Kick me and make it
clear!
Make it be impossible,
drive me away
from the gates
of your beauty
with an irrefutable sign,
let me turn one way
or the other.
Two angels
are too much
for one man,
like horses tearing
a prisoner apart
you are destroying me.
I can’t degrade one
by containing the other,
and I can’t dispossess either
without committing a crime.
Sacred deck,
let the card
of the right one
fall out, free me
to say,
"I love you",
without victims,
without betrayal,
without desertion,
let love be love,
beautiful,
the way it’s supposed to be,
without this pain,
without this doubt:
love, as clear as the choice
between life
and death.
For two years
I wore black.
I was in mourning
for all the life
I was passing by,
waiting for you.
Where I was
was dead
because
I had given
all my hope
to you.
But the sun of you
never rose, after I
put on the night;
after I blew out
every other light
not to spoil you arrival
by losing the dark
before you.
For years,
I made a habit
of losing everything
I had,
as fast as it could come to me
I threw it away.
Now, nothing’s left
except for the emptiness
of a world
I made empty
to make room
for you.
I didn’t want
what was in my hands,
I wanted you.
I didn’t know then
that you were the
goddess of the
wind.
I’m a merman,
I can only live
in the sea
of myself.
Which could
be the sea
of us
if you dared
to be free
by not holding
onto me.
I need my cold blue-green
world
that swims after horizons,
that splashing sky
I look up through
to see your shadow
searching
for me.
I need my lonely
continent
of waves,
my safety under storms,
and communion with the power
that you fear.
I need my
highways of currents
and my helmet of water,
which is the surface
you do not dare
to penetrate,
except with the white flowers
of your dangling feet
that seem lost,
uprooted and blown
from the shore.
While you were looking for me,
I watched you with tender
condescension:
your naked body
was like a sunlit cloud
in my world,
I looked up
and watched it passing by
from down in the dark
where you cannot see me,
clad in the mystery voices
of whales,
attended by nations of fish
of every color and shape,
by thoughts
that only the ocean
could allow.
I want you
but you are not of water made,
you are wounded by the land
to forever belong
to someone else.
Pavlov love.
That’s all I can see.
No, I need a door I can lock
with you on the outside.
You can ring the bell
to get in.
Pavlov love.
That’s all I can see.
The best I ever had,
and then
divine punishment
for having dared
to interrupt your sorrow.
Pavlov love.
That’s all I can see.
Never knowing how long the day
will last
before you decide
to become the night.
Like an artist,
never satisfied,
you can’t help
but destroy
what you wrote
yesterday;
to make it better,
you have to
kill it.
Such fierce cycles
of creation and destruction
usually take eternity,
but you can do it all
in an hour,
make the world green
and then drown it in a
flood
for the sin of
making you happy;
or the sin of reminding you
that you can never
be happy.
Pavlov love.
Cursed by my
ability to see
through storm clouds,
I came close enough
to you
to be destroyed.
I didn’t feel the thorns,
I only saw
you
like a treasure
I wanted to give back to itself.
I didn’t feel the thorns,
I made it all the way
to the serpent
that protects you
from being loved.
Pavlov love.
That’s all I can see.
I’m in love with you,
but I know
I have to stop.
I have to stop
because one half of you
wants me to go away,
and I can’t rape one half of you
just to worship
the other half.
Pavlov love.
I’m going mad.
I’m going mad.
That’s how good you are,
and how bad.
I’ve got to stop.
I’ve got to stop.
Close the door.
There’s got to be a door
between us.
You can visit,
but there’s got to be a door
between us.
Pavlov love.
I’m going mad.
There’s got to be a door
between us.
Burned-out worker,
that’s all I am.
What do you expect?
I buzz my wings,
bleed a drop of honey
for the queen
and go to death.
Each night
I go to death.
Not to you,
but to the dark nothing
that gives me new days,
new days of
landing on flowers
that God lost.
The colors
are like a desert now,
whole horizons
of my stolen love for you,
I see your hurt,
and it kills me like the cold.
Please, don’t let me hurt you!
Please!
I haven’t passed you by,
it’s just that there’s nothing
in between
the pointless flying
and the death
that makes me able
to live uselessly.
The dark honeycomb
wants the sweetness
of my flower-mocked
persistence,
my honey
used to come from flowers,
but now it’s coming
from my disintegrating soul,
I’m fading away
into the honey
others will eat
and there’s nothing left for you,
not from me.
Go to the queen,
my love,
win her,
she has the cruelty that spawns
munificence.
You’ll find a part of me
in her generosity,
taste what I brought for you
from her table.
I can’t help you,
my love,
only anger you;
with my buzzing,
poison your solitude.
I’m a burned-out
worker, that’s all I am.
You need another
caste of bee.
You need golden honey
in your mouth,
not the bottomless beauty
of a life
that is nothing
more
than an
excuse.
Stay away from Thor’s frozen hammer,
his sudden drop in temperature
is a weapon
that will cover
your heart with ice.
It will take the
love out of love,
leave a substanceless word
to live for, and die for.
You’ll know what it’s like
to be a frost giant.
You’ll see the world
in a different way:
after his hammer
strikes you
on the unprotected heights
of intimacy.
Are you this way,
or is it the world
on your shoulders?
Should I stay away,
or love you
until gold
pours from my heart,
till the broken warrior
returns
to redeem you?
Will you be different
on the throne of my love?
Will you be different
with bracelets of us
singing on your arms?
Is the dark anger
your heart,
or the weight?
Should I cross the river
to you,
just in case?
I’m lost in the labyrinth of you.
Don’t take it personally
if I speak of
dark things
because I also speak
of your light.
Your light,
with darkness,
is brighter
than their light.
How I hate
simple golden suns
that only shine!
I’m lost in the labyrinth of you.
Don’t take it personally
if I speak of monsters
as well as queens,
every ocean
needs its demons,
every journey needs its storms.
Your worthiness,
surviving such catastrophes
of love,
cannot be
doubted.
I’m lost in the labyrinth of you.
Don’t take it personally
if I can’t find my way
to my heart,
it’s because
you’re too beautiful to lose,
searching forever
is better than
finding out
that you don’t love me.
I’m lost in the labyrinth of you.
I don’t need a life,
because I have the beauty of
not knowing where I am.
Inside you,
the compass points
to me,
because
I love you
like you
should love
yourself.
Though I can’t say it,
you feel it,
which means
it’s not just
selfish.
I’m lost in the labyrinth of you.
There’s no end to
this game of me wandering
and you hiding yourself
by turning yourself
into endless corridors.
I’ll never lose interest,
the pain of not having you
is washed away
by almost having you,
the tension of not knowing you
is relieved
by the wonder of
not being able to know you,
I stand in awe
of your difficulty.
I’m lost in the labyrinth of you:
unknowable,
and unable not to be loved.
I’m lost in the labyrinth of you.
Cockroach love
so dirty
crawling on the floor.
Why don’t you
love in the sun?
Cockroach love
so sad
feeding on crumbs.
Dark holes
are your home,
you feel around
like a drunk
for things that
are close enough;
your world
is the twisted hovel
hidden in the cracks
they don’t even want
to see.
But you have
to have
that feeling, too.
So you love,
in spite
of yourself.
Cockroach love
so dirty
crawling on the floor.
Why don’t you love
in the sun?
Why won’t she come?
Why does she give you
only shadows
of herself,
dark substitutes,
ecstasies of impatience
by the green door
that never opened?
In the dirt
of not having her,
you fall to pieces,
feed yourself to
travesties of love
that are
the opposite
of your dream
of being with her.
Under the stove,
behind the wall,
beyond a woman’s
singing
in the morning,
you wear dust,
and drive yourself
farther away from her
every day
of trying
to survive
without her.
You know, now,
that you are
a cockroach,
if she ever comes
it will be too late.
Cockroach love
so dirty
crawling on the floor.
Why couldn’t you love
in the sun?
Why didn’t she come?
Cat sees a mouse,
you don’t matter,
you’re interrupted
by before you:
the essence
you can’t supersede.
In a flash
your face
is out of the picture,
his leaping loyalty
to life,
as God
gave it to him,
leaves you
hurt and alone
unless
you understand
that you will always be
second
to that
sacred fatal moment:
cat soul ground,
no human feet
allowed.
Before your love was
invented,
and more sure than love,
is getting it himself.
Cat waiting on mouse.
This is the way
I go after poems.
This is why
the friend of a poet
must love to read books
late into the night
by the light
of his own lamp.
Cat will come to bed
when he’s ready.
There’s a whole language
that we’re missing.
The language of the body.
Sometimes
there’s nothing I can say to you
that’s not too strong
too weak
too loud
too awkward
too inaccurate
too irrelevant
too late
too cold.
Too little,
like a few raindrops
that only leave the desert
thirstier.
Too much,
like a landslide
that uses up
a whole mountain
to say
I'm here.
Wrong.
Just wrong.
I can’t put it right.
Not with words,
even though
I made them my whole life.
We need to speak, now,
in the language of the body,
to take the next step,
or what I have to say to you
will never get said.
We need to
find a whole new instrument
to hear each other with,
a whole new range of sound:
the drums of words
are dying without the
piano of a hand.
I could say so much to you
with the music of touching,
the language of love without a voice,
running up and down
your body,
the silent words
of my soul
reaching for you through flesh,
to fill in all the gaps
between our words
and say everything
that’s been left unsaid.
You’ll never know how much I love you,
you’ll never know
how beautiful you are,
till we dare to
fill the darkness
with ourselves,
to finally speak in
this sacred precious
tongue.
What comes first,
the chicken or the egg?
The woman,
or the man?
The healing storm of love
to destroy
the aimless ship
and wash the damned sailor
onto the beach
of his true
capabilities?
Or the distant prize
waiting for the outcome of
the battle,
for the ruined man
to make himself
be great in her eyes,
to crush his faults,
thrash naked
through the thorn-barbed
thickets of his weaknesses
all the way to her?
What comes first,
the chicken or the egg?
Should I ask her now
to take me there,
or do I have to get there
first?
What comes first,
the chicken or the egg?
Should I fall
wounded, by her window
or come
riding to her on my horse?
What if she has
my horse,
if it’s in her eyes
and hands?
What comes first,
the chicken or the egg?
Does being with her make me great,
or needing her?
Do I save her
by being saved by her
or do I save myself
so I can save her?
Is she the mother of my light,
or the child of my light?
What comes first,
the chicken or the egg?
Does she invest in me,
and raise my value
with her trust,
or do I have to be
counted, like cash up front,
and placed directly in her hand?
Are her arms the
place where the man
she wants
is created,
or is loneliness
the only trumpet
which can call him forth?
What comes first,
the chicken or the egg?
I love her,
but I don’t know
when the time will be right;
and I don’t know
how to be
what she deserves.
What comes first,
the chicken or the egg?
You Were Afraid Of Your Feelings
Afraid of your feelings?
Sorry.
I’m sorry you
had to hide.
I’m sorry you
couldn’t say it,
couldn’t come
when the door was open.
Now it’s closed.
I looked at you
and looked at you,
I tried to see you,
just in case
your stillness
was a lie,
but all I could see
was a beautiful stone
that I could never move.
Your smile
wore out
after a time,
because nothing seemed to be
behind it
except a smile,
and being your friend
was never what I wanted
if that was all
it could be.
You were
too bright an object
in the sky
for that:
and the light you accidentally
gave me
began to kill me
because I wasn’t
the one
who inspired you to shine.
I was just there.
A friend.
How could I tell
what was in your depths
for me
when you didn’t know yourself
till now,
when you tried to
smother it
with your desperate lack of
self-perception?
But now
it’s too late.
Love won’t
ever hurt you again,
you wouldn’t let it.
Only your safety
remains to destroy you, now.
And I’m sorry.
So sorry -
for both of us -
but
you hid the card
I needed to see
in the deck of
what happened
to you long ago
and it will never
happen to you again,
whatever it was,
you made sure of that
through me.
And it’s been good
knowing you,
which was really not
knowing you:
my beautiful lonely hermit,
shielded
in the stone
called light.
You’ve done nothing wrong
except be beautiful.
I’ve done nothing wrong
except be lonely.
The pain
isn’t anybody’s fault.
Everything comes to an end,
even things
that never began.
I send you my love
across the sea
of what
never was.
Glass-bottom boat
look at the sea
glass-bottom man
look into me
My poems reveal
what other men hide -
is that why we died?
Incriminating myself
is my way of life,
giving you this gun
is how I stay alive.
Use my words
to end it.
The river
never stops flowing,
when you stop time
you make an ending
that doesn’t exist.
But it really doesn’t matter now,
it’s over.
Glass-bottom man
is somewhere else…
the ocean will never stop
looking into him.
Great runner,
Fumble Hands.
You dazzle
your arena
with fire on the grass,
then lose the ball
right by the goal line;
it’s like
you want to show yourself
that you could,
if you wanted to.
Why don’t you
want to?
You don’t look
that happy, now.
Why don’t you want
what you really want?
Let me want you,
Fumble Hands,
don’t drop me,
let me want you
and change
the way you
play the game.
I have lots of doubts,
reservations,
second thoughts
that come before
first thoughts,
I question this love
and try to contain it,
see through it,
expose it for what
it isn’t,
but my love is too strong,
it keeps going,
dragging all dire prophecies behind it,
like cans and ribbons
behind a car
of newlyweds.
Let me be alone in the attic.
I’ll play my organ of poetry
hunchback-style,
you’ll never see me,
the one who haunts
the dark mirror
of my inner mind,
the one who never got up
after the bomb fell on him.
But he can love,
yes, he can love,
as long as you don’t see him,
as long as you don’t make him
shrivel up
by opening the door
of his terrible wounds.
Don’t remind him of his wormhood,
don’t drive him back
into the mud
of believing he is nothing more than
what they did to him.
Don’t destroy the trance
of you
by bringing him back,
to face himself
through your eyes,
your horror
that struggles to be
sympathy.
Pretend you don’t notice
he is writing
about you
with his last drops
of blood.
Let him die in peace.
Let him be a voyeur
of your indifference.
Let him die
with the beauty of
words that were never
told no (which always begins
with yes).
Let him die in peace.
Neglected,
undisturbed by hope,
in peace…
Let him die
outside your locked door.
Let him die in peace.
Yo-yo
up and down
up and down
that’s how it goes
with you
up and down
up and down
you play with me
all day
and night
but not the way
I like
up and down
up and down.
On and on
it goes.
But after a while
the string gets tangled.
It always happens
doesn’t it?
And the yo-yo
doesn’t come back
into your hand
no more.
Up and down
up and down
Up till now
I’m your yo-yo
up and down.
But sooner or later
the string gets tangled.
It always happens,
doesn’t it?
And one day
I won’t come back
No more up and down
up and down
up and down
Your hand will wait
for me
and I won’t come
No more up and down
Yo-yo’s got a strange form
of dignity
built right into it
No more up and down.
I don’t need you.
Any of you.
My step is a man’s step
that doesn’t depend upon
a woman.
In the end,
a woman doesn’t make
a man.
A woman
doesn’t prove
a man.
You used to make me weak
by being there
while I was here,
by making me crave
and fear you
with a beauty
beyond understanding,
with a beauty
that followed no rules
and wouldn’t wait.
I ran after you,
bled my pride out onto the ground,
praying for you
to lower the drawbridge
of love,
but your inscrutable smile
would not descend
to give me any choice
between loneliness
and the possibility of incineration -
which might be bliss.
Your lips hid behind
one of seven doors,
the others all were death.
And suddenly,
your lack of a hint
reminded me
of things
that came before you,
of the time I was only a boy
with wild harp and sword
walking beside men
on the road to the freedom of death;
you alone would be the equal
of my whole green land,
my troubled race,
call up my martyrdom
for your eyes only,
for your thoughts,
your face?
Beautiful you are,
but my blood can flow
to higher places
than you,
I can make my wounds matter
more than your rejection.
I can orchestrate my own death
without your
ravishing storm
or your coldness,
without your knife-sharp indifference
plunged into my helpless trust that you would
make me be a man.
I can be a man
without you,
I was before you,
and I can make it be so, again,
as when I sang to warriors
and picked up the sword
of my fallen father
to do battle
for broken people,
in broken lands:
for people like you,
worth dying for
as long as someone else
was there to love you.
No more a slave,
a half-man
because you are not mine,
I can leave you behind,
leave behind the tension of wondering
if you will ever build me,
rescue my self-respect
from your uncaring arms
that let me drop, each night,
into the oblivion
of sleeping in my bed
when yours is so close;
I can be a man again
without you,
on my terms,
without your kiss,
without your love,
as solitary as a mountain on a plain,
I don’t need you.
Things that came before you
make me a man.
My wild harp and sword, my songs,
and death for things
that are not you.
Things that came before you
make me a man.
A beautiful man
with wounds that don’t need to be
healed,
a beautiful man
wearing loneliness and pride,
instead of your ring.
Things that came before you
make me able
to live without you.
Things that came before you
make me a man.
Manatee
Manatee
I fell in love
with a manatee.
But it was the ship.
It was the ship to blame,
and the many miles of the sea:
what the sea did to me.
And that’s how
I fell in love
with a manatee.
"You have a beautiful mind,
a beautiful generous mind," they told me,
"you gave her a mermaid
for her birthday:
the manatee.
You gave her the jewels
of your eyes that would not see,
you gave up your sight
to set her free.
You gave birth to a mermaid
with your love-lost needs.
What was only mist and waves
and your loneliness
let her be;
and let her
break your heart.
You made her too great for you:
and then she dove back down
beneath the sea."
Manatee
Manatee
I fell in love
with a manatee.
But it was the ship.
It was the ship to blame:
and the many miles of the sea,
what the sea did to me.
And that’s how
I fell in love
with a manatee.
Maybe’s killing me
Baby Maybe
She’s shooting me down with waiting
Maybe’s harder
than yes or no
I can’t live holding on
but every time I’m about to let it go
her maybe eyes turn on again
to light this darkened heart with her;
to resurrect the confusion of my soul.
And she doesn’t want me
She only wants me to be around -
just in case
That’s my place:
just in case.
Maybe’s killing me
Baby Maybe
She’s shooting me down with waiting
And no one loves her like I do
but she doesn’t see it
She doesn’t care, she lives in castles
in the air
with everyone but me
until the princes die
until the clouds won’t hold her up.
That’s when she comes falling back to me
with the chain of maybe.
And she doesn’t want me
She only wants me to be around -
just in case.
That’s my place:
just in case.
Maybe’s killing me
Baby Maybe
She’s shooting me down with waiting
Maybe’s killing me
Baby Maybe
Bye Bye Baby Maybe
I think that it’s time to say
Bye Bye Baby Maybe
Time to go to the land of
yes or no
Time for just-in case man
to get up and go
But you’re so good, Baby Maybe
Yes, so fine Baby Maybe
Please help me, God
Please help me get past Baby Maybe
Should two wounds come together
or should two wounds stay apart?
Are two wounds uniting
wombs,
or rooms of torture
in the heart?
Can my wound heal yours,
can your wound heal mine,
does like love like, and heal like,
or can down
only be saved
by high?
Should our two wounds join hands
and walk together
down these cold and lonely streets,
do two holes make a whole
or only make each other
more incomplete?
Should two wounds come together,
should you give your love to me?
Should I trust my hurt to you?
Will we finish each other off
or set each other free?
You made your choice
on a dark and windy night
and it wasn’t me
it wasn’t me
You chose him
cause you thought he had the wings
When I saw you smile that way
I knew how little you thought of me
and it could never be the same
You made your choice
on a dark and windy night
and it wasn’t me
it wasn’t me
You jumped ship
cause you thought he was going towards your dream
but it was only one night of drug-addict love
you were his morphine
But it was enough to let me know
you’re not the one for me
cause I wasn’t the one for you
You made your choice
on a dark and windy night
and it wasn’t me
it wasn’t me
You made your choice
on a dark and windy night
and it wasn’t me
it wasn’t me
And now we can’t go back
because I see
You made your choice
on a dark and windy night
and it wasn’t me
it wasn’t me
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
Why are you making this mess
in my heart
Why are you making me guess
if it’s worthwhile
or if I’m just losing my time?
Signs say stop or go
Traffic lights are green or red
You don’t say nothing, fast or slow
If you got to say no, say no,
But why don’t you say yes?
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
This isn’t how it was supposed to be
when I saw you, lightning struck down my past
and the card you drew was me
but since then, we’ve been disrespecting Destiny
And being alone, now, is worse than ever
Cause we’re living in the ruins of forever
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
Yes won’t make the queen dirty
won’t make the palace break
and your soul won’t fly away
Full moon don’t always make a wolf man,
sometimes love doesn’t have to be second-guessed
Why don’t you just say yes?
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
Will you just say yes,
goddammit,
will you just say yes?
Please say yes
Please say yes
Please say yes
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
Drown the me I hate
Baptize the me I love
and have never been
Wash her away
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
I’m not a fish
but I want you anyway
to be in you
to breathe you
or die
I can only be me
covered by you
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
Drown the me I hate
Baptize the me I love
and have never been
Wash her away
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
And the sea come
and roll over me
The boy just grew up
don’t need a mamma no more
to tell him what to do
little boy days are through
Give you all my respect
take my hat off for you
but don’t need a mamma
to tell me what to do
Big Boss is over
So is mamma and her knee
If I ain’t the king
you ain’t the queen
ain’t bowing down no more to the mamma
in you
I just got my warrior name
Spread my wings in the dark wind
Standing tall for the first time
because losing you
is on the side of my road
and you can’t make me stay in anymore
With all due respect
with all due respect
the mamma-little boy game is at an end
I grew up today
when I caught myself looking up
at someone who didn’t even love me
And I heard God saying
Today you are a man
And I heard God saying
Today you are a man
Past mammas
past mammas
with all due respect
the man sky is calling
God said
it’s your decision
it’s your decision
Little Boy over
Little Boy over
Little Boy over
Today you are a man
God before mammas
Today you are a man
Wearin you,
is like an iron dress
Want to take you off
and get some rest
Want to break free
of this fantasy,
spread my wings into a
lesser form of misery
And flying there -
I mean in reality,
in the lowest sky,
almost crawling -
is better than being on a shining star
with you.
How else could I express
what you put me through -
and who you are.
An empty bottle
no more wine
now it’s finally
love-to-hate time
Yeah, let it out
unlock our room
my blood’s coming out
of both our wounds
An empty bottle
no more wine
now it’s finally
love-to-hate time
But words are cheap
next to this pain
let the world eavesdrop
on this mental rain
[guitarra]
Wearin you
is like an iron dress
Want to take you off
and get some rest
yeah, want to take you off
and get some rest
yeah, want to take you off
and get some rest
I don’t care
if you like me
I don’t care
if you hate me
I don’t care
if you love me
I’m me
I don’t care
if you stay
I don’t care
if you leave
I don’t care
if we’re friends
I’m free
You’re not my judge
and I won’t be my executioner
I’m my own shining sun
and I don’t need to
be your planet
Your gravity will never beat my soul
Your pat on the back
won’t neutralize me
or your eyes
that hit like fists
What’s underneath your clothes
will never make me
give up
my own form of beauty.
How could I ever let dreams of you
make me
give up
dreams of me?
I don’t care
if you like me
I don’t care
if you hate me
I don’t care
if you love me
I’m me
I don’t care
if you stay
I don’t care
if you leave
I don’t care
if we’re friends
I’m free
So - what do you say -
want to go out anyway?
If I Ever Get A Chance Again (Lyrics)
If I ever get a chance again
won’t let this happen
if I ever get a chance again
if I ever get a chance again
Won’t end up this way
No way
if I ever get a chance again
If I ever get this load off of my back
ever get away from my past
ever escape from my mistake
ever get another break
If I ever get a chance again
won’t let this happen
if I ever get a chance again
if I ever get a chance again
Won’t end up this way
No way
if I ever get a chance again
If I ever come back to this fork in the road
if a door ever opens up for my soul
if fate comes knocking, this time I’ll know
if we ever meet again, I won’t say no
If I ever get a chance again
won’t let this happen
if I ever get a chance again
if I ever get a chance again
Won’t end up this way
No way
if I ever get a chance again
One wrong move, and it’s passed
Blink your eye, and the world comes to an end
Things you thought were forever break like glass
And the way you thought it was doesn’t happen again
Be prepared to live!
Be prepared to live!
Every day, be prepared to live!
Or life might take you by surprise, and flash right by your eyes
If I ever get a chance again
won’t let this happen
if I ever get a chance again
if I ever get a chance again
Won’t end up this way
No way
if I ever get a chance again
If I ever get a chance again
won’t let this happen
if I ever get a chance again
if I ever get a chance again
Won’t end up this way
No way
if I ever get a chance again
The Forest, The Trees, And Me (Lyrics)
She didn’t like one fish
she blew up the sea
She didn’t like one leaf
she cut down the tree
She saw everything wrong about me
She didn’t see the forest for the trees
And a great soul flew away
As the night just stood there,
waiting for the day
She didn’t like one hair
she cut off my head
She didn’t like one word
she left the book unread
And what I felt never got said
Before love was born, it was dead
And a great soul flew away
As the night just stood there,
waiting for the day
Why, why
these little cuts?
Why, why
this unjust blood?
The only perfect journey
is the one that was never made
‘cause always steps get in the way
of how you think it’s supposed to be
And she couldn’t see the forest for the trees
And a great soul flew away
As the night just stood there,
waiting for the day
Just to let you know
the battery of my beeper’s low
the battery of my beeper’s low
Might not get your call, girl
might not call you back
Winter’s chill is on the city
like a ski mask on a thug
chill that needs love
more than you have
cause only you makes you glad
Low cell
Low cell
Thanks for being
such a sweet Hell
Low Cell
Low Cell
All’s well
that ends well
And when love goes bad
all’s well that ends
Making pictures on the icy windows
thinking of summer days
Honeymoon just got in the way
of saving ourselves a lot of pain
And it’s too cold for rain
The ice of our lives
is falling right in front of our eyes
It’s like the world
was holding a mirror up to our hearts
Why’d we start?
Everything was fine
when we were bystanders of each other
Why’d we think we could be "The Lovers"?
And it’s cold out there
It’s cold out there
It’s cold out there
Sad thing is, it’s just as cold in here
Sad thing is, it’s just as cold in here
And I’ve got to tell you one more time
Just to let you know
the battery of my beeper’s low
the battery of my beeper’s low
Might not get your call girl,
might not call you back
Coming next to you,
love died.
Not because of you.
Because of her.
The one who squeezed the trigger
long ago.
The bullet of her hate
passed through your body
as we embraced.
She killed you and me
with one shot,
we died in each others’ arms,
just as lovers should,
but without love:
because the past
ambushed today.
No, I never blamed you
for things you did or said,
the bullet didn’t come from you,
it came through you
from her.
But still, we’re dead.
Killed by the same bullet.
Your blood and mine mingling
in the life
we’ll never have.
A perfect lovers’ end
by the sea of her envy.
We could not rise above the destruction
but, even so, we won,
because we would have
been perfect together.
Killed by the same bullet.
I never blamed you
for things you did or said.
I just fled
from the open door
of our waiting home,
the child who was going
to call you "mommy",
mourning
for the half of me
I never knew I didn’t have
till I met you.
Till the bullet said "too bad."
Killed by the same bullet.
I know it wasn’t you.
It was her.
Her against us.
Even though we were two,
she was too much,
cause you were too young.
Killed by the same bullet.
And now it’s done.
But I’ll always treasure this loss,
because we would have been
beautiful together.
And if I’d had more blood,
I would have paid the cost.
Once upon a time
I wasn’t ruined
Once upon a time
I was good enough for you
Once upon a time
I could stand on my own two feet
Once upon a time
could be again for you
Once upon a time
I could sing like a nightingale
Once upon a time
I could do what heroes do
Once upon a time
I could shine like the sun above
Once upon a time
could be again for you
Once upon a time
I could fly like an eagle in the sky
Once upon a time
I didn’t doubt the things I knew
Once upon a time
my heart was filled with hope
Once upon a time
could be again for you
Sometimes there’s no reason
for the sun to shine
Why rise if the world’s blind?
Then you see someone who’s dying
because they don’t have you
because you don’t have yourself
And you can feel the light
trying to come back to life
Save and be saved are just different sides
of the same coin
Even if you don’t want me
you can raise me from the dead
Just by seeing that I’m not
Once upon a time
I was like a mountain by the road
Once upon a time
I was like a canyon with a river roaring through
Once upon a time
my heart was a kingdom for two
Once upon a time
could be again for you
Yes, once upon a time
could be again for you
Subtly suicidal,
won’t point a gun to
my head,
but there’s so many ways
to be dead.
So many cliffs
not to jump off of,
so many rooms
that are fatally safe,
so many excuses
to look the other way
when fate’s beautiful face
is interested.
So many mirrors to choose
to distort you
into inadequacy;
so many shades of darkness
to hide in,
hoping that the beast
of life won’t notice.
So many golden ropes
not to climb,
so many books of greatness
not to believe in,
to surrender to the black vaults
of first opinions.
So many wounds
to avoid
in reverence
to old wounds.
So many ways to watch
the time pass,
the clock run out,
losing the harvest
of the day
by running from the night,
which is inevitable.
So many comfortable forms of
foolishness, so many ways
to misspend the day before
the execution.
Subtly suicidal.
No one intervenes, no one
sees.
I’m killing myself
right in front of your eyes.
I’m blowing my brains out
in a whisper.
I’m hanging myself
from the tree of seeming to be all right.
But it’s not all right,
not for me.
Subtly suicidal.
Only inner spirits
remain to save
me now.
Spirits that know
who I can be.
Spirits, haunt me with my
true soul!
They don’t see!
Subtly suicidal.
Succumbing to this
quiet deadliness.
The peace of Sunday morning
is blowing up inside me.
Inner gunfights rage
protected by silence:
the meditating angel
that suffocates
the dark horses of agony
who know the way to the
sacred idiosyncrasy.
The fatal pretending
is like a gunshot wound
in the abdomen,
inflicted by my delusion
of rising above
happiness.
What a great distance there is between us:
for them dying looks like life!
Am I the only one
drowning on land?
Subtly suicidal.
Finger’s on the trigger,
and they don’t see.
And I only have one season left,
not to die
by my own hand.
Many times
through the years’ long thread,
when hope seemed shattered
and dreams seemed dead,
and clouds were blacker than black:
In those lightless years
Beauty fled back home,
it could not countenance such grief.
And nothing was left to stand against the darkness
except the power of belief:
the inner power of my land,
that my land passed on to me.
Whether it was a rebel’s head
upon a stake,
or a fair green valley by graves disgraced,
or one man poor, below a vomitorium
on a hill:
the end never reached the end,
before the beginning drove it back again,
into the sea of cruelty from
whence it came.
Love was always stronger,
like a mother’s voice
calling out a child’s name:
the love below the land, and in the man.
Always, after war and famine,
love betrayed, and the mind’s towers tumbled -
in the darkness that covered all and reigned -
the power of belief remained -
inextinguishable in the hearts of ancestors
long dead and gone,
whose spirit yet lives on
in my own heart’s constant dawn,
unfathomable enemy of the night.
Note it well:
"No Surrender" is written in our hearts.
No matter what you took from them,
and take from me,
you’ll never get in deep enough
to break or steal what keeps us,
and has always kept us, on our feet.
God Bless it, forever:
the holy power
of our belief.