POEMS/LYRICS BY JRS XV

 

A CONFUSION OF INSPIRATIONS

 

Three

Love And Light

Your Breeze Of Love

Intersecting Lines

Darkness Day Woman

The Golden Calf

I Loved The Moon

Il Castrato

The Lion And The Gazelle

Another Platonic Let-Down

Why Couldnít It Be?

Youíre Too Difficult

The Different Kinds Of Love

Stranger

The Gravestone Of Love

Fear

Fairy, Listen!

Love And Ambiguity

Goddess Of The Wind

Merman

Pavlov Love

Burned-Out Worker

Thorís Frozen Hammer

You, Or Your Weight?

The Labyrinth Of You

Cockroach Love

Poetry Cat Hunt

A Missing Language

The Chicken Or The Egg?

You Were Afraid Of Your Feelings

Good-Bye To A Dream

Glass-Bottom Boat Man

Fumble Hands Girl

Love And Dire Prophecies

Let Me Die In Peace

Yo-Yo

Things That Came Before You

Manatee

Baby Maybe (Lyrics)

Two Wounds

You Made Your Choice (Lyrics)

Will You Say Yes? (Lyrics)

And The Sea Come (Lyrics)

The Boy Grew Up (Lyrics)

Iron Dress (Lyrics)

I Donít Care (Lyrics)

If I Ever Get A Chance Again (Lyrics)

The Forest And The Trees And Me (Lyrics)

Low Cell Beeper (Lyrics)

Killed With The Same Bullet

Once Upon A Time (Lyrics)

Subtly Suicidal

The Power Of Belief

 

 

 

Three

 

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 couldnít

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 sheíd stayed in town

for more than one night at a time,

if sheíd 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 doesnít

believe in

death.

 

Three.

The holy three.

Blessed is the number three.

The number

of my sorrow.

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Love And Light

 

Old and new,

neither right,

crashed together

in the night:

and left,

in their place,

only love and light.

 

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Your Breeze Of Love

 

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.

 

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Intersecting Lines

 

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?

 

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Darkness Day Woman

 

 

I can weather the storm

of you

to be with the sun

of you.

Donít let the dark day

carry you all the way

away,

donít go past the point of

no return,

even though

you can still return.

Donít do that to

yourself,

donít damage

the beautiful things

that only need

your stamp of approval.

The rain and wind

canít love you

like I can.

 

Even without touching you

I am holding you.

 

Feel my arms.

Feel my arms of poetry.

 

You arenít 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 arenít alone,

come back.

 

But Iíll love you

while youíre there, too.

 

While youíre looking,

wordless,

out the window

through gray eyes,

those deep sad eyes.

Iíll love you

on sunless days.

Iíll wait.

But dancing by the sea is better,

by the laughing sea:

letís go today

and feel the wetness of the world,

letís walk into the same wave

holding hands,

letís lie together on the same

warm beach

in the sun,

the healing sun.

 

Come back.

 

Come back.

 

Come back.

 

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The Golden Calf

 

Youíre my

golden calf.

Forget God,

thereís you.

I want to dance around

you

with my lust

of many layers,

with my depravity

that you make

holy.

 

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I Loved The Moon

 

Out of my prison window

I watched the moon.

It doesnít 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.

 

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Il Castrato

 

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.

Theyíd give up

their wings

to have his

voice,

heíd give up his voice

to have her.

 

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The Lion And The Gazelle

 

Stop!

cried the lion

to the gazelle.

 

The gazelle

just ran.

She didnít stop to listen.

 

Stop!

cried the lion again.

Iím not running after you

to devour you,

Iím running after you

because Iím in love.

 

But it was in her gazelle blood

to run.

 

How he wished he could

break out of his lionís body,

become a dove,

or just grass on the plain

at her mercy.

Thatís 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.

 

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Another Platonic Let-Down

 

Itís 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 wonít 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 -

Iím 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 youíre gone, too,

and I canít stand against the darkness

alone.

It takes two.

 

Itís another platonic let-down.

And Iím dying out:

the last of my kind.

 

Without you:

the last of my kind.

 

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Why Couldnít It Be?

 

Why couldnít 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 worldís 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 couldnít it be?

The strange one on the unseen edge

fell in love

with the one

who moved the earthís center,

he wrote poems

all night in his blood

for the light

that hid his soulís 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 couldnít it be?

You and me?

This asymmetrical love

that doesnít add up,

that doesnít 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 couldnít it be?

 

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Youíre Too Difficult

 

Youíre 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

donít 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,

youíll kill me, too.

With my love,

youíll kill me.

As soon as I put down

my pen.

 

I couldnít live with you

any more than

a piece of wood

could live with fire.

 

Youíre too difficult.

 

Inside this ring of ink

I can love you.

But I canít live with you.

The moment I stop writing

Iíll die.

 

I donít want to make you change

for me,

but the way you are,

I canít survive.

Youíre too difficult.

 

Iím doomed to love you

from behind a wall of poems.

 

Youíre too difficult.

 

I love you,

but youíre too difficult.

 

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The Different Kinds Of Love

 

There are as many different kinds

of love

as there are kinds of trees

in the forest.

Thereís 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"?

 

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Stranger

 

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.

Itís my first day, too,

and Iím 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.

Thereís 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

thereís the chance to start again,

and that makes you

ravishing;

itís 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

thatís 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.

 

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The Gravestone Of Love

 

By the time

she was ready

there was only a gravestone

to see.

The gravestone

of love

by the sea

between us.

She didnít know herself

till I was gone.

 

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Fear

 

Fear.
Guess Iíll try

for someone

beyond the hill.

I couldnít stand

to lose you,

and not having you

is the safest way

to keep you.

 

Fear.

Canít 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

youíre not the one.

Itís too black and cold

to leave,

itís better

to keep going in circles,

dreaming,

having you

and not having you.

 

Fear.

Youíve wrecked and saved me

without knowing it:

what if you couldnít take

on that baggage?

What if Iím

just a tangent

in your time

of killing time,

what if my face

is the kind

youíd never

put up on your wall;

not even

a prison wall?

 

Fear.

Itís too great a gap to cross.

The chasm between

what I want

and what you deserve

frightens me,

itís like the Grand Canyon.

Could I just hold your hand?

Could I just hold your hand?

Itís like

I was an infidel

asking

for the jewel

that

a religion

grew around,

the sacred worshipping place

of righteous, warrior nations:

sacrilege!

Though itís only

inside of me

that itís that way.

 

Fear.

Maybe itís time for me

to die.

Maybe losing you

is the only way

of getting you.

Maybe

Iíve got outside and

inside mixed up.

 

Maybe fear

is the final test.

 

Maybe youíre the goal.

 

Or maybe youíre 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.

 

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Fairy, Listen!

 

Fairy,

listen to the call!

If you can

really hear

my invisible need,

call me,

tell me,

Iím falling,

Iím falling,

I canít hold on.

Youíll have to let me

know.

Iím 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 donít 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.

 

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Love And Ambiguity

 

I canít 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 canít degrade one

by containing the other,

and I canít 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 itís supposed to be,

without this pain,

without this doubt:

love, as clear as the choice

between life

and death.

 

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Goddess Of The Wind

 

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, nothingís left

except for the emptiness

of a world

I made empty

to make room

for you.

I didnít want

what was in my hands,

I wanted you.

I didnít know then

that you were the

goddess of the

wind.

 

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Merman

 

Iím 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.

 

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Pavlov Love

 

Pavlov love.

Thatís 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.

Thatís all I can see.

The best I ever had,

and then

divine punishment

for having dared

to interrupt your sorrow.

 

Pavlov love.

Thatís 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 canít 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 didnít feel the thorns,

I only saw

you

like a treasure

I wanted to give back to itself.

I didnít feel the thorns,

I made it all the way

to the serpent

that protects you

from being loved.

 

Pavlov love.

Thatís all I can see.

Iím 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 canít rape one half of you

just to worship

the other half.

 

Pavlov love.

Iím going mad.

Iím going mad.

Thatís how good you are,

and how bad.

Iíve got to stop.

Iíve got to stop.

 

Close the door.

 

Thereís got to be a door

between us.

You can visit,

but thereís got to be a door

between us.

 

Pavlov love.

Iím going mad.

 

Thereís got to be a door

between us.

 

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Burned-Out Worker

 

Burned-out worker,

thatís 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, donít let me hurt you!

Please!

I havenít passed you by,

itís just that thereís 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 itís coming

from my disintegrating soul,

Iím fading away

into the honey

others will eat

and thereís nothing left for you,

not from me.

Go to the queen,

my love,

win her,

she has the cruelty that spawns

munificence.

Youíll find a part of me

in her generosity,

taste what I brought for you

from her table.

I canít help you,

my love,

only anger you;

with my buzzing,

poison your solitude.

 

Iím a burned-out

worker, thatís 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.

 

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Thorís Frozen Hammer

 

Stay away from Thorís 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.

Youíll know what itís like

to be a frost giant.

Youíll see the world

in a different way:

after his hammer

strikes you

on the unprotected heights

of intimacy.

 

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You, Or Your Weight?

 

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?

 

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The Labyrinth Of You

 

Iím lost in the labyrinth of you.

Donít 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!

 

Iím lost in the labyrinth of you.

Donít 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.

 

Iím lost in the labyrinth of you.

Donít take it personally

if I canít find my way

to my heart,

itís because

youíre too beautiful to lose,

searching forever

is better than

finding out

that you donít love me.

 

Iím lost in the labyrinth of you.

I donít 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 canít say it,

you feel it,

which means

itís not just

selfish.

 

Iím lost in the labyrinth of you.

Thereís no end to

this game of me wandering

and you hiding yourself

by turning yourself

into endless corridors.

Iíll 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.

 

Iím lost in the labyrinth of you:

unknowable,

and unable not to be loved.

 

Iím lost in the labyrinth of you.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Cockroach Love

 

Cockroach love

so dirty

crawling on the floor.

 

Why donít 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 donít 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 donít you love

in the sun?

 

Why wonít 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 womanís

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 couldnít you love

in the sun?

 

Why didnít she come?

 

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Poetry Cat Hunt

 

Cat sees a mouse,

you donít matter,

youíre interrupted

by before you:

the essence

you canít 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 heís ready.

 

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A Missing Language

 

Thereís a whole language

that weíre missing.

The language of the body.

Sometimes

thereís nothing I can say to you

thatís 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 canít 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

thatís been left unsaid.

Youíll never know how much I love you,

youíll never know

how beautiful you are,

till we dare to

fill the darkness

with ourselves,

to finally speak in

this sacred precious

tongue.

 

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The Chicken Or The Egg?

 

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 itís 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 donít know

when the time will be right;

and I donít know

how to be

what she deserves.

 

What comes first,

the chicken or the egg?

 

Back To Top

 

 

You Were Afraid Of Your Feelings

 

Afraid of your feelings?

Sorry.

Iím sorry you

had to hide.

Iím sorry you

couldnít say it,

couldnít come

when the door was open.

Now itís 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 wasnít

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 didnít know yourself

till now,

when you tried to

smother it

with your desperate lack of

self-perception?

But now

itís too late.

Love wonít

ever hurt you again,

you wouldnít let it.

Only your safety

remains to destroy you, now.

And Iím 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 itís been good

knowing you,

which was really not

knowing you:

my beautiful lonely hermit,

shielded

in the stone

called light.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Good-Bye To A Dream

 

Youíve done nothing wrong

except be beautiful.

Iíve done nothing wrong

except be lonely.

The pain

isnít anybodyís fault.

Everything comes to an end,

even things

that never began.

I send you my love

across the sea

of what

never was.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Glass-Bottom Boat Man

 

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 doesnít exist.

 

But it really doesnít matter now,

itís over.

 

Glass-bottom man

is somewhere elseÖ

the ocean will never stop

looking into him.

 

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Fumble Hands Girl

 

Great runner,

Fumble Hands.

You dazzle

your arena

with fire on the grass,

then lose the ball

right by the goal line;

itís like

you want to show yourself

that you could,

if you wanted to.

Why donít you

want to?

You donít look

that happy, now.

Why donít you want

what you really want?

Let me want you,

Fumble Hands,

donít drop me,

let me want you

and change

the way you

play the game.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Love And Dire Prophecies

 

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 isnít,

but my love is too strong,

it keeps going,

dragging all dire prophecies behind it,

like cans and ribbons

behind a car

of newlyweds.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Let Me Die In Peace

 

Let me be alone in the attic.

Iíll play my organ of poetry

hunchback-style,

youíll 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 donít see him,

as long as you donít make him

shrivel up

by opening the door

of his terrible wounds.

Donít remind him of his wormhood,

donít drive him back

into the mud

of believing he is nothing more than

what they did to him.

Donít destroy the trance

of you

by bringing him back,

to face himself

through your eyes,

your horror

that struggles to be

sympathy.

Pretend you donít 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 peaceÖ

 

Let him die

outside your locked door.

 

Let him die in peace.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Yo-Yo

 

Yo-yo

up and down

up and down

thatís 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

doesnít it?

And the yo-yo

doesnít come back

into your hand

no more.

 

Up and down

up and down

Up till now

Iím your yo-yo

up and down.

 

But sooner or later

the string gets tangled.

It always happens,

doesnít it?

 

And one day

I wonít come back

 

No more up and down

up and down

up and down

 

Your hand will wait

for me

and I wonít come

 

No more up and down

 

Yo-yoís got a strange form

of dignity

built right into it

 

No more up and down.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Things That Came Before You

 

I donít need you.

Any of you.

My step is a manís step

that doesnít depend upon

a woman.

In the end,

a woman doesnít make

a man.

A woman

doesnít 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 wouldnít 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 donít 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 donít 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.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Manatee

 

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 thatís 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 thatís how

I fell in love

with a manatee.

 

Back To Top

 

 

Baby Maybe (Lyrics)

 

Maybeís killing me

Baby Maybe

Sheís shooting me down with waiting

 

Maybeís harder

than yes or no

 

I canít live holding on

but every time Iím 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 doesnít want me

She only wants me to be around -

just in case

Thatís my place:

just in case.

 

Maybeís killing me

Baby Maybe

Sheís shooting me down with waiting

 

And no one loves her like I do

but she doesnít see it

She doesnít care, she lives in castles

in the air

with everyone but me

until the princes die

until the clouds wonít hold her up.

Thatís when she comes falling back to me

with the chain of maybe.

 

And she doesnít want me

She only wants me to be around -

just in case.

Thatís my place:

just in case.

 

Maybeís killing me

Baby Maybe

Sheís shooting me down with waiting

 

Maybeís killing me

Baby Maybe

Bye Bye Baby Maybe

I think that itís 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 youíre so good, Baby Maybe

Yes, so fine Baby Maybe

Please help me, God

Please help me get past Baby Maybe

 

Back To Top

 

 

Two Wounds

 

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?

 

Back To Top

 

 

You Made Your Choice (Lyrics)

 

You made your choice

on a dark and windy night

and it wasnít me

it wasnít 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 wasnít me

it wasnít 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

youíre not the one for me

cause I wasnít the one for you

 

You made your choice

on a dark and windy night

and it wasnít me

it wasnít me

 

You made your choice

on a dark and windy night

and it wasnít me

it wasnít me

 

And now we canít go back

because I see

 

You made your choice

on a dark and windy night

and it wasnít me

it wasnít me

 

Back To Top

 

 

Will You Say Yes? (Lyrics)

 

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 itís worthwhile

or if Iím just losing my time?

Signs say stop or go

Traffic lights are green or red

You donít say nothing, fast or slow

If you got to say no, say no,

But why donít 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 isnít 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, weíve been disrespecting Destiny

And being alone, now, is worse than ever

Cause weíre 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 wonít make the queen dirty

wonít make the palace break

and your soul wonít fly away

Full moon donít always make a wolf man,

sometimes love doesnít have to be second-guessed

Why donít 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

 

Back To Top

 

 

And The Sea Come (Lyrics)

 

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

 

Iím 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

 

Back To Top

 

 

The Boy Grew Up (Lyrics)

 

The boy just grew up

donít 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 donít need a mamma

to tell me what to do

 

Big Boss is over

So is mamma and her knee

If I ainít the king

you ainít the queen

ainít 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 canít 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 didnít 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

itís your decision

itís your decision

 

Little Boy over

Little Boy over

Little Boy over

 

Today you are a man

God before mammas

Today you are a man

 

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Iron Dress (Lyrics)

 

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 itís finally

love-to-hate time

 

Yeah, let it out

unlock our room

my bloodís coming out

of both our wounds

 

An empty bottle

no more wine

now itís 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

 

Back To Top

 

 

I Donít Care (Lyrics)

 

I donít care

if you like me

I donít care

if you hate me

I donít care

if you love me

Iím me

 

I donít care

if you stay

I donít care

if you leave

I donít care

if weíre friends

Iím free

 

Youíre not my judge

and I wonít be my executioner

Iím my own shining sun

and I donít need to

be your planet

Your gravity will never beat my soul

Your pat on the back

wonít neutralize me

or your eyes

that hit like fists

Whatís 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 donít care

if you like me

I donít care

if you hate me

I donít care

if you love me

Iím me

 

I donít care

if you stay

I donít care

if you leave

I donít care

if weíre friends

Iím free

 

So - what do you say -

want to go out anyway?

 

Back To Top

 

 

If I Ever Get A Chance Again (Lyrics)

 

If I ever get a chance again

wonít let this happen

if I ever get a chance again

if I ever get a chance again

Wonít 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

wonít let this happen

if I ever get a chance again

if I ever get a chance again

Wonít 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 Iíll know

if we ever meet again, I wonít say no

 

If I ever get a chance again

wonít let this happen

if I ever get a chance again

if I ever get a chance again

Wonít end up this way

No way

if I ever get a chance again

 

One wrong move, and itís 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 doesnít 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

wonít let this happen

if I ever get a chance again

if I ever get a chance again

Wonít end up this way

No way

if I ever get a chance again

 

If I ever get a chance again

wonít let this happen

if I ever get a chance again

if I ever get a chance again

Wonít end up this way

No way

if I ever get a chance again

 

Back To Top

 

 

The Forest, The Trees, And Me (Lyrics)

 

She didnít like one fish

she blew up the sea

She didnít like one leaf

she cut down the tree

 

She saw everything wrong about me

She didnít see the forest for the trees

 

And a great soul flew away

As the night just stood there,

waiting for the day

 

She didnít like one hair

she cut off my head

She didnít 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

Ďcause always steps get in the way

of how you think itís supposed to be

And she couldnít see the forest for the trees

 

And a great soul flew away

As the night just stood there,

waiting for the day

 

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Low Cell Beeper (Lyrics)

 

Just to let you know

the battery of my beeperís low

the battery of my beeperís low

Might not get your call, girl

might not call you back

 

Winterís 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

 

Allís well

that ends well

 

And when love goes bad

allís 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 itís too cold for rain

The ice of our lives

is falling right in front of our eyes

Itís like the world

was holding a mirror up to our hearts

Whyíd we start?

Everything was fine

when we were bystanders of each other

Whyíd we think we could be "The Lovers"?

And itís cold out there

Itís cold out there

Itís cold out there

 

Sad thing is, itís just as cold in here

Sad thing is, itís just as cold in here

And Iíve got to tell you one more time

 

Just to let you know

the battery of my beeperís low

the battery of my beeperís low

Might not get your call girl,

might not call you back

 

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Killed With The Same Bullet

 

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 othersí 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 didnít come from you,

it came through you

from her.

But still, weíre dead.

 

Killed by the same bullet.

Your blood and mine mingling

in the life

weíll never have.

A perfect loversí 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 didnít have

till I met you.

Till the bullet said "too bad."

 

Killed by the same bullet.

I know it wasnít 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 itís done.

But Iíll always treasure this loss,

because we would have been

beautiful together.

And if Iíd had more blood,

I would have paid the cost.

 

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Once Upon A Time (Lyrics)

 

Once upon a time

I wasnít 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 didnít 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 thereís no reason

for the sun to shine

Why rise if the worldís blind?

Then you see someone whoís dying

because they donít have you

because you donít 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 donít want me

you can raise me from the dead

Just by seeing that Iím 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

 

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Subtly Suicidal

 

Subtly suicidal,

wonít point a gun to

my head,

but thereís 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 fateís 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 wonít 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.

Iím killing myself

right in front of your eyes.

Iím blowing my brains out

in a whisper.

Iím hanging myself

from the tree of seeming to be all right.

But itís 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 donít 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.

Fingerís on the trigger,

and they donít see.

 

And I only have one season left,

not to die

by my own hand.

 

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The Power Of Belief

 

Many times

through the yearsí 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 rebelís 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 motherís voice

calling out a childís name:

the love below the land, and in the man.

Always, after war and famine,

love betrayed, and the mindís 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 heartís 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,

youíll 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.

 

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