March 27, 2010

• Where am I now?

  Soul Searching
  
  We tire of being children
  And doing as we’re told
  Then life comes blazing up on us
  And suddenly we’re old
  We wonder where the time went
  And how the fire turned cold
  In the evening of our glory days
  Our souls are gladly sold

  We hope for things to bind us
  Into a fairy tale
  We laugh at our mistakeness
  And shrug each time we fail
  Then one day we become ourselves
  And clearly see our trail
  But going back is not a choice
  Our souls are not for sale

  We grind our noses stoically
  To earn our daily bread
  We study what we want from life
  But seek our needs instead
  And then one day we understand
  What our parents always said
  We see our lives are much like theirs
  Our souls are in our heads

  God isn’t speaking to me..
  he hasn’t since I was a baby
  how do I know he spoke to me then?
  I remember, he distinctly said maybe
  and I know I was only dreaming
  but I haven’t dreamed of him since
  and I’ve forgotten whatever I asked him
  anyway, it’s all in the perfect past tense

  I’m not speaking to God, why should I?
  he knows every thought I’m thinking
  he knows every sin I ever even considered
  and it doesn’t matter what I’d been drinking
  so I don’t think he cares what any of us do
  he knows we’ll all find our own demise
  but our souls will live on in his library
  and our hearts will keep twinkling in his skies

  The Gift of Taking

  My immortal soul is dead
  my mortal soul yet lives
  a paradox not unlike itself
  has reclaimed the loss it gives

  The future is behind me
  the past is yet to be
  and all that’s left are memories
  I dreamed paradoxically

  I did not face my fears
  my fears did not face me
  I heard the sounds of silence
  as my life escaped from me

  And when I have recovered it
  to attain its proper death
  I’ll sing a song that has no words
  without a single breath

  For all that comes has gone
  and all that’s gone remains
  in memory of dreaming paradox
  become the mortal pain

  Anticrastination

  My hope was to cope with the hopeless
  But I didn’t have the proper degree
  So now I despair with the desperate
  Trying to make something good out of me

  I don’t grovel for gruel but I feel like a fool
  When somebody takes me for one
  But I do what I do and I feel it’s unreal
  Because I know that it never really gets done

  So now I’m the dope with which I once hoped to cope
  And I’m coping the best I know how
  Whatever it was that I was meant to do
  I’m still working on getting around to it now

  Minding Never

  The cream marbled through the coffee as I fought
  angry steam for a minuscule sip without thinking,
  without seeing in my prescient deja vu thought
  visions still to come like they came while I was drinking
  in a memory I had chosen to forget
  an experience I’m not quite over yet
  and still seems to be the best that it can get

  The pastry so sweet it brought tears to my eyes
  vision blurred and the dusk seemed to pale
  as I looked into madness in a brilliant disguise
  which depended on my courage not to fail
  and I saw the front door
  that’s not mine any more
  and I wondered what promises are for

  The bath was hot as usual and it put my soul to rest
  surrounding me with the illusion of escape from the day
  where I endeavored to labor to give this life my best
  with a compass to make sure I know the way
  to a point just beyond my questing sight
  the farthest thing from nothing seeming right
  at the end of this tunnel there is no light

  The bed was turned down inviting me to take a spin
  the alarm clock kept telling me I’m healthy and sane
  and I wondered where the dream I’ll have tonight would begin
  hoping when morning struck I’d forget about the strain
  from my own inability to believe
  that there wasn’t any magic up that sleeve
  I was hopelessly too easy to deceive

  ~Interest

  I’ve forgotten what I told you but remember your reply
  and I’ll bet you’ve forgotten about it too,
  but the significance was that I finally learned why
  one plus one is a bit more than two.

  Why we say fall
  

  She was wicked, but not in a sinister way,
  as if evil was taking a holiday;
  she smiled like a flower but growled like a cur
  and I knew some fallacy was bothering her.

  But, watching her dance, I saw perfidy rise
  when a shadow exploded within her eyes
  and darkness caressed my unknowable pain
  while washing away an invisible stain

  And goodness, beauty and truth became moot
  as all I could countenance engaged in pursuit
  and my life mutinied with unbearable glee
  in a strange prideful shame that uncrucified me

  She was wicked, but she brought a fervor to me
  while letting me believe that my will was still free
  when passion and violence expounded her views
  I realized that love is not something we choose

  In time for supper, all has been settled
  until sleep flares to broken dreams
  it may be loathsome to be belittled
  but not as hurtful as it seems

  for I have sung in a circle of friends
  I found patronage left and right
  though some are false, still, others make amends
  enough so I’ll sleep fast tonight

  
  

  It’s hard to be protective
  and not be possessive too
  because the simple act of protecting a soul
  will make it a part of you

  
  

  • 2:51 am
  • 3 Comments