June 16, 2010

• Being the same was different then

  
  Now is Over

  Ideally the moments could be put on pause
  and rewound and lived again,
  but then the moments would lose their cause
  and the story would never quite end

  The story would forever be re-written
  dissected by chapter and verse
  and a deluge of discrepancies unhidden
  and the telling would only get worse

  Much better that now is quickly done,
  It teaches us how to think fast
  and the only reason the story is such fun
  is because history is all that will last

  Seriously

  She invited me to meet her
  in some neutral mid-location
  to discuss our mutual future
  and declare our avocation

  And while I was enchanted,
  I had to burst her bubble
  I knew her view was slanted,
  as to go to that much trouble,

  Because she hadn’t seen the person
  behind the prattling words–
  I might have been rehearsing
  my audition for the birds.

  Temptation of Immolation

  A fevered dream begun in grudging pain
  enticed me to another way of thought.
  I turned my heart away from selfish gain
  for that is what I knew the prophet taught.

  When the dream was gone I awoke renewed
  but I was young, and that was quite normal,
  and my life hadn’t changed because I knew
  dream enticements are never made formal.

  Mind the Wind

  The winds are named for where they come from
  no matter where they would go,
  they travel in swirls
  like preoccupied girls
  until they fade in a soft, gentle snow

  And the skies are named for the clouds they contain
  and the light they allow to shine through,
  they’re always up there
  and they don’t really care
  they just do what the wind tells them to

  Yes, the wind has a voice and it speaks to the trees
  and the mountains take shape with its flow,
  but we don’t know the words
  so we emulate the birds
  and we wonder at how the winds blow

  Animalosophy

  (at the zoo)

  there are all kinds of animals that don’t live around here
  like birds that can’t fly and peculiar looking deer
  and they act just like prisoners in the penitentiary do,
  they’re like, “what’re you looking at?… what’s the matter with you?”
  when, probably, they are one thing that I could not be,
  contented… with no illusion of ever being free

  Besides That

  There’s nothing I’d like more than to just run after you
  but I don’t feel like inflicting all this mess I’m going through
  and you shouldn’t have to worry about what I am going to do
  I’m much too unpredictable for that

  I cannot make decisions when the choices all feel wrong
  and I don’t know much about living except for making it a song
  but you’ve been seeing me through rose-colored lenses all along
  and I think I’m much more colorful than that

  But if you feel like coaxing me to climb out of my hole
  you’d have my genuine gratitude as well as some control
  but forget any ideas designed to save my immortal soul
  I’m sure I’m much too damnable for that

  • 3:34 am
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