It's in the journey not just the exit
It's out the window through the rush
I'll take care of you always
You don't need to ask.
Through all of the distractions
The wind blowing through our hair
All it takes is our eyes
To see you everywhere
How magnificent is your city
The beauty of creation
This is what you wanted
For us all along
An overflow of creativity
For no one to be a like
But through love that comes from you
Together we're unified
As for human intentions
We may not be so sound
Still the glory goes to you
I can see it all around
Like a river you spirit flows
With peace, love and hope.
Through you all fear goes
And all it's chains have been broke
They Sold My Name!
No big deal, your name, your email, bought n' sold daily,
Like a baseball card, your picture and vital stats are on the internet,
Your credit card in the fine print tells you they love you much,
But the data they collect, might get credited to such and such.
You're fair game if your sign up for anything.
Now I know I am getting on in years,
Tho spry rhymes with die, I flatly deny
Any notion that
My great beyond is just around the corner!
But Holy Crap,
They Sold My Name!
Got a color brochure
Suggesting that when my travels are over,
A nice place to rest my head might be
St. Michael's Cemetery.
St. Michael's Cemetery
7202 Astoria Blvd, East Elmhurst
Friday hours 7:00 am–5:00 pm
In case you want to check it out too...
Tho I live not in the Borough of Queens County,
My zip code but a hop, skip and jump away,
The cemetery adjacent to the Grand Central Parkway
Which is actually quite thoughtful of
The mass marketer who dreamed up this scheme
(And got paid a plentiful amount of bounty).
My kids could wave as they drive by,
On the way to LaGuardia or JFK, (airports)
And say, guilt free, they visit me regularly!
Sadly, their plot foiled,
I will be buried in
New Jersey soil,
Near to my pop, who liked the
Wide open spaces of suburbia
And shopping on Route 4,
Where the selection is great
And there is no sales tax.
But Holy Crap,
They Sold My Name,
And I am now target marketed,
Niched, pretty soon the boys from AARP
Will come calling, reminding me of the gap
Tween Medicare and the poor house!
Ok ok, grow up you say, tho your hair is full,
And not even a hint of baldness shines forth,
Nonetheless, its color is zebra striped gray,
And when someone says they got my back,
I think, please, please take it and keep it....
Dear St. Mikes
You might ask for some of your money back,
Cause this sily scribe is a member of the tribe,
Some call "those dirty (hint: it rhymes with Mikes),"
It starts with K and ends in yikes!
But thanks for thinking of me anyway.
Hasta La Pasta!
She stands in the doorway
As is her wont,
Bidding adieu to the retreating figure
Who spent the night in
Adoration of the Magi,
Her charms, her hair,
Her serpentine figure most fair,
And scribbling on Hello Poetry
Till his eyes said, no mas!
The retreating figure that be me,
Late for work at 7:20.
Over the shoulder I exclaim,
Which is silly because
My return is faithfully guaranteed,
Every eve for as long as I live!
She laughs and replies,
Hasta la Pasta!
Stop in my tracks,
About face and in woeful Italian,
Do exclaim, in a deeply serious timbre,
Hasta la Pasta?
(Italian for "that-does-it")
You can have my love, my soul,
But leave to me the labor of poetry.
Loving you with words is
my domain, the speciality of my terrain,
So no more hasta la pasta if you please,
And by the bye, I would love some
Tonight, say around eight,
At a restaurant where the moon is
The only light illuminating our faces.
My mind has a million thoughts per second everyday
One of those seconds it dwells on you
Why you so cool, girl?
My heart defrosts when I see your pretty face, voluptuous
lips, black silky hair
And hear your soft, innocent voice
You get on nerves
I Wanna just leave you alone like everybody else I can't
You never let things go
Knocking the walls I set up in this maze
You saw through all the smog and haze
Caught me on all my bullshit
Why do you consistently keep trying
Where someone else either wouldn't have given a damn or
would have given up?
I can count on you to always be there to bug the hell out
Until you get to the bottom of the situation
Not because you want something or to make me feel bad
But because you cared to stare darkness in the face
We might have a lot of issues
We argue a lot
It don't change how we feel about each other
Regardless of what people think
Just wanted to say that I love you, my one and only
Fuck other people
We have spiritual attraction that is worth more than sex
I wanna be with you forever if I could
© Fall, 2006
Much too late
of what her father
Fay went with you
to the Globe cinema
in Camberwell Green
a right fleapit of a place
but the film
you wanted to see
was on there
all about the Old West
and after it was over
and you came out
into the bright sunlight
your eyes felt
after the darkness
of the cinema
what did you think?
yes it was good
not the sort of film
Daddy would have let me see
well he won't know
you've seen it
unless he asks me
then I'll have to
tell him the truth
why would he ask?
you looked at her
with her fair hair
and lovely blue eyes
he might ask me
what I have done today
her eyes beginning
to show signs of fear
maybe he won't
just tell him
you've been studying
she looked at her hands
he doesn't like America
well you don't have to
like something to study it
I have to do it all week
maybe he won't ask
she said softly
looking at you
fiddling with her fingers
tell him something else
talk about a butterfly
you saw on the bombsite
she looked at you
you don't know him
he'll ask me
what sort of butterfly
and I won't know
and he'll know
I've been lying
and that will mean
she looked up the street
toward the bus stop
we had better be getting back
he'll be home soon
and took her hand
and walked toward
the bus stop and waited
for the bus
if I told my mother
the truth all the time
she'd have a nervous breakdown
it's more kinder
to keep her happy
in innocent bliss
of what I get up to
Fay looked haunted
and was silent
she still held your hand
a fading bruise just visible
on her upper arm
where her dresses sleeve
how about some ice-cream
when we get back
I've got a Shilling
given to me
by my old man yesterday?
ok I’d like that
and when the bus
you both got on
and sat next
to each other
watching the scenes
of passing people
and traffic go by
but a special place
in your mind and heart
next to you
quiet and shy.
When we first met I was
by your curly black hair
and your beautiful blue
eyes. You were wearing
a shade of mint green
and you were a little shy,
your voice was soft and
sweet and you said you
had a boyfriend.
I didn't care;
The only thing I needed
to know about you was
how you drink your coffee,
and if you would like to
have some together
Comfortably lounging on the couch.
The tv on low and plates
of unfinished food by my feet.
Tracing my fingertips
across your forehead.
Then venturing them
into your hair.
While you gently tickle
down my leg and
raise goosebumps on my knee
when you breathe.
That's how our nights should wind down.
I would do
To be loved.
I would jump
And ask how high.
I would change
However you like.
I can be quiet
I can be loud
I can be funny
I can be serious.
I could wear makeup
I could go bare.
Change my clothes
Cut my hair.
I really would do anything for you
Unfortunately it means I have a hard time
Learning to be me.
There you are at nighttime,
Worlds away from who you’ll be at dawn.
You’re standing so close
I can smell your breath,
Or maybe it’s your hair.
Whatever it is it smells of flowers,
And I can feel my heart
Bloom bloom bloom-ing
Beneath its sheets.
I can see your eyes
Getting light years wider,
Or maybe I’m just getting closer,
But there’s more than one way
For a star to light up the sky.
You could be a whole galaxy if you wanted to.
Do you know that?
Your hair is already the colour of midnight.
Your lips are already the shape of infinity.
You already have planets orbiting your pupils,
And you have everything to teach me
About being so blindingly luminescent
And so fucking fragile
At the same time.
I'm always falling for girls who are arrows shot through the hearts of prodigal sons.
You've been in my head for days.
I've been clinging to your later
Like a shipwrecked sailor
Clings to the shattered bow
As the ocean tries to swallow him whole.
You swallowed me whole,
And you barely even opened your mouth;
Just wide enough for me to taste honey
And see stars that have been three nights creating haloes around my drunken head.
But you'll only hold my hand in the shadows;
You'll only ask me how I am if you know the answer will be
I've got you under my skin
But you're under it, girl.
You're seven layers deep,
And suddenly you're rushing through my bloodstream
And filling my body with a five-dime dream
That is only of your face.
Everyone knows that web of red veins
All lead back to the heart.
So I'm putting up fences
But leaving gaps between the posts
So when you’ve circulated my system
and I can feel you tingling electricity in every one of my cells
It’ll look like the bars I’ve put up were to keep you out
But really the space between was to let you in.
I’ll be shining a light so bright that maybe you’ll grow powdered wings
and flutter towards me like a moth who can’t ignore the flame for even one more second.
You’re more like a butterfly though.
When I look at you I see every colour;
I see grace and beauty, and in your voice I hear a melody so sweet it makes me wonder
whether you’re a girl,
Or if maybe you’re a songbird.
Maybe you build a new nest every night
From twigs and feathers and broken hearts.
You showed me a cutting of your old boyfriend’s hair
That you keep in your wallet
Because you dream of recreating him.
I thought if I knew how I’d make an army of this boy for you,
I’d carve his face from limestone
And give him blossoms for eyes
But I’d give him my lips,
So that when you kissed him I’d taste you.
And it’s not like I’d make you,
But inside my head we’re every day making each other laugh;
We’re every day running through dappled fields,
Calling each other’s names,
Smelling each other’s hair.
It’s the sweetest thing.
That’s all I really want to say
Is that you make me smile and dream,
And sometimes I’m looking at your face
For just a bit longer than you’re looking at mine,
And in the half-light I think,
Isn’t she beautiful.