It Takes Two to Tell a Lie

My mind defends me
Puts me on the shelf
It takes two to tell a lie
Mr. Conscience and yourself
You gotta live before you die
My mind defends me from the rye

Mr. Conscience tells me
Nothing I can't handle
Mr. Rye makes me tight
He don't hold a candle
Truth don't shine a light
My mind and me we don't fight

My mind defends me
Puts me on the shelf
It takes two to tell a lie
Mr. Conscience and yourself
You gotta live before you die
My mind defends me from the rye

My mind defends me from the lie
Protects me from the life life I live
Mr. Conscience chides me
But my mind it does forgive
My friends like their music free
My mind defends me when I'm me

My mind defends me
Puts me on the shelf
It takes two to tell a lie
Mr. Conscience and yourself
You gotta live before you die
My mind defends me from the rye

You gotta live before you die
Uncle Seymour told me, Son
Gotta live before you fly
And life ain't just a jug of fun
Need to give up on that rye
Keep it on the shelf  way up high

You gotta live before you die
Gotta live before you fly

My friend Mike
He's such a clown,
He thinks things up,
Then writes them down.

My friend Mike
He's quick with wit,
Sad sonnets too,
A master of lit.

My friend Mike
His words fill the air.
Listen closely
For truth is there.

My friend Mike
He has a heart
Patched together,
A work of art.

My friend Mike
Its been my pleasure,
To read your poems,
You are a treasure.

I fight a war on too many fronts
and am losing in every direction
opaque views of what I want
and what is worth the mention
Ignored the facts for way too long
time to remove the veil
from what I have known all along
the jailers in the cell
With nothing left to do
and nothing left to say
the truth in choices that were made
why it remains this way.

Hurtful words come in every direction
No longer is anything left to my discretion
How could this happen, how could this be?
How could my prince betray me?
The love in my heart waxes and wanes
But the incessant pain still remains
Letting go of hope, facing the truth
It never was me, it was always you.

Patient and waiting
Caring yet feelings hidden
Believe the lies and ditch out the truth
Evade me more and you will suffer longer
Those events that happened so quickly
At the same pace you will lose them
Try to stop the present
Lose sight of your future
Unknown and unclear
These paths unmarked
With a tilt of your head
You always look up
Answers aren't above you but within
You seek for something greater
Catch it now or you’ll be catching it later
You know there’s nothing out there
Nothing is of value
Nothing to wait for

Theres this chemical found
in the books you love
that makes the smell of turning the page
stimulating.
Reminding me of every word I've ever learned
that wont fit the smell of a number two pencil
with the language given.

I will try.

Because I was taught elementry things that I still dont understand
like how to give up.

What is taught isn't always blowing through your sense.
So lend me your ear and hear this.
Help me remember the miracle
of tragic wealth,
where  oppurtunity in the ventures of wallstreet
is worth more than everybody else's
and somehow still
no child gets left behind.
Leaving only our parent's nuerosis that become our friends
inability to write poetry.
The form of a child is something to be ashamed of
and you better believe that the ink can't speak
because growing up
that lesson that did sink in
under your skin is how you've never been able to say what you mean.  

So run along lil duckling
traffic wont wait in this brisk pace
of a life you better learn.

We don't have time for nature.
A mother we grow to think we were born into
but out of?
Oh into,
the biggest lie to convince us
that such a thing as original exists
when the closest to original you'll get
is the collage of you human experience.
Turning school children into ducklings
reality into god
war into novels
spanish harlem into charity abroad
body language into a farewell to your fear
and journal studies into truth
but if I wanted to talk about the absolute
it's poetry I'd read to you.

Because when I saw god

I had to

touch
my
self.

To even come
close
every bead of sweat evidence of
the good work
the lessons learned
and all the things that I must burn.
To keep pace in this place
   climbing a catalogue
I
must
   escape.
So
when my time comes
I won't
be afraid
to
turn
the pa
ge.

this is a
song for the
brothers who survived
too much and
too many and
too long ago

it was written
what was written
this was written

what does it
mean to face
reality and accept--

everybody

need

some

hope some forgiving
some company all
of us need
to quiet the
mind and turn

up the music
take it easy
this is home

find the truth
of a truth
in a sea

of chaos, all
love is art
you are art

the world is
art and god
the ultimate

art
is
t
.
.
.