I was watching the
Nutcracker,
stage drinking blue
The violins
pizzicato,
pizzicato
the wood sprung floor
breathing with the knock
of ballet shoes

I was watching the
Nutcracker,
sitting in the
mezzanine,
Mezzanine
the red kiss of
cherry wood and
green,
I live in
the mezzanine

I was watching the
Nutcracker,
peering into the
pit,
a small gap in the
stage floor where
I could see your
wrist,
holding your bow,
swaying your
bow,
pushing back and forth making my
carpal tunnel
ache, oh your
bow

I was watching the
Nutcracker
and you were playing
the score
Tchaikovsky
Tchaikovsky
beneath the
stage floor

.

I stood at the gate
and was shocked to find
the clasp unfastened

It swung freely on its hinges
as if it had not a care
to whom might enter or leave

I looked out towards the horizon
across the wintered over field,
a stark white landscape

I saw nothing but barren trees with
twisted branches creaking,
silhouettes reaching on an opaque sky

I felt scared and nervous, what
would happen now that the entryway
to my life had been left open

Then I felt someone take my hand,
and looking to my right, there you were,
smiling a sunrise on my face

The day began to sing
in sweet breezes, soft on my skin,
gathering warmly in my heart

So I pulled the gate closed,
secured it tightly and felt the first
hint of spring in your kiss

What haunts my dreams
It's the monsters, those rabid things

Monsters disguise themselves so well
When they put on their human shell
You can't hardly tell
That under the skin a monster dwells

Yes my child monsters are real
On your soul they'll make a meal
Your spirit they will steal
Make it so you'll never heal

Once they get ahold
They'll never let you go

They well continue to dwell in your dreams
As they stomp around, those rabid things

I knew it was coming, I was settling into a groove
Thing's where going a little to smooth
I felt a first a small quaking
The universe's desire to **** ME OVER was awaking
Then life explode AGAIN on me,  all over the place
Now I'm standing here with the universe's **** on my face

Do you remember that old guitar that I use to play and strum
As you would set and listen, watch and hum

I found it just the other day, where it was put away
I could do no more than stare at where it lay

Time had warped it's shape a bit
All the strings where snaped and bent

Never again music would it make
Inside I felt again my heart break

I remember when it was bright and new
Of course I thought of you

How you danced, your hips and feet so smoothly flowed
While quickly over the cords my fingers would go

I would play by the roaring midnight fire
Your voice as sweet as the heavenly choir

You would stare at the stars, as they would gaze down on you
I know that you both enjoyed the view

That was all before the music up and died
No longer inside of me would it ever again reside

One moment you where full of life,  then in my arms you lay
I watched as you quickly slipped away

Now all I can do, is talk to old pictures of you
Wishing also that my life was through

Just like that old guitar,  what use is there for I
Without you there is no music, happiness or joy, all I do is cry


I found it just the other day, where it was put away
I could do no more than stare at where it lay
Never again music would it make
Inside I felt again my heart break

Yesterday
I saw you
everywhere
all the time
and I wasn't even looking for you.
It was a good day.

Today
I was looking for you
all the time
everywhere
but I didn't see you,
not even once.
Life can be so cruel.

----------

Hier
je te voyais
partout
tout le temps
sans même t'avoir cherchée.
C'était un beau jour.

Aujourd'hui
je t'ai cherchée
tout le temps
partout
mais je ne t'ai pas vue
une seule fois.
La vie peut être si cruelle.

Peace for a moment over calamity
raging in the gunpowder city
Regenerating a semblance of solidity
These values we crave to shake
Forced to be slaves to propaganda utopias
A secret door behind the foliage
A castle in my dreams
I can almost grab the charcoal stones
with my hands outstretched
Searching for this world on the edge of my dreams
a Nirvana in Tartarus
People tell me it's too far to reach
How do I create this vision in my soul into
something tangible?
How would I bring those lilac clouds down to me?
Feel them under my feet
That stillness, a rising awareness of my faults
stirring like syrup in the pit of my gut
I've been sleeping so long it feels justified now to wake up

Can artist's be beautiful, Frida Kahlo?
Can we be glorified not for our duty
as angelos, but for our
physicality?
Our fierce thighs
and not our mood swings, Lou Reed?
Painted canvas', strumming guitar strings
Prettified under the neon fixtures
We are more like the trench-coat souls
slipping away with tobacco pipes into
the night,
not golden, but starry-eyed off of laudanum potions
Is that simplistic Jack Kerouac?
To be dignified in wine stained ramblings
too large for one to comprehend alone
In snapshots or albums of Led Zeppelin

Did we curse the false idols while lacking sincerity?

Because we are only human beings and can't reach that state
No Buddha's have I gazed the face of in
hostels or busy streets,
neither in dens or marble coves
Saturated in meaning but an image
that dies in the dark
Is it ugly to find the fountain of immortality?
To have lived as a martyr
No one celebrated Van Gogh or
understood mania
It's in our nature to breathe meaning
into something spectral
some nothing you cant kiss on the mouth