I don't know how you found me
But here we are
Full of wind
Your skin is glazed in a wreath of dust
You are amazingly void of entry wounds
You're the other side of me
And as i lay on this hospital bed
Sides split, raw wounds
Thorns now replacing the opening
I can count the railings of my cage
And like we agreed
There is one missing

The king and I went out to survey the land
Nothing but dumb, beautiful, animals
They didn't use our tongue
Making conversation bare, and minimal
You were the answer

Even though you laid, muted by the moist clay
Still a gesture in a shallow grave of dirt
I could visualize you
Closer, like another side of me

But maybe, with regret
As you came about
Your beauty shone
Like the dark side of the moon
A dark reflection you were, at best.

The Substance of grace, is glue
Congenitally speaking
We weren't born together
We came together
You introduced me to your Son
And it was eternally mutual
More than his swagger
(Much) More than his charisma
He sipped the wine from the glass at the party
And i felt a new era coming through
Like a warm gust of air
Promising a summer to follow
Or of the scent of a storm, brewing above
Suddenly, I was nervous, a little self conscious
But it only took a night over the threshold
A blood stained bed
Old curtains pulled off the walls
And a day turned to night (if only for a few hours)
And you and I were together
A declaration of co-dependance
You doused me in your grace
Marred it with glue
Mathematically speaking
One and one makes us two.

On some of their faces
There were traces
Of acne
The oily composition
Of beings born, with fallen wings
Lives birthed under shadows

Outside of the gardens and cities
Where the citadels of refuge hung
We stood
Waiting for our own set of keys

I looked to my left and right
With no idea who was besides me
But there was a vagueness that I needed to explore
Because In the emptiness of your eyes
I found a connection, a glint of my father
We were coming from the same place
Travelers from the open graves of birth
Hoping to find a resting place
Under the cedar trees,
made for temples and made for us
A place to judge
A place to rust

There is a line
the thinest hair of difference
between heartbreak and euphoria

Like the border that splits
two countries
that are constantly at war

But they say, you can still respect those
whom you are fighting

There's admiration
even in the face of its contradictions

There are realms
i feel i pass through
often daily
often a tender struggle
between where I am and where I'm not

A prophet once said
that the thought of paradise is paradise itself

Well I guess i don't possess
a great imagination

I have always been envious
of those who are content
yet i have never wished
for their lives -

to find joy in routine
a bliss in the knowledge
of what is an assumed inevitability  
It never sounded like a good idea

We're all animals who prefer
the confines of a zoo,
than the unpredicability of
the wild

We're all
Lions with their teeth knocked out

Take away our desires
replace our instinct
with a mild manner
with what comes natural

Take away our fight
and we'll all be whimpering dogs
you'll find us
Content

Give me history, give me castles walls
Show me the remnants of the Roman empire
And evidence of how one, falls

Make me feel a insignificant, or maybe a little important
Either a fat cat on bond street
Or a filthy gutter rodent

This town is a mouthful, but I'm hungry for kingdom
Give me the British isles
Give me, the city of London

After we ended our love
you suggested we remain
friends
I told you there was no point
to that
like the winter after Christmas day

We have dignity, right?
Since the 1600's we've thought with minds of reason
Anselm of Canterbury created pragmatism
Out of the most sacred and holy of things
And since then our rationalism has worn suits.
War is for the common, the petty.
Let the east quarters bury themselves in poverty
Leave them to their primitive ways
I want my son's to return
They'll be studying the Romantics in the Fall
We have no need for war
I want my daughters to come back to their homes
Instead of manufacturing arms to fight
These unreasonable beasts
We have no need for war.
Let the Calvary of America flex its powered machines
We are civilized.
Poster Childs for the post modern
With the intention to overtake
Our own philospohy, that indicates-
(with the raise of a brow, a tip of the head)
That -
We have no need for war.

people talk about the past like its still living
an annoying neighbor who insists on visiting
we go to the graves of our own mortal history
but instead of soil and stone
we're confronted by Zombies
Zombies of hurt, Zombies of pain
the ever living conundrum
of the past, as the walking dead

People live in the past like they've split the atom
a world within a world
a freedom they can't fathom
we go to the homes we left at sixteen
but instead of new occupance
we're alone with the Zombies -
Zombies of failure, Zombies of death
the ever living conundrum
of the pasts rotting flesh

People review the past and talk like its still news
yet its just a flicker of the mind the remnants of a fuse
we look over the lines like editors we read
in the hindsight we searth for truth
yet all we find are Zombies -
Zombies of hate, Zombies of love
the ever decaying conundrum
to the pasts resemblance to now.