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Seeing is believing
With meaningless words flowing through air
Stagnant in the maze we call life
Devoured by remorse
Pleading but not Wanting
That lifetime of battle
Who shall be victorious
You be the judge
Self-conscious soliloquies ****** into tragedies
Will we ever love the right way?

So many slumbers as I sleep...
Do I dare ask again

What good is raging wars over past dues
When the new age hides in the corner of your kitchen

I know you have the fire to cook up some hope
But do you have the courage to live up to your dreams
So very squeezed and rinsed

Don't burn me

Trust only means wait in a world like this one
With so many pixies in the ear

I beg the day our towers reach the sky
Together, and alone

Will you ever love yourself like I do?

What is a shiny white stone
But a physical reminder of how bad we are

Underneath and on top
Folded in the sheets of the other's dreams
Never fully tucked in
Just one blissful moment
Before I'm rushed away
To another world
Another land
But for now I have
One blissful moment
Just you and me
Together
I can hardly wait
Counting down
Just a few more hours
And then one blissful moment
The sunset is fading,
but my eyes are on you.
Running your fingers across my arm,
tracing my tattoo.
My head resting on your chest,
feeling your every breath.
As your face leans closer,
yesterday fades away.
Our lips meet,
and the pain no longer stays.
Your tongue dances with mine,
speaking only to me.
Because even in the silence,
I can still hear you speak.
2/2/2016
 Feb 2016 Connor Exodus
moss
I explain my metaphors with metaphors
I don't know how else to express
My thoughts that sit in clutter drawers
And leave my mind a mess

If you don't understand my comparison
I'll just say it in a different way
My thoughts still shielded by a garrison
Suppressing things I need to say
Bowie
left town
blasting off
from a
Lafayette
rooftop
his ***
spewing
a rainbow arc
liberally
sprinkling
Gluten-free  
golden glitter
onto chichi
Houston Street
bistros
liberating a
fawning glitterati
eager to prance
about a
shanghaied
High Line

for a
NY second
the best dressed
homeless dude
in NoHo
spotted a
Pale Duke
apparition
fluttering over
a posse of
faux
figurine
graffiti
splashed across a
Banksyless wall
tagging the
sunny side
of the finest
neighborhood
car wash

a ghostly
Lou Reed
dressed to the nines
in sleek
Transformer drag
watched
chuckling,
scratching his *****
humming
the final bars of
an Eno
inspired
Perfect Day,
marking odds
when a
long overdue
Iggy Pop
will crash the
Pearly Gate
mosh pits

Ubering
through
the choppy seas
of urban sludge,
lightning bolts
streak down
the sullen faces
of cash strapped
honey dippin
lust for life
hipsters,
luxuriating in
a well nursed
millennial
angst
stew

Fun City's
frenzied
bare footin
Little Monster
darlings
imprisoned
in soulless
high-rises,
still a
quarter shy
from annual
bonus time,
pace
white
stained
minimalist
spaces
indulging
notions
driven
by economic
compulsion
to dial up
flush with cash
fund managers
to seek
margin loans
on their
large positions
in alpha rich
distressed
asset funds
while their
diamond collared
Schnauzers
wait outside
the corner
State News
licking the
oozing sores
encrusting
Lazarus's
feet

Ziggy's
lapping tongue
marks time,
waiting for
the stretchy
panted painted
ladies scoring
Iman's
organic rouge
at a corner
bodega

listening to
a sidewalk
trash can
yelp today's
Daily News
headline
"Major Tom
Myna Hero!"
bekighting the next
15 minute legend
a talking
Myna bird
named
Major Tom

the vigilant
Major
alerted occupants
of a Brooklyn
townhouse of
a furnace leaking
carbon monoxide
when he stopped talking
and dropped dead

a veritable canary
in a coal mine story

a special service
marking
Major Tom's
supreme sacrifice
is planned,
in the spirit of
neighborhood
beatification
the family
implores those
wishing to express
condolences
in lieu of flowers
to please occupy
Prospect Park
to drive out
the rapacious
squeegee men
and feed the
hungry pigeons

Bowie's earthly star
may have gone black
but the ashes of his
disembodied voice
will forever
mark the city
like the
ubiquitous
gray splot
ashes of
pigeon
guano

David Robert Jones
1.8.47 - 1.10.16

Well Done Beloved
God Bless and Godspeed


Music Selections:

David Bowie, Dollar Days

David Bowie, I Can't Give Everything Away

David Bowie, Black Star

Jazz Messengers, Wayne Shorter
Lester Left Town

1.17.16
NYC
jbm
 Feb 2016 Connor Exodus
Wanderer
We are inherently weak
deep down inside
we never feel strong enough
So we tether ourselves
to things we think are strong

We look for the biggest tree to climb
to hold us way up in the sky

But it isn't until the tree starts swaying
That we question if maybe
we shouldn't be so trusting

We forget to test the strength
before we put up our own weight

Leaving us in a great plight
when things don't go right
because we didn't have an escape plan
we trusted what looked to be strength
looks can be deceiving and so can words. The only thing that truly matters is action.
Why are you cast down,O' my inner self?
And why should you moan over me
and be disquieted within me?

Hope in God & wait expectantly
for Him
for I shall yet praise Him,
Who is the Help of my countenance
and my
God.
Psalm 42:11
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