when the wind said goodbye
and the trees stood up
and the clouds parted for the beautiful light
to come down
and be

and being was the only way

when i said goodbye
and walked away
out of your life
that beautiful light

o god that beautiful light
surrounded me
and god i knew
hallelujah

all i could do was be

nervous tendencies
pumping blood into arteries
into organs
swelling,
sensations causing
flight pattern tendencies
untill a clean landing is made
hope
destruction caused
when the organs shutdown
operative failure
and helplessness
when knees lock
thankgoodness for suicide
thank goodness for free hands
protect the face
protect the face
in the end
leing in the snow
crawl away
or give in
give in to failure
helpless till the end
saterday was nice...
sunday was restless
and monday is today.

as the wet drops of paint
Splatter across the scene
I'm reminded of a saint
who's life devoted,
and transformed by love,
lived to long

My strokes are disciplined,
but time decides the fate,
and helpless to nature,
Gravity brings the heavy ***** of paint
Down into a bleeding imperfection
that tried to fight the odds
and Live forever

The scene,
many greens overpowered by reds
And blacks covering whites
depict a nameless man
who will live longer than me
the artist
who's fingerprints,
hide among the texture,
and who's essence is captured by the beast

the beast
and a man
fighting to live a second longer
each with titles and memories
each with myth and reputations
each risking death just to be remembered
through tongue and emotion

sadly the faces are unrecognizable,
the paint to thick for detail
and the detail to ambiguous for translation

in the end w ** will know that i knicked my finger
and bled on the canvas
or smeared the paint
who will know that i am the man
and who will know that they are the beast
and who will know that the saint lay in paint

there's an animal outisde
he doesnt know his name
he doesnt give a ****
he walks around town with that cool kid swagga step
drop in the hip, lean with it

he carries that aire of
i've been there
or ill be there

smoking on that camel, cigarette

he smells of cigarettes too
and perfume too

wirey thinned stragely stuff covers his face
but he's got that clean cut
and theres dirt on his shoes even though they cost
that fat dime,
more like a quarter.

but he's an animal no doubt
doesnt know his name
doesnt give a ****

Smoking cigarettes in the world never weighed me down
Quite like walking around in this town
And pardon that cliché but
I hope that when I die
Youll pay attention to the parchment
It says take my little memories and spread them
Out and about
Anywhere
But this town

because my soul is old
i know that the things i'm told
the things that seem bold,
or courageously full of gold
are meekly devious
specifically
of whatever is trying to be sold

because my soul is old
i know that the things i hold
non impressive things that seem cold
in which only i see the gold
are superior forms
specifically
in what ever memories cannot be retold

but because my soul is old
i cannot know if the love i'm bestowed
is honest and willing to endure time
if it is a warming hue forget the gold
if specifically
it can content my heart and mind.

The desperate laugh of a man,
who's wide distant gaze reflects the need,
for relief,
for release,
understanding that time is a lie

the lapse
a crack in the grasp
that every,
held together man,
and,
nailed together by hand,
splinter in cheap wood of a
house, apartment, loft,
a home, a hole, a shelter, a...

a similer glimmer of comprehension
that,

your wife's basic and met needs,
your wife's basic and met wants,
o
your wife's eyes reflect the need for relief, and release, and understanding that time is not the liar,
you are,
your father was,
and his father too.