All armies are the same
Publicity is fame
Artillery makes the same old noise
Valor is an attribute of boys
Old soldiers all have tired eyes
All soldiers hear the same old lies
Dead bodies always have drawn flies

One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West
As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace
Of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
Nothing has more possibilities
Than one old wet picture puzzle piece.

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

Well, my daddy left home when I was three,
and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,
just this old guitar and a bottle of *****.
Now I don't blame him because he run and hid,
but the meanest thing that he ever did was
before he left he went and named me Sue.

Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke,
and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks,
it seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
and some guy would laugh and I'd bust his head,
I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue.

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean.
My fist got hard and my wits got keen.
Roamed from town to town to hide my shame,
but I made me a vow to the moon and the stars,
I'd search the ***** tonks and bars and ****
that man that gave me that awful name.

But it was Gatlinburg in mid July and I had
just hit town and my throat was dry.
I'd thought i'd stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon in a street of mud
and at a table dealing stud sat the *****,
mangy dog that named me Sue.

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
from a worn-out picture that my mother had
and I knew the scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old
and I looked at him and my blood ran cold,
and I said, "My name is Sue. How do you do?
Now you're gonna die." Yeah, that's what I told him.

Well, I hit him right between the eyes and he went down
but to my surprise he came up with a knife
and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair
right across his teeth. And we crashed through
the wall and into the street kicking and a-gouging
in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell you I've fought tougher men but I really can't remember when.
He kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laughin' and then I heard him cussin',
he went for his gun and I pulled mine first.
He stood there looking at me and I saw him smile.

And he said, "Son, this world is rough and if
a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
and I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along.
So I gave you that name and I said 'Goodbye'.
I knew you'd have to get tough or die. And it's
that name that helped to make you strong."

Yeah, he said, "Now you have just fought one
helluva fight, and I know you hate me and you've
got the right to **** me now and I wouldn't blame you
if you do. But you ought to thank me
before I die for the gravel in your guts and the spit
in your eye because I'm the nut that named you Sue."
Yeah, what could I do? What could I do?

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun,
called him pa and he called me a son,
and I came away with a different point of view
and I think about him now and then.
Every time I tried, every time I win and if I
ever have a son I think I am gonna name him
Bill or George - anything but Sue.

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

the
     sky
           was
can    dy    lu
minous
            edible
spry
        pinks shy
lemons
greens    coo    1 choc
olate
s.

  un    der,
  a    lo
co
mo
      tive        s  pout
                               ing
                                     vi
                                     o
                                     lets

i have found what you are like
the rain,

            (Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
                                  with thinned

newfragile yellows

                      lurch and.press

—in the woods
                      which
                              stutter
                                        and

                                              sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
                  your kiss

Jump, you stupid ****.
   But I need just one more moment.
A moment for what?
   To say goodbye.
What is there for you to say goodbye to?
   My family, my life.
They never loved you anyway.
   Will they love me when I'm gone?
Stop fooling yourself; you're procrastinating.
   I just need my time.
Jump before you change your mind.
   I never would.
Hurry up, before someone stops you.
   Goodbye mom, goodbye dad.
You have only a few seconds.
   I'm sorry I've become so broken.
Five.
   It isn't your fault at all.
Four.
   Take care of yourselves.
Three.
   Goodbye my sisters and brothers.
Two.
   I love you all dearly.
One.
   I can't breathe.
You're not supposed to be able to.
   I really can't feel my body.
You shouldn't be able to.
   I want to turn back.
You can't turn back now.
   I want to go back to them.
You don't need to go back to loneliness.
  I don't want to die -
You're gone, accept it already.

The silent whispers of the wind
Are gently piercing the wounds
Which lay so beautifully on my arms.
Oh, how beautiful they are
In this dark night, with the stars
And the moonlight.
And for just a moment,
I want to be alive.
The air is pushing me further
Toward the end of the ledge
But my heart is beginning to beat faster.
Nervousness fills my body,
And maybe, just maybe,
This isn't what I want.
But there is no turning back
For a butterfly with wet wings.
The wind will carry it further
Until it reaches the water
And the strong pressure of it's landing
Completely smashes it's body
And leaves the blood rushing in bubbles
To the surface of the glistening water.
The butterfly will not feel air any longer
Although it's wings are meant to fly.
The butterfly cannot regain it's strength,
Although it may not have meant to die.
And suddenly, the whole world shifts.
The clouds become whiter
The water becomes bluer
The sky becomes much more bright
From the millions of stars sleeping in it.
And the world is renewed.
I know what I want,
I know what my choice is.
And just like that butterfly,
My wings become soaked
And my body sinks,
And the oxygen meant for my lungs
Is taken from me and brought
Back to the surface in the form of spheres.
Maybe someone will hear
My last scream for help.
But it's already too late to save me.

"They aren't as beautiful
as you think," he says.
But they are.
They are so beautiful
That I have nothing more than the urge
To go and create them once again.
I want to watch the dark blood race from them
And see my weights get carried along in the process.

"But they are," I say.
"They are the most beautiful things
That rest upon my body."

He smiles and pulls my sleeve
Back down over them.
"Could it be that you're insane?"

I may indeed be insane,
But right now I feel completely sane.
"Maybe," I say.

His hands wrap around both of mine
And he sits down next to me.
Even though only our hands are touching,
I feel like every inch of our body is interlocked.
I feel his soul bury it's way through mine.
"If you're insane,
I suppose I'm drawn toward insanity."