she wears a set of keys
on a chain round her neck
one for each of the nights alone
unlock my heart with these she whispers as if it were obvious
but then she casts her love letters into the river
saying that nobody ever understands her point of view
so we might as well all be blind
there are no real desperate words
on her tragically trembling lips
but what dose come out jiggles like a carnival crier
to the harmonica players thoughtful song
she used to sing it in the coffee shop she loved
back in one of her yesterdays
now her days are an egg shell blue patchwork of plaster fixes that
define the destitute box and its failings at life's tiresome money game
its trail of paperwork attempts to find a prophet
who could give us a defining moment and photo op for time magazines cover
somebody to tell us that we are on the wrong road
she spends her days taking care of me and
sweeping up the dusts
of all our yesterdays
and neatening up the lines of mason jars
filled with jams and jellies
the sunlight falling through them makes a rainbow she smiles to me
as she settles into a cup of coffee to stare wistfully off into the morning
i ask what's shes thinking but she never dose say
she just runs a thin hand through her auburn hair
and laughs that its snowing somewhere far away
that some field in a distant wood is peaceful and filled with the grace of innocence
that one finds in the stillness of fresh snowfall
that one finds in a newborn child
or a newborn day

her words laid out before
me like a feast of the fanciful mind
and her inner demons like ravens of the soiled soul
hold themselves at the ready with wary eyes
her words spill in slow honey
smooth on the minds tongue
and leaves an aftertaste like mull wine
leaves one lightheaded and without inhibition
i become a drunkard of her thought
forever lounging near her lips in my mind
waiting for the intoxications to begin

my own words come like the unshaven behemoth
like the fair maidens foul brother
my conversation a meal with dance of the clumsy attempt
each step has a sticky note of scrawled apology attached
like new lovers trying too hard
being overly tender with eachothers words

her heart has spoken its mind
and she feels childish recanting its
written in stone meanings
so she follows
silently behind with her head hanging low
trying to be picture perfect
in the pliant girlfriend role

the inner demons like ravens of my own soiled soul
each moment spent like a misers coin
harpie fingers oiled grip
on the narrow metal
slipping ever so slowly past the eye
each day i sit here and watch as the sun settles
like dust onto the deadpan horizon
each day i pray fervently that i find
a better phrase than the one i live

sorrow makes its way in
like an old friend bearing his treasured gifts
the photograph and letter
that you cannot bear to part with
he settles into your empty room
and sits with you in his silent way
while you grind your soul
slowly over the past and what you have lost there
he gently takes your hand and leads your heart
deeper into the rapture
of longing for what you cannot have
for that which is lost beyond redemption
she lay beneath headstone
in small Massachusetts town
fall leaves and now snow lay quiet blanket
on her resting soul
sadness bring you here in dream
from the miles where you lay
to stand unabashed weeping
in the cold dark of night
sorrow betrays you
but you cannot care
it consumes you
until you are blind to all else
until you are withered
lay down next to her and take your rest
none will blame
none see
but your old friend
sorrow

the plight obscene to her
as the denied
she stands in the corner shouting into
the nearness of the unyeilding wall
that its unfair
nighttime cannot fend fot itself
the disease of light will infect its borders
and spread across the skys pallet
the deformity called sight will
allow others to see
her sad face
sitting in a broken shopping cart
with her white party dress torn
her makeup a puddle of tears
they will all be able to see
she isnt the engine of perfection anymore
that she isnt factory fresh and polished
its unfair that night
must suffer the inglorious day
that it must be blighted by light
unfair i tell you
she cries into the paint
standing in her humble corners
dire straights and desperate measures
on her magical mind

the shadows are long on the wooden floor
i can see the etchings of every weary foot
that has sought rest in this place at worlds end
there's a mist forming where the sun is burning off the rainwater
and the light is getting golden
that kind of glow that romances every face
that makes even the darkest night
seem comforting
her dress clings to her shoulder with a fine sweat
and her eyes cast down till i cup her chin
and she looks up at me
and thats all iv ever needed
the shadows are making inroads to making me sleep
so we step outside
and i gently pass my hand over her face
and her whisper clings to me
like a softly spoken hurricane
she leads me to the bed
and pulls me down into her scented arms
down into the sweet darkness of her love affair
and i am filled with the sounds of my
triumph and submission all at once
a sound like a hard race car engine
with the sigh of an old man
like the sound of a mid summer moon
high up in a warm forgiving sky
far above all the toil and mud
up here in her bed
in her arms
watching the shadows of the sun make
inroads to darkness
in a south florida motel room
a rain storm is comin

weaved into her thoughts
are the disturbed images and the maniacal music
carousel music from the macabre circus of the mad
and in the absolute center of this
steampunk master vision is her pretty little face
sitting with a lace umbrella
and a slow thick smile
she eyes you head to boot
and reaches out a single blood stained finger
and says accusations are for the weak
her pasty red lips are
sour to the touch
she makes no apologies
but rather relies of her smile like charms
which she wears like
a patchwork quilt of maniacal methods
stitched with loving care
and the devotions of the needy
who pay her fare without questions
she is stylin on the main street bus tonight
with her entourage of hungry strangers
just looking for a bed and breakfast
and its delusion that
after a time
the clouds passed
after a time
measured in the millions of years
that her touching your face lasted
looking into your eyes and telling you that she loves you
after a time everything would change
and she would remember what it means to be happy
after a time under a maniacal lace umbrella

synopsis of trajectory type tragedy
the day after the dreaded day
and the meals limp leftovers now
stuffed into the bulging fridge
our new neighbour taps at the door with a
synopsis of trajectory type tragedy
she spills her daily story with soft sounds
all over the living room glass table
and plays with its entrails
while trying with halfhearted desperation
to pry certain monies from certain people
without being too specific cause then that'd be rude or something
her projectile vocal charade slowly subsides
into a vapour trail of trying to get her get well
out of the spare change the sing flier has left behind on
the last beer run of the night next door
he is passed acknowledging himself
her feet ignite the carpet
when the bag achieved is glory in her ***** pocket
she cooks her dinner in a spoon
and the night is
spent chasing the fluff across the spaces in her mind
and deep in bathroom mirrors
fascinated by the focus
and delicate operations it takes to get
the place into what it shouldn't be
she falls asleep with her hand in some old mans pocket
as the sun creeps over the lost horizon
she admits in a whisper
that we have become the lost children
that we have become shadows of what we once thought so grand
filthy clothes replace
the latest threads from the fashion house
and the newest thoughts are fresh off the press too
the defend the empire of the needy
and require the few to to fend for the many
but the reality is
we live hand to mouth
day to day
desperation is measured in moments
that you cannot answer the tears in her eyes
she rattles around the kitchen
making me coffee
and two eggs over easy
but her own breakfast she cooks in a spoon
the projectile tragedy was the last
thing i wanted to relive
but here she is on my living room carpet
my ex chatting with my current
and im in the other room
holding
out hope that someday you will cease
this and come home to stay
the candlelight denied its own shadows
it moved with the wind but resisted change
it was a late fall evening
and the wind had grown cold
with winters first touches
and there in the only light
she showed me her face full of trackless tears
and the troubled things that lay within her mind
the choice of changing words
never spoken clear never spoken quick
but the story they gave me was
a dark tale flowing from her past
the places she had been in the years
and how she was
hoping to come home at last

the pen has rusted
and the hand has grown old
are there any words left to say she wonders aloud
are there any roads left to walk down
the rain keeps my head in places id rather not be
and there are too many people trying
to make thick walls before me blocking my way
there are highway lights that are like deep oceans
and small rivers of the logic that must be bridged
there is so much standing in the way
i wonder if i can keep going on with this
even write another word
but they keep coming
not always so easy not always even worth saying
but they come anyway
because there are heavens in the eye
there are summer fields in the heart
full of life and birdsong
that its hard to just turn and walk away
still dream of it years away
its the kind of thing who's beauty catches you by surprise
and takes the breath away
cause its that moment for me when the
words strike true to the song of my day
when the words hit home to what i'm feeling
to what i'm burning to say
that it lives for me
that the rest of the world falls away
when the small minds and the troubled hearts
disappear into the darkness they live for
and i'm here in the bright light
of the knowing
of the perfect line
of the good phrase
that taps cleans
that shows true to the thought

she lightfoots it out the backdoor
and heads for the nearest highway
says there wasn't enough romance in my last words
so shes gonna jump ship
and go find another place to sink into despair
she loves to be in love
and needs to wear it all the time
like a remnant of her yesteryear round her wrist
so all the other girls can hover and be jealous
i stand there looking at her saying all this
and i admire her and her big hat
gotta admit don't know where i'm headed either
but i'm trying to make sense of the
things written on the roundhouse wall
cause there isn't any truth greater
than the truth of innocence
its got nothing to prove
and it holds no grudges
and the truth is that i love her
so i grab her hand
and together we ran away from
the desperation of the ignorant
and the cruelty of the small hearted
the stars may fall
but if you catch em in your delicate hands
i can paste em in the scrapbook
and we can have them forever
to remember these days
paste em on the walls so
we can smile at them while making love
and that's enough for me
why aint it enough for you
she smiles and makes a house out of lace doilies
its gonna be our home sweet dream
but the gambler and the rose faced mother-in-law
fall all over themselves to stop us from leaving
cause they need someone to blame
too proud to admit they lost their humanity long ago
they will fade into shells of shadows
and get lost in a strong western breeze
a voice says to me that there's no time to loose
and i break open the day
and stare in stark wonder at all the lives
i could have lived had i not come this way
or followed this road on the way to see her
new clothes and her new dog
with its sparkling new leash
captured him to keep her company
its a tragic story to be sure and it shows in his face
its written in big easy to read letters on the side
of our now empty home
she left with her dog and a snake salesman
leaving me here side of the strange road with a naked dready honey
and a pocket full of apologies
but they aren't worth the paper they were never written on
the air they breath in my pocket is slowly leaving them
no choice but to escape back to the mouth that spoke them
and the uncomfortable lips that spawned them
the dready honey takes me by the hand
kisses away the shadows on my heart
and builds a house out of tye-dye scraps and lace doilies
now i sit in the warm breeze with sand 'tween my toes
and relish the daylight

'its the last stand'
she laughed as she said it in passing
as she walked down to the riverbank
from the sky the sun broke through a bank of clouds
and lit the scene with brilliant light
could see every detail in her beautiful face
could see the flaws in her thinking
but even knowin it was folly
followed her down
cause when you got your hand in another's heart
you follow even into the most foolhardy
cause for good or ill
we set the day spinning
and time passed slow while we waited for
things to pan out
while we waited to see how deep we had
just dug ourselfs
she just laughed
the rain had finally passed
and the sun slowly walked out from behind
and the grass sparkled with hundred fold tiny suns
like the night sky in broad daylight
barefoot she wanders these deep waters
holding up the edge of her new dress
giggling like a promise
of a future
of hopes
she was a woman of the season
and she lived it well

the rag man
sits under the freeway bridge
while it rains
a small lizard crawls out of
the sandy soil
its emotionless eye focused
the desolate day
breeds sand blown wind burned faces

a chill wind speaks its mind to him
and while he huddles within his torn coat
and with one eye bare to the world
watching for the rains retreat
the rag man eats slow
savours the fresh water fish taste
of his divided mind
waits for the rain to retreat

remnants of his life
cling to his pocket
lint covered photographs
dust filled half remembered dreams
he believes he carries all he will ever need for
the road he sits by that
follows the coast down into the sunny islands
where they say you can live on the beach
where all you need is a dream to thrive

each sound is the great beyond
trying to tell him significant moments of his day
no rattle of the chain to be taken lightly
even the silence has voice in the grand scheme
even if its single contribution
is futility of waiting
step boldly or timid as doormouse
but step kiddo step

the freeway is a river
upon which the concepts we call lives float

pastel monotone thoughts paint
an image of me in her mind
complete with shrinkwrap
and a bright smiley face sticker
her eager hand sweats the dealt moment
she awaits with impatience for
her daily christmas time package
her daily reprise of her happy moment
she remembers it with fondness
her pastel colours spread slowly
like an intellectual STD
a malfunction of the common man
she is a true modern miscreant
she wants a pretty girl lover
that comes complete with emo look a like
laptop gamer girl
attached the hip down to matchin **** selfies
a hundred smooth moves and cheat codes
she wants the complete package at the discount rate
shes a card carrying member of
some fan girl fandango
she calls me captain saveahoe
street nasty superhero with kung-fu grip
trailing through the dank alleys
in search of the legendary ultimate dumpster
the prize of every divers wet dreams
wandering all night with a few vampire hangers on
looking for a fashionable means to a glorious end
meanwhile the corner girl is waiting on me
thinking i'm just trying to find her a safe place to be
she is my safe place and i'm hers
the few of us that survive the moment
stroll on through the rain
to the dairy queen
to see and be seen
dont cha' hate that whole show up
to show off
she lives to die for it
but thats ok
cause i love her just the same

her delicate finger
creates the empire of obscene in her teacup
others look on with growing alarm
it spreads slowly onto the lace tablecloth
she sat in the crowded room
and with desperate chewing on lips
announced that with her silence
she had condemned all to live without her
i reached out and found her smile
but its cardboard folded under the weight
of a hundred conversations that all took place
in the first moments our eyes touched
inadequate to the feral beast
her pristine face in the candlelight
fragile as bone china
and just as sharp when its broken fragments
lodge in the mind
seeping into the eye
she took me in her arms
slow dance in unison
with the grease lights flickering
and the hot tacky feel of cake
the stages floor creaks ever so softly
beneath her delicate foot
precursor
her finger traces the lines of all the futures
all the things we should be
and all the things we left behind
the stain grows
it is a madness in her mind
it consumes her
her sharp fragments
are scattered all over the dark corners of my life
her delicate finger
creates the empire of obscene in her teacup
and i hungrily drink of its poisoned soup
thirsting for its sharp teeth
and its dark *****
her delicate fingers
are writing my doom

she looked out at me
from across her bleak miles
with a question talking rapidly in her eye
its dark center a pool of poets ink
with some kind of pencil she had drawn a line
sculpting the edge of her sight
with the unresolved love and tears that
had found their way to the world from here
i place my finger across her untouched lips
bridging the desires
and the cautions
until in her arms i found the place where
the we balanced the thought and the desires
she laughs
and peeks at me from the years
and i think how am i supposed to get any writing done
nuance in the moonlight
we tangle eachother in the sheets
kiss eachother in every way to be kissed
and laugh at eachothers mumbling pokes
nobody is an expert at love
but shes near nuff for me
she makes me feel wonderful
from the bottom of my tired feet to
the top of my dizzy head
rose
your beyond the sun to me
your waiting for me on the sun baked beach
your waiting for the dawn in my arms
your right here in my thoughts
your a thousand thousand miles away
rose

she worries the hem of her white cotton dress
in her delicate hand
while her other hand nestled softly in mine
she looks up to my eyes
and smiles
as she gathers me up
to the hay in the barnyard
where she lay with me
and indulges me of her delights
we lay in the cool air
and she is curled up in my arms singing to me softly
the summer birds dance in the open sky
the summer afternoon sun glows golden in her eyes
she looks up into  my eyes
and without a word need to be said
and in my heart
the sunlight is devoted to her face
a worshipper of the only real beauty in the world
it caresses her delicate features
and paints my perception of her
she is a masterpiece of love
paints my vision of her
her vibrant laughter and smiles run
round in my heart
making themselves a home in my heart
and making my heart feel at home
she worries the hem of her white cotton dress
i lean in and kiss her lips
with the heartfelt adoration
of every ounce of my soul

fifty trees bereft of leaves
whipping back and forth
in a swift walking wind
by the cold waters of the river
the stone wall separates them from
the field
she sits in its shadow
facing the small stretch of sand
where we beached our rowboat
having spent the morning drifting down river
we take a rest in the shade
and eat the cold meats
salty and alive with flavours
drink the crisp wine
**** and warm
to the palate
the meal lay like an unburdened waif
sleeping sound in safe harbour
fifty trees with nothing
but a crown of birds nest
with naught but wind rocking stiff limbs
create such a sound
in the fall air
that is foretaste of winters solitude
of cold nights hand
the rain sweeps in with a
sudden rush
scattering the summer birds
that had come to sing for us
the humid thick air
shifts as the clouds overhead move
in swift silence
we sheltered in the fifty trees
till the storm had passed
i held her to me
and we made love
in the late day sun
now an old man
i wake with the fifty trees
imprinted on my thoughts
just as they had been that day
thirty seven years ago

the fast car evaporates into the inky darkness
like a hazy thought
in the summer night
like a fervent wish to endure
it rides some backroad near the county line
with some stratocaster echoing sweetly
and a crooner of these latter days
sing-talking bout all some love he had stumbled upon
in the backwoods of childhood
and the flame that endures in his soul for her sweet hand
this song fills the air of the empty road
as the fast car
plymouth grey with primer
her wheels spinning on the dust road
the river run by the metro north tracks
the stratocaster hits the end of its song
but some part of you just wants that song
to go on forever
you just want that midnight run to last forever
cause shes there with you
and she has smiles for you alone
your just like that stratocaster looking for
the opening notes of that song
that'll last forever
that'll be on her lips
be her song

daylights body wanders down the cobblestone street
and falls on the old church steps
the friar steps out of its golden doors
and tries to sweep daylight off its feet
with a ten cent broom
but he cant get a purchase
on the shadows that follow light wherever it goes
daylights groupies are naked for daylights leasure alone
so the friar retreats afraid and muttering curses
at all the power and influence the church has lost
daylights body takes a powder from that strange place
and goes down to the shore
warm up all thouse chilly babes
snowbunny's massing on the beach
pale skin honeys needing a tan
all give daylight a kiss on both cheeks
how ya been babe gimmie a call do lunch
but his is a hot phone number to have
and you gotta stand in line
to catch a breeze in that company
daylights body is dying to take a break
so he slips on down
the back road
and kissing the girls one last time
slips over the horizon
be back tomorrow
is the sticky note in the sky
snowbunnys are here and its time to fly
up to the big tree
in downtown ft lauderdale
and see what winner gets the bed in the corner
under the all night gypsy choir

the girl in room five fifteen
the royal roach motel
sitting with her box of crackers
in the setting sun
most of the time shes focused on the path
to the next drama free dream
but tonight shes putting on that red dress
and fixing up a confused face to put on
and picking up the keys to the kingdom
she strolls out the door
and up on  the avenue
shes a smile to thouse she endears
shes a shadow to thouse who dont
remember the first lesson of the road
you cant succeed till you have utterly failed
so i play her a soft song cause i know it must hurt
to be on that bitter betrayal with no way home
she toils into the night hunched over the table
to create a boxer to fight her demons for her
she makes him out of cardboard
and pictures pasted from magazines
but she is quick to judge
and kicks him out before he can say a word
so he sits quietly at the greyhound station
and crumbles slowly into his pretend memories
the girl in fife fifteen
royal roach motel
up on colorado boulevard
eating her crackers in the setting sun
waiting for her prince to rescue her
but he caught a train
and now hes in the california mountains
trying to be a better hippy
she knows she has nothing left but
the crackers
and the setting sun
i think thats a terrible way to live
but im not the one looking for perfection
in the baubles from the gutters
of colfax avenue
so glad left all that misery behind
goodnight my spanish bride of the winter
fare thee well
hope you find your kingdom

she came down out of the backwoods
looking for a better life
wearing a wreath of daisy's in her golden hair
and a grey dress a flowin
out of the morning fog into the bright daylight
of his brand new day
he sees her right off
like a bolt of lightening
she strikes all of his senses in a sudden storm
of knowing that she's the one he has
been seeking all his black diamond life
she stopped at the cabaret
and sat by the piano player
who played a song about strangers
on a collision course with desperate love
or terrible disaster
she never hears the song end
cause now its playing in her mind as she eyes him
across the crowed room
his lean face shadowed
by the flickering lights of the stage
he sits to a game of cards to buy some time
but hes just laid down a sheep with wolves
but benith the dirt of the road is his
soldiers dress blues uniform
she wanders up pretending to watch
but she really just wanted to be near him
touch a lock of his hair
he felt her there and drank in the sensation
and was drunk with her presence
the piano player burst into song
as the two of them burst in the fire of lusts
and ended up in a small room at the top of the stair
his black diamond life
and her dreadlock hair
nobody thought woulda made a match
but there they are riding into the fading sunrise

she ignites the spoon
and in the flickering light
you see the hunger of her vacant eye
you feel the heartbeat slow rush
as she plunged
the walls sweat
things are crawling everywhere
but neither of you move
only sit in the awful silence
listening to the thin whisper
of water in the distant bathroom sink
to the soft sound feel of her fingers picking at
the eternal lock
of the death clock
here again you see that horrible hunger
in the eyes that once held nothing but joys
once held you with such love
now are slowly consumed
in this dark room
in this terribly silent place
this eternal lock
of death clock
hear the thought as she slips under the guise
that this way her tears cant be found
this way nobody can see
she ignites the spoon
and in the flickering light
you can see she is already gone
gone down that dark road alone
without you
you see the hunger of her vacant eye
you feel the heartbeat slow rush
as she plunged
in this eternal lock
she picks at with fevered desperation
futile
no one escapes

slip into spectacular visions
of the wonders the world has shown me
sunsets on the open sea
sunrise on the vast silence of desert
slip into the hearts song
hear the universes true vision
finally see what i have spent
a life's age seeking
I see it in your eyes my love
iv sailed seas
walked deserts
climbed mountains
travelled my share of road
I'm home at last in your arms
I'm home at last in your heart
lay with me lover
let me swim in your mind
run in your heart
fly in your soul

hall pacers dominate the morning
sandle feet shuffle back and forth
eyes cast down travel the floor seeking the droppings
of the pacer before
the riches are in the mind
baubles of plastic and paint
the remains form a graveyard
bone thin white shards baking in an
imaginary summer sun
the unshaven huddle in the corner
watching with avid eyes
watching for the silence that follows
like a shadow... like a sad memory
weaving rhyme spoken at first attempt
he stands perfectly still in the midst of
all this random wandering
staring out into the distance of his mind
eye on the devolving thoughts
of her turning to go
turning to go
to go
go

a fire breaks out in his pants
whenever she walks into the room
but she just laughs
at how quaint he is
she has eyes only for the old man at
the end of the bar
his beat era leather socks are just up her alley
his pocket protector lifestyle is just
the thing for her wedding plans
she could always see herself
with his type of narrow shoe smart fella

he leaves her and her lover
at the dark bar
and wanders the lobster cages
looking to trap the feelings
that made him feel like
unconquerable king john
with his magna carta series pen
but this night is too full of babe sweet
and her pocket protector cowboy
so he goes home
to lay on his bed on imaginary nails
and suffer all the trials that good men should
wants to be worthy for the pay off
wants to be in line for the pearly gates

babe sweet and her man
live up the coast now
they own a bed an breakfast catering to the insane
who write great novels
on the walls in crayon
and spend their nights
hanging out on the roof singing ballads
to babe sweet
and her cowboy who lasso's the moon
its a wonderful life plays on the tv
every night year round
cause thats the dream they are sellin
that if you work hard
someday itll pay off

jerry garcia's picture hangs
in the lobby
he looks out at the changed world
with the shocked expression
of how did all these people miss the point
as they just go on beating eachother up
and crashing the gates
he is in the back room of babe sweets place
hiding from all the gretchens
and trying to redraw the lines of reality
we all got lost out there
gotta reinvent yourself
before the gretchens and the hangers on tear it all down
gotta bend the road before it bends you
just like unconquerable king john

the fast car speeds along the avenue
and she relaxes at the wheel
shell tell you she was born to drive
and with a cigarette grey haze
she leans into the telling
a story of her younger days
a summer back in the world
back in the dust of 1958
when the motorcycles rode on main street
she and her baby sister went to see
and stood back of the five and dime
marvelling at at the wild men
and the chrome machines
thouse were the days when
the future was brighter
and the dream seemed like it could be real
this light comes alive in her eye when she speaks
of thouse days
you can see the years fall away
you can almost taste the malted she drank
and almost see her in her blue dress
there at the five and dime
you can see the light in her eyes
when she is remembering thouse days
the sock hop and the drive thu
she is so much a younger soul than i
filled with all these beautiful memories
and as we drive down the hutchinson river parkway
middle of the night
in the pouring rain
robert gordon on the radio
i think to myself that she's right
she was born to drive
and i was born to be with a girl like her
oldsmobile cutlass 440 was her car
i was her man
.and rockabilly was her music

and the dissipated night has begun to
fade from memories vision
along with its bone-weary malingerers
they huddle next to the rain soaked street
and chatter in quick quiet words
and animated gestures
about the hurrying passers by
but as the day wearys of its own labours
and begins its goodbyes
they fall to silent stationary watching
each lost in the raindrops
each drifting away in the separateness
each thinking of aspects of her haunted face
and about
the devout men hunched
over their labours
far in the abyss of night
deep in silence
the sharp ringing of hammer and chisel
the scratching on pen on paper
the whisper of brush stroke upon canvas
her opulent eyes watch the creations they labour upon
gather in the colours and the sensations of each
consumes the beauty of the hearts by
devouring with her soft skin
while her bone-weary malingerers slouch in the corner
with their quick quiet conversation nimbly dances
around her bent ear
and convinces her to abandon these perilous waters
she floats to the door as only a beautiful woman can
stumbling drunk but still appearing to the masses as regal
her malingerers follow close at hand
and as each crusades for her leather hands caress
a hundred devout men cease their labours
and look up at her departing entourage
with the envy only a devout man can feel
in unison a whisper quiet sigh escapes them
and stirs the flags of empire that hang from the walls
her opulent eyes decorate the mind
but its her hand that carves the soul
now years later having abandon her perilous ways
she is the only one huddled there by the rain soaked street
begging the the kind of change that isnt made up of coins'
and making quick quiet chatter within her own mind
as night and days shuffle before her throne of rain
and the world in its own way pays homage
to her regal decay
the rain soaked street pauses
from time to time
and she watches from her perch
no sadness skates behind her eyes
a life not necessarily well lived
but lived nevertheless