its unmistakable
not just another caravan of faces
not just another passing year
under a strange sky
iv reached the edge of the world
nothing but open sea to my back
as far as the mind can see
and i'm riding a west wind on a quickness breeze
on a middle of the night skiff
to the the small island
where she waits for me
where she sleeps tonight
the bold song gone soft an slow
the guarded smile relaxed into a champion of joy
and conquers all her sadness
with a single tilt at the windmills
like a knight in shining armor

nothing but deep sea
nothing but night salt and sea

and as i draw near
she sings from her soul to mine
come to me lover
laugh
yes cry out loud with all your joys
laugh pure and easy
i'm the mood for you boy
i'm in the mood for your hand in mine
dance in my heart
its a warm night in the tropics
and we got the world to ourselfs
so may i have this dance
spin
dip

ballroom of sand
laugh with me
run with me
we are free
all our lives people have tried to put us away
keep us down
now look at
dancing in the stars
look at us free and easy
dance with me baby
make love with me honey
on this ballroom of sand
laugh pure and true
with simple joy
here by salt and sea
be young with me

tonight on this ballroom of sand
come home to me
warm me with your touch
comfort me with your eyes
iv waited so long come home to me

nothing but open sea at my back
and i feel so alive
i feel so free
and my lover is near iv never been so alive
running a western quickness breeze
on a skiff heading home
to her
jezebel

this tangled thought
this presence behind everything around you
even in her

nestled into the background static of the mind
its interference is on a basic level
like the screaming ringing in your ears
perceived on all levels of consciousness
you cannot escape it
it is you

you rock ion your chair in primal effort
to release
you pace and worry your hands
smoke incessant
but it shadows your every step
as it attacks your reason
as it delivers blows to your peace

it reaches mortal combat
as you toss and turn
wrestle with the blankets of your once safe bed
motion and thought become sickness
that cannot cease of their own accord

it pervades
like the scents
of death
slow and overpowering

she is yours
and yours alone
this terrible night
and alone you will remain

you took your own life
buried at the crossroad
without comfort
without your head
banished by the good graces
and alone in the forever more

forgive me
please forgive me

the Spanish wood table
lay broken there by the door
its cotton cloth soaked with the wine she spilled
her cigarette still smouldering like her eyes
loose on the dusty floor
the music stopped has left its echo in its place
like an intangible trail into the
mystery's of night
into the mythology of her tales
riding a mare of nightshades
wailing fears and regrets
has she departed for the end of empires
where has she gone
how can we go on with this brave tale
with this misadventure
without her brave face

walk down into the crowded house
walk slow thru their confused and frightened faces
'senior what shall we do now that she is gone
who could have lead her astray'

and as the the tolling bell raises the alarm
dawn creeps into the room
like a thief come for the rest of our treasured hopes
like a fat banker come for our gold

they ride hard out in all directions
searching for some trace or track
there will be hell to pay
they have sworn blood oaths
and have readied their sharp knives
they will find thouse responsible for stealing her away
someone will pay for this
the newspapers all scream

then our cat wanders back in the door
and curls up at my feet
oh ok
she came home

its late
and the stale September air feels
to linger on a hint of something impending
search for its meaning
but the stars are muted by sky
and.she lay here sleeping peacefully
so all the known
is reduced to stark words
penned to page so long ago
the instruments of its creation have since
turned to dust and bones
have become like September air
the forever transition
between warmth of loving summer
and the cold grip of winter

its late
and the September air is stale
in my chest
as I breath quietly next to my lover
as she dreams
of me
I entwine my hand in hers
and urge sleep to overtake me
so I can join her smiles
and run with her in our dream

absent words speak loudly in the minds eye
often heard more clearly that the ones that are spoken
all the things that one wished had or could be said
the absent person also speaks
in your heart

her smile was
worn down by the road
and it seemed to her nothing could
lift her spirit
nothing could lift the storm from her brow

and you can feel the soft leather of his boot echo on down the hall
as he steps into the story
and there no joy to be had
there's no place to hide from this face of you

she had thought to
escape into the vast desert of the pages of history
lost to track or trace but
she knew someone would come for her
like a derelict pantomime of a gunslinger
both barrels hot to the touch cold to the eye

he came in to the busy room
and caught her eye
like a morning dove catching the first ray of sunlight
beautiful was the moment in her heart
beautiful in her mind
he was slick and neatly appointed from
his dark brown hat dipped to cover one dark eye
to his boots of spanish leather
that made a hollow sound in the sudden silence

a hush had fallen on the awed gathering
they had heard of men like him
coming up north out the wild country
coming up looking for fortune and fame
with the gun and the deck of cards
but they had never seen such a creature up close
and you could smell the fear
in every man
but you could taste the barely muted desires
in every woman there

the next day at the break of day
she lay with him
a gentle place in her heart had opened
she felt hope
she felt a coolness in the hot breeze
a rose had grown and there was no denying it
like a force of nature
like a tower never breached

and so it lay
a rose so sweet
on the breaker of the changing tides
waiting for sunrise
laying with one of the wolves
she had changed him
woman is a force of nature
that no man can understand
and no man can resist

memory
and the city lights fading behind me
the wheels turning in the night
the tears called upon to save you have decayed
faded into the cake of makeup
stretched on your parody smile
put a candle on that babe and celebrate another year

twenty miles outa town
stopped my buick
'neith the highway sing
and in the cool desert moon
made love to another woman
just to have another falling star to chase
shes a little cracked but she can smile
yes she can
and that's a ray of pure sunshine to this broken heart
that's a glass of gladness in the chambers of sour

i owe a thousand apologies
but none of them east of the mississippi
so i head to sunny florida
spend all my time in the rain
writing letters home to the mountains of the moon
serenity is just another girl after all
isnt that what she would say
a fun pile of hot packed in skintight jeans
but just a girl

tried to find a narrow path in the thorns
attempted to get round the snags
but milkmaids and **** kings
are all too sure that id fail someday
and they wait with bated breath for me to be
on my knees
but im making a new lifetime outa the dust
im carving a new hope outa the curses laid on me
ill make it because im resolved like iron ink
but im rusting like rainwater
and there is nobody i can hope not to offend

i had thought to find your hand to hold
and standing here in the rain
wish itd work its way out
im so weary of the futile chase
but you left on a train headed north to go find my enemies
to deal out some measure of justice

im resolved like iron ink
rusting in the american sun
nobody's treasure
born to wait
come home someday

she perfumes your thoughts
with the soft scents of her mind
and your vision of the day
resolves around her hand holding yours
her gaze wanders into yours
and as it laughs with carefree abandon
you loose yourself in her grey eyes
loose your soul willingly in that
wild and deep sea
she smiles as to say
the beauty of that comfort given
is just as deep and loving as what's received
its that unspoken conversation
its that sharing soul to soul
that makes life
an abundant garden of the heart

it all ways seemed to me
that its a simple affair
knowing which way to head your feet
which way to dip your hat
to cast off that west wind
seems like a logical kinda thing
to know what kind of man is standing behind ya
when you come up to bat
and are counting on a fair shake

but wouldn't ya know it
that just as you cross the fine line
between all your yester-years mistakes
and all the things you came to regret
in hindsight
you discover that the fine line
is more like a razor blade cut
dividing you from all the things
you could change if you could
and the man behind ya has got his eye
on your wallet and position
on your two car one kid garage

so you step back and take stock
but even as you count
life is pulling the slippery
sands of possession slip
through your fingers
so your tally just don't make sense
and you cant keep track of who's knives
you have stuck in your back

it all ways seemed to me
to be a simple affair
of picking the right way to proceed
but there are all ways
three hundred things to know to every choice
and none of em ever leaves me
holding the girls **** hand
hey serenity where the hell are you
i wanna kiss ya
no i don't
i want to laugh with ya

seemed like such a logical thing to do
but now i begin to see
that no choice you make
be the right one all the time

i miss ya

the days all seem to blend into one
long song of regaling minstrels of mixed temperament
and poets of a different tongue
all she can say to you as she shows you the door
is that she wishes you well
and hopes you enjoyed the ride
cause you know its the right thing to do
and she kisses your cheek
out into the night you shuffle
you wander the carnival of the city streets
and wonder at the creatures of night
who don't need a home to know who they were born to be
who don't need directions to know right from wrong

the passive shadow
retreats across the floor
as the day slips
my gaze rides the rays
out the window to
breathtaking panorama of sky
but after few moments
the skies silent awe evaporates
as day crowds back in

these are days in the length of my years
that i pause to ponder the small ripples
the slight thing that becomes a tidal wave
later in life
sets in like the worn heel
of favored running shoes
its bitter dregs taste sweet in comparison
to the taste of her eyes as she rejected the venture

its a fine gift
like a box of gold
like a treasure of the soul
but it is not real
it is not true
it is simply a feeling of comradeship
a heartfelt desire that things could be different

late afternoon sunlight
through the narrow window
falls on the burnished oak
bringing to life the the beloved scents
of childhood home
my parents library
of books spread through the house
and all that knowledge that once thought was so precious
has turned into a phone that dont ring

the passive shadow
retreats across the floor
as the day slips
my gaze rides the rays
out the window to
breathtaking panorama of sky
but after few moments
the skies silent awe evaporates
as day crowds back in

and i remember that i was once a footloose son
and once danced in the dust of a summer sun
with a girl wearing a rose printed dress
and all seemed so right and true that day
and it was
and it was

these are days in the length of my years
that i pause to ponder the small ripples
the slight thing that becomes a tidal wave
later in life
these days are long gone before they ever came
aint that just like her

its winter  
its night in the minds eye
you saw me
you did not speak
you didn't reach out to me
as i passed slowly by
carrying my hearts apocalypse
bleeding from the bitter mote
of that one moment memory
of that point which contact was lost
of that tender touch that remains the last i shall ever have
lean on the steady
but the weight sweeps you off
your newborn feet

the all seeing eye
is really blind
nobody seems to care tho
they all carry on as though knowledge is known
and peace is unattainable

his Buick breaks down on a
far distant backroad
benith a billboard
advertising the end of the road
for all thouse foolish enough to believe
that redemption can be purchased
with a few slick words in the right ear
no confessional tickets
to the great beyond are accepted
in this king james version

there may be a gap
in the knowing
but there's no hole in my heart
there's nothing but love here
for thouse iv shared my road or bed with
for thouse who had a better seeing
of who I am and who I am becoming
in my everyday adventure

i was never really here with you
it was just a vision
of my slowly walking by
carrying the apocalypse of my heart
i was never your intended
never your groom of your forbidden desperation
never meant to be betrothed to your wicked game
i am miles and century's distant
and following the folly or fortune
of my own making

she is miles distant
as you wait in a creeping rain
its soft and constant
soaked the waterproof hood
and slowly works its way
onto you
a drop at a time
like an army sneaking in
they know they can conquer
they know its a matter of time before you too
succumb and are soaked too
its patient
just to mess with you it
suddenly cracks thunder overhead
into the mezmerizing quiet
and makes you jump startled
rain must get a real kick out of
making you jump like that
I know it gets its jollys making ya wet
and it'll stop raining after you get picked up
two seconds after you hop in the car
it'll quit
complain about rain
old as them thar hills
nonsense

ornate cage
lay in the small clearing
its rusted door shut
but it could not contain
it failed its birthright
it has an odor
like the blades of murders
like the taste of living in constant apprehension
drag its heavy steel frame
to the edge of the road
thinking to take it and destroy it
to be free
to be running

loaded heavy the truck
labored in the long hot miles
the ornate cage towering over its transport
the heavy air tears at it
and it leaves a reddish black trail
of rust like a decaying mind
and even the lesser of the nameless can track
as you race the tropical sun to the
killing floor

the rain is the whole world smashing down
from the livid grey sky
and the cold scrapes at my lungs
hunched over i grasp the cage
by its greasy handle
and drag it to the fire
the one that has burned here since time was forgotten
im gonna break this evil spell
i cast the cage into the flames
she breaks free and
the horrible cage of her lust
is running amok once again
the disassembled disease
of her lie is free to destroy
ornate cage is still nothing but a cage
no matter how much makeup your put on her

i recall the days
spent lazin in the shade
of that old elm
passin round thoughts
on what the world could be
if we could shape things
on what we would do
if we could make things

i recall the nights
spent with thouse female friends
and lovers tween the sheets
finding a thousand ways
to make a smile
and fumblin thru a thousand more
to make a moan

measure me not by who you once thought i was
measure me by the life iv lead
measure me by the times iv stood
when others would have walked away
the joys iv shared in
and thouse who remember me
for who i am

these days
are bright in the minds eye
bright in the heart
there is hope enough
to carry me through
enough to sooth my soul

its gonna be a great day

the room of stained
walls filthy with crumbling decay
edifice of the polite world diseased and addicted
a tribute to the troubled world
and its manyfold ways of not seeing
what is in plain sight
what is plainly wrong

a child hungry and cold
on the street corner
big city america

grand celebration of small voices filled with regret
people who have always been unheard
speaking in ever louder voices
but they remain silent compared to the
great machines of money and power
the grand design of greater comforts and better packaging

things have changed
it has gotten better
a generation tried to stop a war
and tried to find lasting peace
but gave birth to social reform
and social openness
a rational discussion of things
an altered course
from the altered minds

but more needs to happen
there is still a child on a street corner
cold and hungry
homeless shelters are money makers
for the new social support business
the war on drugs is the cash cow
for the drug rehab and prison industry
these are things that must change

america is a process

the room of stained
walls filthy with crumbling decay
edifice of the polite world diseased and addicted
a tribute to the troubled world
and its manyfold ways of not seeing
what is in plain sight
what is plainly wrong
i should have a place to live
and enough to eat
we all should

oh chest pain
oh chest pain
what a pain in the tucas you are
your no fun
your no fun

oh chest pain
oh chest pain
dont come knockin at the door
really hate having drop by
such a pain in  the ***
oh chest pain
oh chest pain

oh chest pain
oh chest p[ain
dont make me pick up the phone
call the paramedics
they make all kinds of noise
and make such a mess
oh chest pain
oh chest pain

oh chest AAGGG!!
(and the chessy poet drops dead pen in hand)
and oh chest pain roams the land
being a pain the tucas
to young and old alike

a piece of wood
with a whisper of a stream
a place as familiar to me as my woman's smile
a place known to me as the years
we used to go there and drink beer
we used to spend hours
by that dumb little stream
talking bout how we was gonna get away
from our dumb little town
conquer the world
and never ever look back
never look back

forty years later
im flipping the pages of my day
laughing with new friends
and there is that place
that piece of wood
with a nothing whisper of a stream
lookin up the hill
wykagyl golf course
by the 8th
and it all came back
all my long lost friends not seen in forever
were right here with me

but it isnt my home
its a place far away
trick of the eye
trick of an old mans fading memory's
but thats ok
it was nice to visit
that piece of woods
with its nothing whisper of a stream

banished by her
stern glance
she requires your attentions
but you have none to spare
your mind occupied with
wondering and daydreaming

its the tightrope
between the reality
outside and the reality inside your head
hard not to get lost in
the cycle

she noticed me
but I cannot get beyond
the notions
cannot find path through
my own obscuritys
its hard to see

poison the root of
your point of view
with lawless thoughts that
run rampant on the ideal
that past shapes future and
nothing can inturupt that stream
of cyclical motion

break the cycle
her hand in mine
I need not face tommorow alone
neither do you
I can be there for you
if you want

drill
i thought i left all this madness behind
thought it was a product of the eighties
but there in my rearview mirror
the narrative of single form insanity is closing the gap
the mystery engine
glides on the silent motion of daily demise
drill

drill
all thouse years ago
it was a simple affair you see
it was all just a song and dance away
a soft shoe shuffle
to get some medication
and a chat with a sympathetic plastic face
back in thouse whacky good ole days
in New York's sunny
nineteen eighties
drill

drill
someone is slipping in behind me
knife in hand'
they are plotting
i should just run while iv got a chance
the gate is open
and there is some ****** thing she is offering
at the end of the road just there round the bend
if i plunder today for tomorrows bankrupt mind  
drill

drill
i am sitting here in a dark room
asking that will you please hold my hand
the walls have closed in and im waiting for voices
waiting for the slow slide into the dark
please take leave of your schedule
and pencil me in for some ****** help please
drill

drill
its raining outside
and there is a wood at the end of the lane
im sure i could slip away unseen
repair the once great engine
that destroyed
rebuild the great machine that once
wreaked havoc
lets just drill thru the protective cover
and get our greasy little fingers on this trigger

morning seeps into the minds eye
like a process of madness
and as this place revealed
as this method is unveiled
the screaming, throwing things, acting out
thats expected seems to be a safe bet
the pout of childish behavior seems inevitable
i pause and wish i could find an easier way
i dont want to try suicide again
that ran out of entertainment value a long time ago
when a good friend succeeded

leaving my hopes and dreams in a small pile
that looks too much like litter
and makes me sad
cause now i know its really over
your really gone
and your never comin home
we are never gonna watch that german sunrise
on a western shore bungalow
gather up my belongings
and my heartstring longings
and step gingerly carefully onto the hardpack
lean out onto the road
put out my thumb
and begin to whistle softly some nineteen eighty eight tune
fastbender

drill into the the mislabeled logic
past the protective layers
and get your greasy fingers round this
you second generation second rate  hippy fu^^face
time is up and your lies are thin
gimmie my due or gimmie my leave
stop with the ******-social babble
and talk to me
or let me out of this monkey house

with a words full of soft smiles
she gently slides me into a mistake free zone
she gives me a cup of joe and a comfy chair
in the waiting room
pauses to give a wary glance to my
backpack and filthy jeans
but thats quite allright she seems to say
a rubber stamp will give a glancing blow
knock the dirt from this
plundered one
she sits down at her desk and pushes the keys
setting the engine in motion
the machine in gear
to end this long day

ill find some peace and comfort
soon enough i tell myself
in some quiet corner or room
padded by charity
medicated by soft compassion
soft compassion drilling into exposed bone

the wall quietly bleeds
the conversations of next doors
distorted masses
five loose angry souls
sound like a choir of the dammed
milling about on the wood floor
of their own personal private version of hell

she interrupts the process
of your steam engine thought pattern
seeking the real depth of a summer day
looking for the bottom of cup of coffee
in all the midnights you've wandered through
naked to the truth
naked to the waiting for revelation of the greater being
but she cant get past the church she sees in your eye
inside your own version you are
overrun with fast thoughts
little ones that are like nervousness fingers
they get into every crevasse of your vanilla mind
push them away but they sneak
round and come from the sides
come at you from the depths of her eyes
at you from the heights of
the big boss mans neatly pressed carpet
at you from the Red Barron's little plane
that used to hang from your brothers ceiling
all thouse years ago

to her truth is a defense of last resort
to make normality reduced into a *******
the beauty of half measures
to be the nirvana of her lifestyle is to be a moral *****
whatever treasure of slogans sells the best today
is the one she spreads with her abnormal disease of love
her spiritual life is governed by popularity and brutality
she has told the same lies for so long she even believes them
she is what she is
not quite death incarnate
but an animal of the same fur
a face holding the same memories
a brother to the madness inside her
the truth is never far away
but it might as well
be lost in the mountains of the moon

wake in the morning to
after effect
the sharp edge of consequence
that brings misadventure into startling focus
not quite death incarnate
but an after effect of its nearness
you dry heave with the sudden and present fear
and the knowledge it carries
i wrestle all night with tomorrow
a left handed struggle against the cold facts
that i cant foresee
a word twist can attest to my incapable process
as the knowledge sinks in

my poems grow shorter
as my life slips into the denser wood
the night overtakes me
fare thee well friends
haste not to the gallows
for it seeks each man in his turn
and gives no credit for words
***** or barren
gives no comfort nor wine
for the grieving
or the celebrating
just gives cease to the roads aspiring minstrel
and his forlorn tune of loss

after effect lingers with a taste of gunmetal
is copper tinge leaves impressions in the eye
that time cannot vacate
and love cannot appease
once again i come
the miles a man treads are the measure of his soul
i advance the thought that you see my own threadbare nature
reveal my own worn feet
and ask if i have not exceeded the pretense she lied
gone above the expected
i cannot move mountains
but i can move hearts and minds
a poet, a wordsmith, a pen jockey
a introspection in a lesser volume of words
i am a mover of hearts and minds
a poet
a wordsmith
a craftsman of phrase

the keepsake of former years shattered
slowly seep thru each dense  syllable
like glass ground underfoot
as memory's get shredded by change
i insulate myself from the unbearable
and sift thru the ashes

she presses her face to the glass
staring out with a worn eye
pushing her stone
she gasps for breath
the room she infests has a chipped and bruised floor
where her naked feet dance in the dust bunnys
leaving traces like tales of her days
footfalls of a sneaking doom

she cries in her sleep
and stutters a used and warm phrase
it highlights certain aspects of her wild form
as it bends along the lines of conversation
like a momentary prisoner of our daily premise
she escapes answering revealing things
but is trapped by showing her smile

breaking into the memory
you steal away your moments with her
in your arms dancing
steal away the hours without fear
and hope to find somthing that can
endure beyond the dream
live out side the vision
keep your warm in the cold light of day

its in her glass encased old room
that she waits pulling wires out of boxes
and humming a song that she cant remember the words to
but loves nevertheless
pressing her face to the glass
her worn eye searches for the path leading away
from here
from her
hoping to find her own escaping form
fleeing into the sunshine

the quiet engine of passing time
produces gremlins in the shadows of morning
they steal the warmth from his cup of coffee
they place landmines on his daily road to perdition
'this is what madness must be like'
he said to himself as the dawn seeped into the room
one tear stained ray of sunshine at a time
because each added moment lighted reveals
more of her damaged face
more of her impossible eyes

her words hurt his ears as she bleeds his strength
she is a peddler of perils
whats your fantasy she cries out
tied to the railroad tracks like a maiden
or walking the long mile with the skeleton key in hand
the key opens all enduring keepsakes
and releases them to crawling thieves
you cannot retain your world for more than
a flickering moment
so you loose faith that it can ever be done
i miss her
and i miss my daughter
but she is a peddler of perils
and she now comes grinning and fast *******

my head full of noise
so my thoughts gather round
like they are at the Battle Of The Alamo
to the necessity of self preservation
and the warm comforting blanket of self interest
manufacture reasons to do what the ***** dictate
but its her goal to see such endeavor
fold under the weight
of her guilt trip

back in the echo box
she quietly shouts into
the acoustic confusion
madly laughing and the ensuing army
of echoes marching in lockstep to her mad mad laugh
of her mad mad laugh
of her mad mad laugh

we spend the day between the
sheets wrestling each others sweaty forms

i miss her

Intensity wanes as the day gathers warmth
and the vision that would have sustained
the words to be written has dulled
like a bakers blade heated and carved with fine line art
it serves its need with only a taste of the true intent
her ***** limbs and loose cloth dress
entangle the process in deeper things
never intending to let loose
never intending to reveal

the day endures the slow man
his fractured path along the road
is broken along the lines
of his bitter fears
which he announces like prayers to the humid sun
of his deliberate contortions of face and hand
which he offers up to the sky like sacrificial virgins

his staggered stepping
takes him past my door
his pet stops at the verge of its leash and
in no uncertain terms begs for sympathy
but for him or itself is unclear

thick on my face
slowly advancing stages of sorrow
each new thing brings to light
a new aspect of the diminished man
iv become since she opened the door to such
mystery theater and misery laden faces

her ***** limbs
her patchouli scents
her pre-printed desperate pleas are wooden
and filled with hidden hope
that throw off from her intended meaning
leaving one wondering who is confused
you or the far crowd abuzz with anticipation
she kneels and strips
soft carved delicate lines
with spider lines of ink and sweat
she humps the moment for its worth
before pulling on her dress once again

the words have lapsed
and i am left with only her dull empty waiting
and my own diminished soul

grains of time slip thru fingers unabated
like the slipstream of her words
all thouse meanings slipped by
unawares
until madness thought to dance on the pinhead
of a logical choice
and you suddenly found yourself with
nothing to your name but your name

rebuild and reinvent who you are and meant to be
and in the sweeping away of your former years you discover that
each precious person who's love you
you received the gift of
meant just as much as all the rest
that the real value and meaning of our lives
is in the love and joys
we find in thouse around us
that share caring and positive things

its the laughter and love
the compassion and hope
we find in friends
family
strangers
that makes this worth living for

the wind chases a few dead leaves
across the grass
and i can taste the cold in the air
as my words wrap round eachother and die in the darkness
faintly echoing of my yesterday
when she was still here with me
lingering here to remind me of all that harshness that we did speak
all the things cannot be taken away
you can always add more dope
you can never take away
you can never ever take away
and she just slipped away
like the leaves chased by the cold wind
'and this game is fairly serious too'
and the tears flow
you can add more but you can never take back

i shuffle along the ***** road
to the edge of the alley where he sits in the sun
and ask
ask so quiet and so meek
please man....please can you...
musta been there for a year
maybe ten
and then she did that
she forgot the golden rules
forgot the way to go
and somthing black and sticky came to take her away
made her sleep
but it aint so restful
in the cold

the wind chases a few dead leaves
through the years
and catches one in a tenement with a spike
catches another in the park with a blade over a bag of ****
caught her doing more than she shoulda
more than she shoulda
you can always add more
you can never take back
i want her back

the small wooden floor room
where she spreads her trinkets
her mystery box spells and
potions in tiny bottles

she lay there amidst her tokens and treasures
and sings softly along with a song
that plays in the distance
on a radio
a song that speaks to her of simpler times
and beautiful people
of a better world we all left behind decades ago
a world she could rejoin if she belived hard enough

the days when she holds enough hope
there is a smile
and she faces out towards the sun
but i dread the days when
she captures a glance at the reflection  
of her fast vanishing days
and how little things have changed in her life
her smile is gone on thouse days
her face is a shadow
i must carry her through
days like that she needs my strength
to keep from getting trapped

the crisp blue skies
frame the giant oak tree that we lay under
leaves float down here and there
with vivid fall color
you can taste fall in the air
you can feel it in the texture of her conversation
as she talks of hallows eve
and Christmas

William Tell
Ivanhoe and Chaucer
its the season for dinner theater
its the season for a bottle of red wine in the sand
by the river
and the tales to be told
grand ventures to be undertaken
in bold and fast words alone

she takes your hand
and with a deep smile touches your lips
with her fingertip
and begins to speak
but you never get to hear what she would have said

you awaken sheets soaked in sweat
twenty years on
and she still visits you near every night
sometimes its her on the beach where she died
sometimes its the weeks that lead up to that
godforsaken day
twenty years
twenty years
twenty years

soapbox man has
measured the moments
in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and to her soapbox man is god
as she slides slowly thru the dense air of his self contained contentions
in the the small wood floor room
its freedom to her
soapbox man has come and she is here
to get her fix
of his brand of guns to subjugate the dead
and iron fist rusting in a vacant lot brand of rule
its freedom to her

echoes down the bridge road between realitys
a woman laughing in slow motion
the tread of boots on marble
oddly distorted pieces of conversation
that are appended to soapbox heroes
who preach
that those not with us are against us
and should be punished for their cruel foolishness
this is not heaven
its a place that wears the face of grace on earth
it wears the mask of memories warm and kind
its peace and freedom to her
its a lie
this is the nature of the human beast
what reality we dream is pleasing
no matter how toxic

in the the small wood floor room
she dose a wet step soft shoe little hip swing dance
to music only she and god can hear
and as time passes
and it eats from within
she falls to the floor
and crumbles to dust
a fragment of humanity
on a pergo floor
and its freedom to her