you may be confused by her
apparent lack of pants
but not to worry
there is a logical explanation
and like any other explanation  i assure
you we will hunt it down and
put it out of its misery
explanations shouldn't be allowed to run loose
next thing you know we will have understandings
and that's not gonna happen
not on my watch kiddo
nothing worse than reasons for every little thing
the universe should have mystery
and her ****** should remain one of em
preferably someplace else
but there it is
she is carrying her personal plastic tupperware jesus
cause we all have our crosses to bear
and she hasnt got any pockets
i feel so bankrupt
by this ******-social  two step dance i'm getting
whatever happened to just sitting down
and talking it out
but i don't want to know
that requires an explanation
leading to an understanding
and eventually enlightenment
and oh my god don't ever say that "e" word in my presence again

she was given to tragic speechs
at a whisper in the rainswept night
at the top of the cliff
overlooking the bay
the same place she sat and watched his
ship set off to sea
she still remembers seeing him
there high in the rigging
unfurling the sail
and recalls that he may have waved fare thee well
that the last time she would ever see him
the last voyage
of that schooner
which lay broken at the bottom
of some distant sea
with all hands forever to stand at the rail
looking for homecoming
forever seek familiar shore
for a wave dancers last waltz
and there they shall lay
brothers of the sea keeping eternal watch
while pulling line
and singing songs handed down
generation of seafarer to the next
she dreams of him tonight
as she lay thirty year distant
from that stormy night
thirty years waiting to go join him
in the halls of the Almighty's kingdom

the lens of perception
gives distorted answer to the postulated mind
so you crawl thru the muddy sunshine
to her cool bed
through the ink and sweat
of her armpit flavors
to her eye
and steal away her thoughts
and childhood twisted memories

perception beats me about the head with its difficult fists
its angry it always has been
it skitters along on broken insect legs
and speaks in a undefined whisper
it ransacks my pockets of hope
perception is a choice they tell me
i can change it anytime i like
but its stained face waits for me when i shut the light
its reproach waits for me in the uncertainty of her *******

in the halflight of morning
she lay sleeping and perception crawls slowly over her
leaving no part of her uncaressed by its warm hand cold eye
and in that slow torture of silent revere i begin to see her differently
i see the flaw in the logic chain that lead her to me
from the far distant mountains where we met
i see the flaw in the chain of events that lead my former
lover to follow a spike out the door
i see the lust chain follow the young and willing partner

as she spreads the flower of her dark treasure

i see these chains and wonder how they bind me
to what fate
to what doom
i cannot perceive

this demonic symphony rolls on ever onward
through the years
through the misery and madness
through the joy and laughter
through the miles and minuets
the lens of perception ever distorting ever tainted
by the cool soft touch of a womans hand
its driving me mad

in the briar patch of the mind
the rabbit is fat with his pretense
and the web of his thoughts is brazen and garish
they cascade thru me as he hammers at the dull metal
of his treasures
seeking to make true him rich rabbit dream

his brother the sow begins to shout that the hammering
is an appendage of his nightmares
reaching into the depths of his shallow soul
and twisting the heart-meat of his investment banker infested mind

and both rabbit and sow know they
must redouble their effort
to avoid being the centerpiece of the dinner platter
but in  the briar patch of the mind
its the failing of such grand designs that are the
bread and butter of such feasts
that you and i now wait with such hungers

its a desert of the soul to be certain
no cool thoughts to slake this thirst for the
simple comforts like a woman's hand to hold yours
so we must feed our souls with the scraps
cast aside without care or compassion from the
feast of the tourist trap
but isnt that been our lives far back as we can remember
catching firefly's in the evening rain
and spend the night just watching them with stark wonder
spinning round and round in a jar
looking back we should have just let them roam free
find the own destiny's

i stand here waiting on yet another day of hoping
for that break that will change this
set of dealt cards
for that break of the kid opening the jar
and letting us free to roam the summer free
and let us find a happier destiny

misers gather coins at the gate
collecting for the grand empire gone to dust
each coin taken in is caressed with greasy fingers
before being gently placed in the old tin cup
like a band of beggars and a sack full of lies
they are grateful for their small fortunes

outside a stranger passes slowly by
in the heavy rain
a light in his angry fist
that shines out dully with his agony's of doubt
to illuminate the shadows where his love has fled
he spends his days pounding on the doors of every home
seeking the room where he locked away his dreams
leaving no stone unturned he treads softly in the boneyard
seeking the places he may have buried his hope
he will hunt thru the night for a dry fingernail to chew
for a small place to hide and a reason to  bear the unbearable
and wait for the rain to end

the fallen leaves gathered like a tide at his feet
like a spreading death shroud for the days we called our own
the air tasted like blood and wine
the ***** wind gripped our eyes long into the night
carries on it the tears we wept falling from grace
the ones with hope laid it down and took up the faces of fear
we are the ones who gather up such hope
re-sell it in the border towns and dark soulless motels

fools celebrated in the shadows of the hearts crying out
but they fashion tools to carve new lives out of the old
a veritable army of a hundred lackluster minds
as one they commence to make the mountain into a mole hill
when they are done it will be no bigger to anyone except them
so proud of their wares as seen on tv
they buy stock in the ideal that less is more
and its more or less the end of all things
misers gather coins at the gate of this obscene theater
laughing at the ease of it all
its more or less the story of it all
so ends the poem to end all poems

a rain shower fades away in memory
and the air is thick in aftermath
drenched with memory
as we lay beneath the overhang
her lace dress crisp against my cheek
i turn to say something but am
caught up by her distant looking silent revere
the notion of her hand moving along my arm
and her fragile spinning thoughts speaking in her expression
soft skin glows in the evening light
like moonlight was created in her
and the world uses a cheap imitation moon instead of her
she feels me staring and tickles
i laugh and tickle back
we fill our small space with unconquerable giggles
with strong strong loves like sweet wine
we just keep drinking each other in
it always fulfills but its never enough
its like a rose that never fades
like a summer rain shower
soft and slow
wet and warm
intimate to the soul
like a thousand gentle kisses
soaking to the heart and soul
leaves you dancing slow barefoot spins
and heartbeat long pauses in the arch between
ecstasy of body and soul
she is a song to me
and its her love that sings to me
with each nuance of her presence
the day is fading
and soon we will have to pick our selfs up
and drift home
i don't want to get up
don't want to be out of her arms
want this moment to go on and on
want to stay here in
the sand 'neath the overhang forever
laughing holding hands we push back the years
and wonder how we ever
got on without this right here
her hand in mine
if heaven could be described
it would be the quiet dance
two lovers do
in each others arms
without a word
without anything but each other

darkness at the very edge
its bold
and far from silent
it has a vast sound at the verge of hearing
soft and insistent
clinging to you like a frightened child
you chase the source of light
seeking comfort in its warm familiarity
through the supermarket
where housewives steal trinkets of food
where men loose spare change
through the well traveled rail station
where men in long coats await the rain
where women of dire straights await rescue

clean the razors determinations
and know that the fine line reached
is the one between her mocking you
and the reality of your cold naked bleeding in the rain
no sweeping music can change the mistakes
no well placed words can undo the changes
and everyone may pretend not to see
but they all know
and they all lied

she awakens before dawn
standing at the kitchen table
holding a paper doll
inside she screams and screams
inside the tears are an ocean of death
but to the mute world
her stone gaze fixed out the window
that in her mind is forever as shattered as her
to a world that to her is forever winterbound as her cold heart
she walks into the depths of her home
neatly pressed in her grey dress
line perfect down to makeup
but there is a steady whisper of terror leaking out of her lips

darkness has many faces
hides in plain sight
in full on sunlight
has too many names to be recalled
its lusted for and held up in praise
but it is no hero to me

she is just one average face
just one average set of fingers
looking for a trigger
looking for a thing to bury herself and blade in
and regardless of what they say
she is my only hope
i cannot be the one to bear this burden anymore
i cannot carry this awful memory any further
i want to be rid of her and her kind once and for all

she stands in her silent dark bedroom
razor in her cold fingers
thin smile on her thin lips
waiting
shes waiting
but im never coming back
i will never open that door
never free her of this hell she created
if it was anybody else i might feel
anyone else it might matter
let her rot

it was just past three am
and the engine was running rough
and there was miles and years to go
streetlights goin by so fast they seem to flicker
like an old time picture show
the radio playing loud
some oldies station with an echo
like time was a tunnel of stars and streetlights
that endless perfect night with your girl next to you
shes wearing shorts and a wifebeater
flip-flops and all thouse bracelets
she tinkled when we would bounce in the back seat
she just laughs and says **** tootin'
my soul is three inches from flying pavement
and iv never felt so alive
the whole world comes down to that
floating flying dreamin running laughin freedom
on the wings of the engines secret fires
the road itself takes on a other worldly glow
in thouse hypnotic headlights
there in the tunnel of stars and headlights
a buick and a girl
iv never been so alive

a lament locked on her lips
held in place by lipstick
its powerful sorrows leak down
her chin in a thin red rivulet
to fall to the pure white satin sheet
pooling there like a lake of fire
smouldering there like a woman's
scorned heart
the song of her eyes
has become warped and
distorted and distant
like the sound of a small child crying
in some obscure corner of your house
but you cannot place the sound
it moves with a religious dignity
that defys logic
it escapes your grasp for you were never intended to
to see her vulnerability

his closed fist mouth
is drawn taught
with all the things he withholds
with all the children of his long nights
spent pacing and thinking in the small cell
of his cinderblock mind
these children are but shadows of  thought
but he feeds them like starving dogs
rabid to be released into steaming hot sun
his mask of a ****** expression
haunts his brittle dream
he keeps coming to a mirror
to behold that he is unchanged
he is the man the boy wanted to be
he is what his mother always dreamed he'd be

her nurturing touch is cracked
its egg shell surface bleeds
its sounds are foreign
and i surrender to its relentless devotions
bend to the precise course they dictate
absolution
prostrate to the purchased dream
follower of the prepaid horror

a lament locked on her lips
held in place by lipstick
its powerful sorrows leak down
her chin in a thin red rivulet
to fall to the pure white satin sheet
pooling there like a lake of fire
smouldering there like a woman's
scorned heart
and within that punishment box
i bleed for the face i am not
i suffer the eggshell dream
for a tenderness that i did not harm

looking good in my leisure suit
like i should be sipping martini's in some classy bar
like i should be flyin first class
looking like i got the cash to get unstuck
but a miami sun gonna melt my snowbunny **** for sure
down here with some human fleas
and desperado's with sweaty smiles
could use a hand
hell i could use a truckload of hands
if ya got one to spare

by the time the bill came due
i was sitting on the beach barefoot and broke
no idea how i got there
last thing i remember was some sweet honey
and her warm hands on my wallet
burning the candle at all three ends now
running low on escape plans
could pay you in sand
got a bucket full
this is one sad tale
never thought would happen to a stlyin' prince like me
never saw this comin when i laid down with the lions

never know where your day gonna take ya
sold my guitar
never could play the **** thing anyway
keep slipping outa tune like the rest of my life
sold my fine china set
my pretty bride hopped a greyhound
headed back to the frozen wastelands
thats ok...the cold suits her ice cube heart
sold my chess set
cause i got played like a pawn enough for one day

look at me now
standing here in the tattered remains
and it shouldn't be a surprise i feel liberated
feel like dancing and raising hell
aint got me weighing me down
who the hell wears leisure suits anyway

sometimes you gotta fall all the way down the rabbit hole
to find the only thing your hiding from
is yourself
here...have a bucket of sand and a pair of flip flops...
you'll get used to getting slowly fried in the tropical sun
and mosquito's the size of a bus
good for the soul is what she tells me
good for the soul