[..I said to Barbara, I said]
word for word I’m writing my book,
making my costumes and playing me
the best I can
I think I am rather good
remembering all those lines that could
have once made a difference
when sunsets felt real,
beyond their damaged magnetic fields
I sang, I danced, I concurred
and when my sword bent from its knees
and I couldn't cry any more
I walked on burning coal through the icy rain
to embrace the forgotten
I keep on writing my book
chapter by chapter
I pierce my ears, die my hair, conjure the dark forces
and anchored by fear I deliver
touching, exhilarating, borderline shocking
live entertainment
half brave, half pushed
sometimes merely there
I remember the lights,
blinding they are, hallowing they are
I keep on wearing my costumes
children rush to me like lambs to their mother-sheep
and their smiles, joy and clapping
are worth a whole sun and one bright half of a Moon
we lick ice-cream together,
get colds together
make sticker-charts together and
sit on the naughty step together
and after dark - and only after dark – we pray to not have to pray again
keep reading
turn the page to the scene
with the guy who locked the rare wounded dove in a cage
and the woman who loved too much, laughed too much, wore too much lipstick
and her depressed chiwawa
and keep playing me
Sunday to Sunday
the best you can
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
[..I said to Barbara, I said]
word for word I’m writing my book,
making my costumes and playing me
the best I can
I think I am rather good
remembering all those lines that could
have once made a difference
when sunsets felt real,
beyond their damaged magnetic fields
I sang, I danced, I concurred
and when my sword bent from its knees
and I couldn't cry any more
I walked on burning coal through the icy rain
to embrace the forgotten
I keep on writing my book
chapter by chapter
I pierce my ears, die my hair, conjure the dark forces
and anchored by fear I deliver
touching, exhilarating, borderline shocking
live entertainment
half brave, half pushed
sometimes merely there
I remember the lights,
blinding they are, hallowing they are
I keep on wearing my costumes
children rush to me like lambs to their mother-sheep
and their smiles, joy and clapping
are worth a whole sun and one bright half of a Moon
we lick ice-cream together,
get colds together
make sticker-charts together and
sit on the naughty step together
and after dark - and only after dark – we pray to not have to pray again
keep reading
turn the page to the scene
with the guy who locked the rare wounded dove in a cage
and the woman who loved too much, laughed too much, wore too much lipstick
and her depressed chiwawa
and keep playing me
Sunday to Sunday
the best you can
...every man, woman and poet for him/herself.
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