Once I heard somebody say

"Many moons ago"
Referring to the past

It never made much sense to me
There was only one moon I could see

Now you're in the fading phase
Becoming one of many moons I knew

I was seven
Sitting in a sandbox
Playing with words

And a kid would scream
"Tag, you're it"
And I would bleed
Because I was

I was drunk
Delivering my daily diatribe
About symbolism, and feeling, and energy, and

Love

And the cop would pull me over
Because I was driving in two lanes
Talking to a ghost
Who couldn't understand

I told him
"I've been waiting for you,
And I didn't even know it"

Mr authority who I deplore
Was inspired by the poet
He let me go
Just like I did before


And later I thought
How senseless it really was
To be sensible

This place is toxic,
it carries a weight
that will fall in the corner
with hearts listed fragile
and feelings agape
Swallowing reason
in populist pander
Singing the praises
which bark at the moon
Touching the skin
of a lonely world traveler
Jogging the distance
in words repeated

Beware of the smiles,
the frowns and the teardrops
gathered from distant borders
Taking the spirit
along on the breezes
Casting it forth
in a starless night
with biting fireflies,
electric stingers
glowing for even
the farthest of eyes
hoping only for happiness

Take caution when
spilling emotions,
painting vistas
in cranberry sighs
for blooming gardens
don’t always offer fragrance
in its most appealing form
Thorny revisions hurt,
trickling blood on the stone
A craggy thought
which will never
be a turnip

Tread lightly where matters
of love matter
For like the magical tablecloth,
not only the silverware
and fine china
will be left sitting alone,
but so will you,
empty, unfulfilled
watching the white cotton
disappear,
yanked from your existence

This place is toxic
poetic poison drips, drips, drips
Intravenous contagions
transferred from one to the other
Building fires and fever,
blazing flesh from bone,
killing inspiration
till it is nothing more than
a pile of ash
waiting to be sifted through

Everything is cold and everyone is desperate
I am not crying, I am being honest
It's been a long time here and I'm tired
How do the nameless go about making a name for themselves
If the only joy to be found is buried six feet into the ground

We built a home that was so easily turned
We walked through the fire together but I was the only one burned
With eyes weak and no hope to be found
I turned on myself to pick out the flaws
There is no place in the world for people like me

I looked through the window
And I could just barely see
A woman, laced with happiness and a dress down to her knees
With an umbrella, a purse, and a pair of glasses to see

Everything is bright and everyone is shining
It's been a while, I am not crying
We have made a name for ourselves, her and me
It's Mr. and Mrs. Lovely, we have grown a tree
On Sunday's and Monday's, I count every leaf
One smile, two smiles, three smiles, indeed

What a lovely change of events
One would agree
It isn't very long until you are able to see
That with every wrong, comes a right
I sure hope you believe
That not a flicker in sight
is dull enough to cease

Even though we are lonely, even though we are weak
We will stand up strong
and be filled up with peace