Old gentle vague dark sea
stars uncoffined above
my drummer grave
blind of age,
meet Mr. Numb Feelgood
he is dying - chasing smoke,  
following a blind parade
wanderin’ anywhere forked like Yes
at every dusty, homely, strange-eyed landmark
until driven deep down dead

Dear old diamonds,
my sleepy southern song spell fades ,
my past was a young clown
dancing, swingin' my magic heels
raging and cursing death’s grip on time

Now, I feel that morning’s fierce burn
vanishing into a tambourine memory
and I’m caught madly dreaming
against the ragged anywhere
to return green tomorrow

I FLOat into NOthing
drifting from place to place
LOSt

You gotta know what for, babe, you got nothin' to lose,
Just like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world.
You gotta break on through
To the other side of your sad attitude,
But you can't shake off
Them muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Well, Hell! She's beatin' on a drum
And she's gettin pretty loose.
Seems like ev'rybody else in the whole **** world
Is comin' down on her
And standin' on some plattitude.
She's just tryin' to groove
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez.

Up and down the water,
You watch the riverboats cruise,
As you drink against a tree beneath a sky of blue.
Sleep wants to take you,
But Honey, you refuse.
You gotta pay your dues
To the muddy Mississippi Blues.

Life along the delta can be simple and fine,
When the stills fill the jugs and the full moon shines.
You're gonna make it through
When you find a little gratitude.
So give your praise
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez

"Well, Hell! Take me away,
Muddy Mississippi.
I know I can count on you.
To stain my soul
Like muddy Mississippi goo.
I owe it all
To the muddy Mississippi Bluez!"

I miss the street theater at the moonwalk,
The coffee and beignets,
The late-night walks down Bourbon Street,
The scorching summer days,
And I miss you.
I miss the one that I once held
Beneath the city lights.
I'm going to find my way back.
I'm setting out tonight.
I miss New Orleans.

I miss the slow ferry rides
Across the Mississippi river deep.
We always stood on the very top,
So we would be sure to see
The skyline
Of the Vous Carre.
Don't you know,
Somehow, one day, I will return.
I'll sleep out under a bar's alcove
While night-time tourists crash and burn like stars.
I miss New Orleans.

I never thought I'd ever see the day
That I could feel so swept-away.
I'm going home, and there I'll stay.

Only now have I come to realize
Marie Leaveu must have my soul
Locked inside a voodoo grip
And She just won't let go.
I'm captivated.
I miss the one that I once held
Beneath the city lights.
I'm going to find my way back.
I'm setting out tonight.
I miss New Orleans.

I:

Dear Diary,

It was not hard to understand,
The feelings that he stirred in me.
I don't really think I was ready,
But he had to have his way with me.

As he pulled back the coverlet
His eyes gleemed in the candlelight.
I felt his callused hands upon my newness
And trusted him with my life.

His words were all I could have wanted
As our fingers interlocked, then splayed.
Nobody told me how much love hurts,
But I loved him, anyway.

He gently kissed me on my forehead,
And told me not to cry.
He used his beautiful lips
To kiss tears from my eyes.

I knew I had forever changed
As I watched him button up his coat.
Then he gently reminded,
I should not tell a living soul...

II:

Dear Diary,

How could I have known that I would love him,
But be left to deal with this alone.
I used an alias on the forms,
So nobody else will ever have to know.

I wondered how I'd feel when it was over,
When I've heard the doctor say that he was through.
I wonder how long I'll miss my baby.
Ending it was all that I could do.

As I walked alone along the Boulevard,
I realize that I must hurry home.
I told them I would be on time for dinner.
(God, please don't let them ask where I did stroam)

The heart can take a body many places
That you never dreamed your soul would go,
Can make you do things you never thought you would.
Most of all, the heart can lay you low.

I wonder if our paths should cross again,
Will I tell him of the ended pregnancy.
Perhaps if he had not gone away
We would have been a wholesome family...

Show me what you can’t tell
From all your eavesdropping nights
The languid-age’s usher is itself
An innocent pusher of wares and waters
Like a dog-eared page, always there but
In the foggy memory of past chapters,
A silent stranger to the binding
Actors in world of 10,000 faces each of sound
And hailing of an old friend, and exits stage left:
I give you Seasons change:
Bitter chills, coming and leaving less, made her sandals
Turn into sneakers, then to boots, all one size larger than before.
I give you Divorce:
They laid prostrate in bed staring earnestly
At an open window on wither side of the room.
I give you Poverty:
The boy ran through the convenience store aisle like
It was the garden of Eden and his mother’s $6.26 in change
Made him hear the voice of God.
I give you I am drunk:
Hey, babe. What are you up to? It’s been like three days since…well
I think I miss you and you are so ****.
I give you I am envied:
All the glitter of pins came through the little slits of her eyes
And that mouth could press its own diamonds.

You’re swimming, okay,
And the Bible suddenly opens up.
Not many people are faced with this,
Except you: you’re an exception.

How do you take it?

Barely, would the sublime horror of communion pass on your lips
Once the ocean take its Leviathan form, and it opens its mouth to speak.
Its oratory becomes very clear in the maelstroms of countless gallons
Rushing blue cannibalizes itself before you; you have no time to think of death
When the salt’s burning your eyes and you’ve finally figured
How useful a gyroscope can be.

Too soon, three darknesses will emerge from the desolate homily
Taught not to discriminate in thought or action: the backs of your eyes
Straining against the buoyancy, the restfulness of not seeing a bottom,
And the path Jonah’s bones took, the disbeliever.

Mostly, you’ll want to congratulate yourself like a legend,
You wonderful *******, when you come in crashing on the waves.

The crispy perfection risen
From the quick burn of gold as though
The phoenices of old came back to greet death
With the pale, clear smoke
Or with diaphanous ashes gilding still
The fieriest of feathers and their souls.
Oh how they bleed before the beheading,
But such end, for me, is
Ever favorable, and never ill.
I want an equal passion to receive me,
Where I would be eaten whole, taken
Full and proud, and stripped and naked,
Delicately touched, willingly devoured, consumed
By the mouth of my kisses, of my doing,
And thoroughly tasted
By her need-driven tongue.
I'd give my all. All.
I want that.
And that, I tell you,
Is a **** death.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

Sometimes...
I cannot hear your thoughts
Your mind to me
Is like smooth jagged glass
Beneath a pool of liquid winter
A lake of crystallized silence.
It hurts.

Sometimes...
I cannot feel your emotions
Your face is like an empty mask
A hollow shell
Your eyes are depthless glass
Living ice.
I can feel your heartbeat
I can hear you breathe
Tears flow down my cheeks,
Freezing in your frigid warmth.
They sound like antipathy.

Sometimes...
We kiss
Mental screams against silence
Passion against nothingness
Motion against stillness
You don't lie
You don't speak
You do nothing at all.
There're no roses amongst the thorns.

Sometimes...
I hear you speak
Flowers blooming in winter
Blood burning through snow
Your voice is a sirenic thing
Filling me
Maddening me
Tearing my heart apart.
A captivating inferno.
A glacial wind.
A numbing kiss.
Your voice is poison.
I crave its touch.

Sometimes...
I wonder if you're a corpse
I wonder if you're hollow
I wonder if you forget to feel.
Your smile
Is an existential thing.
Your laugh
Is a detached melody.
Your stare
Is an empty dream.
Arctic indifference.
Words fading into the wind.

Sometimes...
I can only see you
An aloof statue
A pitiless observer.
Tears flow down my cheeks,
Freezing in your frigid warmth.
I no longer understand you
Perhaps,
I never did.
Flowers blooming in winter
Blood burning through snow
My devotion
To a narcissistic fascination
Your voice is a sirenic thing
There're no roses amongst the thorns.
It hurts.
I wish to **** you.
You don't lie
You don't speak
You do nothing at all.

Your face remains an empty mask
Mental screams against silence
Arctic indifference
Decayed insanity
Inert image upon darkened glass.
What do I do with all these feelings?
You will not die.


It hurts.

Teardrops fall from the heavens,
Tasting of ashes
From the world below...