#buckley
June, lost in your brown eyes June
the way you make me shiver,
when I hear you.
My modern-day Dylan,
born with a fire sign making red as your color,
a fiery spirit with a striking masculinity,
Ambiguity,
the duality is astounding in you, June
enthralling me with your coolness and childlike silliness
when you're you June
But who am I to assume when you're being the real you?
As soon as the curtains and the lights are off,
you're concealed from the whole world to see,
back home you bring with you your loneliness and existential crisis,
so you write them in paper in a form of a song or poem,
or you just pour yourself a drink until they all go away
La douleur exquise,
you who belonged to everyone
and you who belonged to no one,
you will never know my name,
you who never cared for a name.
You June, yes you and your cold brown eyes
antithetical to the tenderness of your heart
The way you capture the first two of my five senses,
the way you bedazzle the assemblage with your electric presence
June, you have no idea how grandiose my dream was for you,
in seven continents you land with your own private jet
countless nights in every city where you stand to their largest stages
and you give your all
and they watch you, they sing along
and then they cry and shout with joy
Maybe I am being too ambitious, June
but you were bigger than Dylan
in my dream,
the millions of records you sold,
to the best-selling books you wrote
'cause you were just that gold,
and brilliant
in my dream
It's not that I deserve you but they don't deserve you like your brothers do
I followed you reach your aspirations,
gone were the days of your wild youth,
when you were only misunderstood
for being conceited and carefree
Now I see you,
almost in your anonymity
and I'm afraid to say that it seems your passions have burnt-out
June,
my eyes could not even gaze at yours without feeling like crying June
even when you smile with your teeth showing,
no matter how loud you laugh.
I have already solved the mystery behind those cold brown eyes June,
that we all share the same pain of losing someone significant
and this endless wondering about the meaning of our lives
June,
I may have stopped dreaming for myself
that I could be someone like you,
because my world is too small and distant compared to your universe
June,
in my dream there were seven of you shining the brightest
and I was not sad nor anxious even the slightest.
I was happy, June
And in my dream you took me to your apartment after the show, just for you to brag me your vinyl collection.
I didn't notice how it all happen but we were writing a song together,
could have been the greatest song of all time we're about to perform tomorrow
until I woke up and you were not there,
and all I have are tears in my eyes,
June
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 3:07 PM UTC
Winter, winter mornings
What you going to promise, promise me
Winter, winter morning
You might have been the diamond
Wasted like a diamond,
Wasted love
Untasted love
I am walking all your blocks
Onward to hopeless
***** passing ***** by
An asbestos blanket to wrap the homeless
A man who knows his worth
So falsely
The cold is painful
There's a ditch with my name in it
As the sun shines so brightly
Please don't see me, you see so kindly
Your kindness kind of gets to me
I still have some things left to lose
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 1:28 AM UTC
The rain makes me ache with memories
Black coffee, your books, and my singing
You were something borrowed
I was something blue
Honestly, the rain reminds me of you
In spring I drank mostly wine
Listened to Buckley all the time
Constantly pestered you with the knowledge I held
Of a poet that was six feet under and very pale
But you'd listen
And in a sweeping moment I knew
There may never be a love like you
Your art spoke of this type of entanglement
And it seemed by the pictures it strangles quick
Yet, the world felt softer now I think it through
Because I'd rather go back than sit here and brew
This coffee taste black, cold, and shrew
This isn't what reminds me of you
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
Here is the inimitable Jeff Buckley's poem, "My New Year's Eve Prayer," which he performed live at Sin-é in Manhattan, NYC, in 1996.
"You, my love, are allowed to forget
about the Christmas you just spent stressed out in your parents' house.
You, my love, are allowed to shed the weight
of all the years before,
like bad disco clothes.
Save them for a night of dancing ****** with your lover.
You, my love, are allowed to let yourself drown
every night in bottomless wild and naked symbolic dreams.
You, my love, in sleep can unlock your youth
and your most terrifying magic;
and dreaming is for the courageous.
You, my love, are allowed to grab my guitar
and sing me idiot love songs
if you've lost your ability to speak.
Keep it down to two minutes.
You, my love, are allowed to rot and to die
and to live again,
more alive and incandescent than before.
You, my love, are allowed to beat the **** out of your television,
choke it's thoughts and corrupt its mind.
**** **** **** **** the ************
before the song of zombiefied pain
and panic and malaise
and it's narrow right-winged vision
and it's cheap commercial gang ****
becomes the white noise of the world.
Turn about is fair play.
You, my love, are allowed to forgive and love your television.
You, my love, are allowed to speak in kisses
to those around you
and those up in heaven.
You, my love, are allowed to show your babies
how to dance full bodied,
starry eyed, audacious, supernatural and glorified.
You, my love, are allowed to **** in every single endeavor.
You, my love, are allowed to be soaked like a lovers' blanket
in the New York summertime
with the wonder of your own special gift.
You, my love, are allowed to receive praise.
You, my love, are allowed to have time.
You, my love, are allowed to understand.
You, my love, are allowed to love.
Woman, disobey,
when little men believe;
You, my love, are Rebellion."
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
m i s e r y... that seems to be all my life can be. Is there an e s c a p e for me? Maybe somewhere out at s e a. Away I r u n & f l e e out into the misty waters of finally... f r e e.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC