How I hope to be remembered
How I cope to be remembered
are never the same

There's no shame, in removing your shoes
We just don't want the plague
well We'll just wait till it's gone away

So I'm eating out of your hand
Magnum grapes, and
The last look from planes
And other things shared leaving me in my own bubbly daze

The last invitation
To the hero to show
and when he doesn't
we'll all just go

I sat back in the the saturated black
The magnitude of conversation with the deaf
The thick thicket soon to be illuminated
By a wicker man
Something sinister
But something at least, is better than nothing besides the breeze

To then fill with leaves the flames would raise
As children to set loose and torment in little cages
giving glances desperation and dipterous demands

5 inches longer than my hips
It drags beneath the floor
Stooped picking ends Up

If it was storage I lost
Then that is what I sorted
To be waiting for my return
And everyplace is an arrival

Some wheels still moved
On smooth grooves and grins
In varnished pavements
Whilst Waving in passing

Since these are the oil lengths
That will separate this way from that
And so will continue

As a thousands hues above the ground

Sleeping through steam and mist
Atop the Atlantic
Or beneath with
black transparencies during the existential technicolor discos

Of arranged meetings of faux upholstery
some that moved with the tunes too
Though most that stayed glued

With that oil that never seemed to dry
Yet managed to keep everyone there in place with no reasons why
And though closer to tar this was not one that flew in through our Olympic airways nor trains or cars

Oh cars
With melted chocolate on the plastic grips that stayed for years
On stretches of land for legs of chairs to soon expand

Some moments are so carefully placed in a room as furniture
Never to move
With or without the planned dance

And through the options here in the sky
Here I will decide
With open window entertainment
which destination and journey
I will ride

stagnate-
up the creek par se
every which way
I'd use alliteration
for this rash
but its not homogenous
instead in separate stashes-
painfully buoyant idle and robust;
ducks

Brain fried
like a thousand flies,
above the floating trash,
better identified-
the outskirts
of a vague form
than the innocuous worm
found in straw surrounded ponds
in wiggling room -more than enough;
stuck

come in short
into the common fort
to flaunt, gauge, and gauze
columned concerns-
the core and the cause
for which there was none

yet allowed slow a ripple
to echo, reverse and to dribble
to re-emerge the subtlety
of a moving hill

You were just a Barmaid
but I was just a Nothing
well worse anyway
but there are a few things that you taught me

besides the feeling of your stubby thumbs upon my face
how they would stick
and how I'd want them to stay
or your little lips
when I couldn't resist
and Id just give in

or the time you finally let me massage your back
I wanted to think it mattered
it certainly did to me
but I am such an *******
since I couldn't just say it
how Id love to massage your back for the rest of my days

and when sometimes things seemed to be so perfect
somehow I just couldn't accept it
Instead I get scared I say the exact thing
to push you away

I tried telling you
how I had this problem
how I was insecure but it wasn't so simple
and I was too caught up in my thoughts

but you helped me get out of them

and this is where you helped me mature
to grow and learn
and then amongst other things that you taught
there were some that you make clear
for me to observe
but then others that we both take a part of
e.g. falling in love

I wondered if I gave you any lessons
if I helped you learn
I wish I did
something that would make you want to come back

thinking of how you'd walk cross armed
with your bag
trapped in the corner of your shoulder
which had, something written on it
something like marrakech
something like that
and there was some funny font
and an elephant
or so I remembered

and so I longed

things were different for us
from your family that showed you love
and my parents who were far from it
Its why I ended up as a poet
musician, and an artist

all these ways I need to express
how I feel since I am too impressed
with everything too often
and I find it hard to say what I mean
But thats not to say you might of found it easy
hopefully this isn't just me fooling myself
Thinking you might have feelings.


I have my normal response
to be rash and tell
you all about how I feel
But I realize now
I need to be rational
as you have to know
this time its real

I get scared of waiting
thinking you already
know what will be.
but you once told me anything is possible
and so you give me will
to wait patiently to not be so emotional
because I am very emotional

but I wait
anxiously
for how you feel
as I know that in the wake of this
you will have to give me the will

Are you stupid
do you get it?
there are rhymes here
and there and everywhere
anywhere- meanings besides what you read

christ give me meningitis
or some sickness to display
the esoteric **** that I say
as a ailment to amend
or **** me
- but nonetheless to do me away-

I don't mean to pry
but why do you read?
to learn to become someone else?
we'll make the best of it-
I transgress the evident tip;

please refrain from adapting to the ego of a million towers
I see you wander
- all of you
with your collars-
while I sit on my *** and bite my callouses
and listen to mid-popular, music
and I feel taller
as I submit, again and again and again
since theres no limit, to my drivel
and the **** ill say and do
till you reject it
and even then I continue
when you sit there and read - as I do with myself in revision-
you- as I- come to a wall - or worse a hole
something to take away neither the pain nor the gain - but the attention
or compassion from my life and yours too
I struggle to have these metaphors and hidden meanings rammed down my throat;

to take it in - perhaps make sense- perhaps be happy again

to accept , move to whats next, not regret, gain a lesson, begin to clap and to win

and establish new intentions

But I struggle to have these metaphors and meanings hidden rammed down my throat;

- so instead I pollute, to avoid the swallow
and then what besides the hopeless chase, of my self that I lose
that you and I become- nothing- reduced- to simply follow