out of blue and crimson sunset
give me the breaks and she
will grind them.
He and they walk
ask give take
why the fuck not why the fuck so
Let go, let go, breathe and remember to remember to remember to
take toes dipped
in sunlight driven by lust of gold
she stumbles, I catch.
What to write when the time is right
What to write when it is shinning
What to type when I am on and tight
What to say when it is okay
What to do when your fine with you
You’ve lost your anger token
I’ll ask you this and you may ask too
What about happy
is so hard to use?
Melody given to me…I breathe
I take it in in small sips of sound…sip…sip….feel and feel again
taken to another time with the turn
of the phrase and the moan
of the violin stringed monster
of love and honor.
Tonight I take in my own mind and call it
like I listen to the song I listen
to the melody of me
turn on tune.
The crick cracked
sidewalk leading to the giant
neon god of commercial
It glares in heat
to streets of forbidden greatness
let out of the brain in garbled sounds of CHRISTmas
now led by the sled of the FAT man
Slurps of eggnog
left on the corners of lips
gathering to make
milk webs as they talk of schemes and dreams of weight loss
to get normal so get this shit right
fit into the ever changing puzzle made for all…hold
the tongue of the wrong one, with a bottle dressed in paper and a hand out.
“What you think of me I cannot take,” the bull whispers to the goat. “You find me too big and brutish with wisdom and I find you grumpy and brittle with anger.”
“You disgust me!” the goat yells back, pieces of can escaping from his mouth. “Why won’t you just love me?”
“Why won’t you just love me?”
“Why won’t you just love me?”
“We’re repeating ourselves.” The bull huffs.
The bull walks.
The bull writes, paints, feels, cries, tries and fails.
“I do love you.”
I saw your fire today
It was smaller than you remembered.
It held only the dream of the false and nothing else was there to keep it burning.
You are free.
Their embers blow in the cliche of the wind and you are the cliche of free.
I see you.
Her legs were tan with heels that stretched Her
to the tip
of your imagination.
She made you crave
not just Her legs wrapped around your head but what was in
that marvelous head that’s lead by that deep
She’d never seen the sidewalk look so wet and grey before.
She knows this is not possible but what is it about pain that makes everything stick out.Why do the tears hurt so heavy in her stomach. Will it end? It does. She’s seen movies. It does…maybe she doesn’t want it to. She hasn’t felt at all for years. Robotic love now dismantled. But even metal has passion and memories. How to rip that apart. But the heat was too angry and the cooling is necessary. The tear will cool. Or so she tries to believe…
Tonight I think of you . Even if you do not think of me. I think of you. I have for a while now. You have disappeared and now the transparency is chameleon like I match it to any who will allow it’s form. You take the drawings with you and I ask for nights of release. I ask to stay up late and drink and cry and mimic my abilities and hope it will make any fucking difference at all. But show up I will. . . again. I show up. We show up. The artist shows up, for the glorious moment that is the process.