040912A
------------
The beginnings are too boring
and the endings are too tedious,
for anything in between to ever last.
You count their sameness
the way a priest routinely counts
the cheap plastic beads on a rosary.
It does not matter what they are made of,
or whether they glow in the dark.
It is all too similar
to a game played with shrunken heads
in any primitive jungle village.
A wireless noose is as definite an end
as a telegraph wire around the neck.
The keystrokes are tiny jungle drums
signaling to other urban savages.
Eyes staring into the glowing embers
that dance across the field of visions.
Looking for any available means
that might lead to some form of escape.
Escape is what it is all about.
Nothing but escape.
------------------------
040912B
------------
Your beauty was too much
for me to struggle to endure.
Anything flawed or broken
is so often easier to handle.
It seems less holy,
for the fact that it has fallen
into one or other form of disrepair.
I look for that,
trying to avoid what seems too perfect.
Feeling safer in the shadows,
It becomes far too difficult
when everything seems right
and where everything seems good.
Too much exposure to the light,
makes me crave something of darkness.
I look for it in all those secret places
where you lost something of your soul.
That mythic double
that you once tried to polish up
as if the tarnish might really come off.
Something wore completely away
in that frantic sort of effort,
in a game that no one else would play.
It was something like a garment
that you washed too many times,
molded and beaten by your own hands,
until it looked like another lump of clay.
--------------------------------------------------
040912C
------------
that you might get at anytime from anyone,
in any place no matter where,
or how you phrase the question..
I look for the end of looking,
Something that I did not chance to find,
anywhere I looked before.
I thought I saw a trace of the end of looking
when I looked into your eyes,
so I looked again
and found I was denied
the end of looking.
I am still looking
for the end of looking.
Not knowing where that might be,
as to what might end my looking,
before I reach the end of me..
------------------------------------
040912D
------------
The rains came down,
lashing at the windows
and hitting on all the little bits of earth,
as if that could wash the world clean
of whatever had sullied it.
Scourge it pure again.
I remember a time
when the world looked like Hollywood
made it all look in the movies.
Everything seeming bigger than life,
and as unapproachable as the silver screen.
You had to take a seat, silently and watch.
It is all those moments of hesitation,
that come from feeling too small
in the face of the immensity of it all,
that one more often comes to regret,
as to everything one learned to worship from afar,
rather than to approach at the altar.
Then when you get up the courage,
it is always at the wrong time, in the wrong way,
and you end up sent to Hell,
in one peculiar way or another,
ending up wrong way round,
as another hanged man in the Tarot.
but you were too much the fool,
always falling in without completely perishing,
you managed to walk the narrow ledge,
the way a reluctant suicide might walk it,
one foot carefully in front of the other.
That deck too was stacked
same as all the others,
and some had absconded with the lovers,
leaving a mess of swords and staves,
among overturned, and empty, cups,
and sometimes all you find are stray jokers.
You wonder how the game is really played,
by any of its winners.
You feel forced to give it up,
afraid that there is nothing in it for you,
beyond a million ways to lose
no matter what you happen to be dealt.
------------------------------------------------
|
|