Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Monday, May 31, 2010

The Match

in a tunnel of worn out light
just a glimpse of
pump and jab
pheshew! pheshew!

then the shadows part,
obeisance to the light
a ghost
mystery shrouded
in gray ducking hood
- a golden robe
shouting dominance
in vibrant silence

shuffle and dance
on a false floor
in a four corner ring

just another rematch
to my own defeat

I've seen it Harlem attitude
Northern mountain latitude
the mocking waves
of piss tangle sea
and the rush of regret
that wont let me be

I've known it
in the wasted tears
of my last breath
in whispered hope

heard it
in the rage of
my own impatience
to right
my forever wrong

suffered it
in the blow
of another's pompous storm
tearing the roof
from my hide

always forlorn
in hooded shadow
greying the worn out light
milking my fear
to boil its blood
for cause
which and whose?

mene mene tekel peres

yes, upon the wall
tag my soul

i'd like to find it
on the corner
smoking a last cigarette
then could I barter!
then might we reason
tired eye to tired eye

but wisdom banded in thunder
and judgement written with lightning
is a fool's fight,
for only one possesses it
and that
as if nothing

but still I stand
foot upon step
finger upon reason
tired eye
to a blistered sky
and hear only
in banded thunder

mene mene tekel peres

and know it is so,
just a little too late


Thursday, May 20, 2010

The Whippoorwill and The Window

There's a room, I think, where she exists; where she is she alone in bare truth. Where a bath is drawn and no curtains block the moon. Where she looks to the streetlight, the moon mottled leaves; where she remembers him, and is silent in summer still. He wonders of the room and of its power. Of the towel and of her lean.
If only he had wings to fly and a right to do so. But he has neither.

I flew beside the whippoorwill
because she ruled the night
she took me to the edge of sin
that skirts the edge of light

the way was lit
by smokeless adder
while slipping curtains
coloured true,
I sought to find a bed of green
but only found the failed blue

her call became
my perfect sight
my weakness shown
within her plume,
she landed me upon the sill,
I felt the steam of water rise
from deep within the lighted room

she looked to dark
and forest green
and I to yellow's secret shown
each of us being drawn away
to the things we once had known

her shadowed green
that played the roof
and tickled the frozen pane
masked my impropriety
and hid my tears of shame

at last, the yellow light went dim
the forest green went still
she called to me
and I followed her
from the lifeless

but now, I find
twas only a dream
a thought but never true
I walked beneath the nighted green,
stood beneath the pale light,
she called
as if she knew