G-r-r-r-r

That cranky old mongrel hound
cooped up down the alley;
he ain't got no teeth no more
but he still knows how to snarl.
He gets them young pups all worked up,
with one well-placed throaty growl.

G-r-r-r-r

Poor me

I met a man who told me
that he's looking for the way
he might become more free,
less encumbered in his life.

Poor me, poor me, poor me;
He wailed and whined away.

He spoke of many woes
how hard he works each day;
his waking hours filled with
ire, fear and deep resentment.

Poor me, poor me, poor me;
He wailed and whined away.

I then related my good fortune
I had been opened up to joy.
How quick he was to dampen
the satisfaction I'd been feeling.

Poor me, poor me, poor me;
he wailed and whined away.

Did I mention he's the man
who's possessed with the answers;
reciting gospel word for word
from his precious sacred texts.

Poor me, poor me, poor me;
he wailed and whined away.

Like a painting

I stared at her
like she was a painting;
as if I had all day and night
to drink in each and every
sublime curve and contour
of her exquisite grace.

She briefly gazed at me
as if I was a painting
that she didn't have the time for.
For me an eternity of ecstasy.
For her an incidental passing glance.

How much worldly fortune
if I could, would i offer,
for one more fleeting glimpse
of her exquisite grace ?

I wonder if I did possess
a painting half as beautiful as she,
would I settle for this work of art,
to worship and admire
for as long as i should like.

Or would I freely give this up
for one more moment's sight
of her exquisite grace.

Wheel of karma

Your end ?
My end ?
Where the hell's the middle ?
You say this.
I say that.
What the hell's the deal ?
In the end
It looks like karma,
and we're stuck here on the wheel.
You over there.
Me over here.
And where the hell's the middle ?

Right where it has always been;
holding your end and mine together.
If it weren't for the middle
we would fly off altogether;
and our karma would be done
freed from one another.

No need to ask the questions
of what and why and wherefore.
The wheel just keeps on turning.

The crucial matter comes to this;
Are we ready, willing, able
to let go our desperate grip
on karma's timeless wheel ?

This wheel it keeps on turning.
Now you are at the center;
you see and hear your fellows
lament their place upon the wheel.

And the wheel of karma;
it keeps on turning.
My end ?
Your end ?
What the hell's the difference ?

If the wheel is truly timeless,
no beginning and no end;
where am i going anyway ?
How long will it take
to get from where I find myself
to where I think I need to be ?
If all along the truth is this;
where I am is where I ought to be
therefore so for you.

My end ?
Your end ?
What the hell's the difference ?
Here we are together
on this timeless karmic wheel.
It seems the only way for balance
is to meet right in the middle.

Dream song

in a dream....

I was surrounded by many
desperate, troubled people.
There was much drinking,
drugging and violence.
Women were being bought and sold
and held ransom to the dollar.

I was afraid and confused
and wanted to run away
to save my body.
But in my mind and heart,
I wanted to stay
to help in some way.

I found myself called to stillness
These words came through me.

You already are what you seek.
Stand up, unbow yourselves.
Shake off that shame and self-pity.
Look up towards your father sky
to the realm that has always been yours

You already are what you seek.
You don't have to drink that poison.
You don't have to smoke that weed.
You don't have to sell yourself
for that demon, mister money.

You already are what you seek
Your heritage is fully within you,
and needs for you to come home.
There's nothing to build.
There's nothing to buy.
There's nowhere to go;
and there's nothing to do.

You already are what you seek.
Your radiant wings are fully within you
just waiting for you to decide
to fly like the eagle you always have been.

You already are what you seek.
I invite you to consider this message
that who and what you are fully
exists to the fullest within.

You already are what you seek
Stand up and stretch those beautiful wings,
and bring yourself clear to the edge.
Now take to the wing without fear or concern,
and fly like the eagle you always have been
in the realm that has always been yours

Technicolor sky

it was in the early days
when everything was technicolor
there was that explosion that occurred
only inward
then nothing
then something called time
interspersed with more implosions
sudden
mysterious
unexpected
too many implosions
with black and white nothing in between

and then
it is decades later
it seems i have awakened
from a black and white dream

i look up at the technicolor sky
all i want is to be back safe
in my black and white dream.

because that techniclor sky
it's too beautiful and blazing

filled with possibilities
lost possibilities
stolen possibilities
forgotten possibilities
broken possibilities

something about that technicolor sky
wants to tear this wounded heart apart
wants to make me look at it
wants to make me believe that
it can be a possibility

i know i can never go there
this body, mind and heart
just would not survive another
one of those implosions

so i stay here, safe here
in my black and white dream
waiting for the blessed end
when i'm called into that technicolor sky
with it's endless possibilities.

Aum

Aum

In the beginning,
the word.

Before the word,
the sound.

Before the sound,
The vibration.

Before the vibration,
the universal hum.

Aum

No beginning.
No end.
Only ever now.

All that is

Aum

monkey-shines

1998....
while touring india....
exploring rishikesh
a popular hindu pilgrimage site
along the banks of holy mother ganges river
in the sub-tropical himalayan foothills

i had determined it was time to replenish
my supply of apples, oranges and bananas
feeling energetic and adventurous
i took myself across the eighth of a mile walk-bridge
to the "unholy" opposite riverbank
intent on checking out the marketplace
situated along a winding escalating path
lined with various market stalls and street-side services
which began immediately
at the foot of the bridge's other side

just at the base of the incline
stood a massive expansive tropical tree
some twenty-five meters in height
i happened to glance upward
to observe a troupe of monkeys
ten or twelve of them or so
collectively staring with much interest in my direction
from atop the tree branches

i shrugged and turned to continue along
leaving any thought of those curious monkeys
to drift away with the river's current
and the balmy sweet tropical breeze
it happened that the most delectible produce
was available in a quaint friendly stall
at the very top of the pathway
( in full view of those monkeys, by the way )

success....mission accomplished !

feeling quite pleased with my purchase
i began a relaxed descent towards
returning to my lodgings

as if on cue
from some mystical comedy script
in some movie i wasn't aware of being in
and at the perfect dramatic moment
a stunning, young, blond, scandinavian woman
passed me heading the other way along the pathway

naturally and of course,
i stopped and turned to admire her radiant charms

suddenly, out of the corner of my eye i saw him
the big bad boss monkey of that troupe i had seen
with the whole damn family not far behind

i froze in a state of....
i'm still not quite sure what....
but picture this if you will....

i was holding a bag of peanuts upright in my left hand
having been eating these freely with my right hand
and a common plastic market bag
with the day's fruit bonanza
dangling from the pinky finger
of the hand holding the peanuts

the boss monkey charged
with extreme malicious intent
huge impressive fangs bared
the troupe close behind

no doubt he intended to leave with his prize
no matter if he had to take my hand to do so

i agreed with him
he could have the fruit
he was welcome to the fruit
dammit, he and his family deserved the fruit
i was a mere pretender to their territorial rights

what occurred next seemed borne of an intuitive knowing
rather than any conscious decision
a still calm voice arose from within

" if you relax your pinky finger, you can save the peanuts !"

before i knew it, i had done just that
the mighty monkey boss had snared his booty
and with his scruffy band had scurried off satisfied
while i was still a two-fisted guy
with a monkey story to tell....including peanuts

as the gang of marauders hustled away
i became aware of a wonderful thing
there was that bag of tasty peanuts
still upright in my trembling hand

hallelujah !

and i most thoroughly enjoyed them
while muttering and chuckling away
throughout the rest of my uneventful stroll home

in retrospect....

i'm neither the first nor the last
wide-eyed, greenhorn tourist to come bumbling along
to have fallen for the well-oiled, well orchestrated scheme
of that clever troupe of larcenous primates

i'm still not sure how the blond bombshell
played into their racket
but she was in on it
i know it !

2013....vancouver island, canada
while shopping for produce this sunny may morning
i happened to spy a good deal on bananas
pensioner's instinct drew me straightaway to them
feeling quite self-satisfied as i reached for my prize

suddenly....
as if on cue....
perhaps the same mystical movie production
shades of india and those rascally monkeys
a pair of grubby, tobacco-stained, long-fingered hands shot out in front of me
and swooped up the bananas with a furious intent
there was no doubt i occupied the first spot in queue
there was no doubt that those bananas were to be mine
there was no doubt to anyone around or about
except for the woman who captured the banana bonanza
in her mind, they were hers long before i'd entered the scene
and....
in an instant she had paid for them and was gone....
much like those monkeys back in india times

upon reflection....

there wasn't much to be done
in each of these cases
but for time, location and species
what happened was one and the same

it didn't take long to get over my self
and conclude those bananas were hers along
i was a mere pretender to her territorial rights

i cannot begrudge her behavior and choices
just as i cannot begrudge those monkeys the same

p.s.....

come to think of it.....

that scurrilous banana-snatching woman of today
did somewhat resemble an older, more world-worn version
of that blonde babe from rishikesh

hmmm....

I have lied

I lied when i spoke of that night
I did not die as I wanted you to believe
Few men have done what my dad did to me
while engulfed in a fit of murderous rage.

He took me up by my seven year old neck,
proceeded to strangle my life's breath away.
I found myself sinking into a pinpoint of light
This was it, I was dying, no doubt about that.

The last I remember, as I began to black out,
were the eyes of the beast my dad had become.
Just at the moment it seemed life was over
he came to himself, then loosened his grip,
and i slipped like a rag-doll onto the couch.

I've told all the world it was murder he'd done
I just hadn't died through no will of his own.
But the pure holy truth, is that it was he
who saved me from death on that night.

I have so wanted justice, to see that he paid
for the suffering I have endured til this day.
Though I hung at the end of those furious hands,
I cannot ever judge the man who chose to let go.

I've cursed and damned him before all the world.
Now I thank him for each breath I'm able to take.

naked intentions

i arrived on the scene with naked intentions
and that's how i'd like to depart
whoopee !
so-o-o-o ???
how deep and profound !

who didn't show up
in dire need of nappies
and an insatiable lust for the nearest damp tit ?
and it's...."me first or else !"
is the name of the game

who cares to leave with a hiss or a thud
or a series of decreasingly discernable gurgles ?

naked intentions !
naked intentions !

it's what i presented to my first girlfriend's dad
and his to his ad infinitum
naked intentions are just what they are
at least they're not laced with cheap liquor
or wrapped in an old trollope's garter

or perhaps....???

just what do i sincerely
hope to accomplish
through this brazen act
of social intercourse ?

well, if you find me not naked
and unable to function
would you please strip me down
to my most naked intentions
and leave those intentions exposed
along with whatever pretensions
presented around or about
it's all better left unadorned

Ideas and notions

Ideas and notions,
they're all for the dreamers;
worth about as much or less
than your considered opinions.
You can't even wrap the fish in them.

Now tell me the truth
of what tortures your soul,
or muddles your precious good sense.
It's only the truth that shall cut it
and if you think you can cut it,
then let us commence and proceed.

You'll come to discover
that in order to share of
that bold expedition within,
certain words must by nature suffice,
and the rest will but clutter the way.

Now here is the trick if there is one,
using only the true words at hand
and discarding the lies that invite you;
follow them faithfully one truth at a time,
like crumbs of sweet bread on the trail;
and you'll find your way free
of the forest and trees.

You may also have something worth telling
to assist in your fellow's travails.
And at least if you've written
of what's truly transpired,
you'll have something to wrap the fish in.

invisible friend

"who are you talking to, billy ?"
my mum used to ask
"to my invisible friend !"
is what i said and it was true

well, didn't everyone else
have an invisible friend ?
someone that would always
be there through thick or thin

many years have passed
life hasn't gone as i'd hoped
i spend most of my time alone

still i find myself here
quite often it seems these days
talking and chattering away

if my mum were still here
i know what she would ask
"who are you talking to, billy ?"

the reply would be the same
"to my invisible friend !"
who's been with me all along

there aren't so many days left
i'm told by the powers that be
as i gaze at these last words
i hear mum's voice as she asks
"who are you talking to, billy ?"

"to my invisible friend !"
is my answer as always
"to my invisible friend....
who, it turns out, is thee !"

Psalm to sing

God spoke to me.
The message it is clear.
The psalm itself is silent
if the psalmist's voice falls still.

End of days

Look out there,
see that, boy ?
They want yer juice.
They're dry, them circlin' desert buzzards
All's they want's yer juice, boy.
But, don't you worry none,
'cause I ain't gonna let that happen.
Just do exactly what i tell ya
Ya got that, boy ?

We're gonna make it outa here.
Almost nobody makes it out,
you know that, don't ya, boy ?
But we're gonna make it
sure as them dried-up buzzards
are droolin' and lickin' their chops,
as they swoop and oogle ya.
Just hang on, boy
it's gonna be one helluva ride.
Hold onto whatever ya deem holy;
'cause yer gonna need it, boy
Here we go, boy,
Here we go.

Aaahhhhh

There is no sculpture quite so sublime as
the exquisite curve of your neck divine.

Why i cry ?

I am crying now.
I don't know why.
Am i supposed to know
why it is i cry ?
I always feel relief and solace
when the tears run dry.

When i cry
I am afraid I'll die
I haven't yet
But still I dread the moment
when the stony dam of fear
can no longer bear the weight
of these tears I need to cry

Perhaps the reason why I cry
is that the earth beneath my feet
needs to taste the freedom
that these tears will bring.

I am crying still
for no reason that i know.
I pray these mournful tears
might wash away the pain
of whatever has been done
and that which I may do.

Solitaire

You play your cards so well
looks like you've had a lot of practice.
You seem to have a thorough grasp
on all the rules of the game.

As you cover every angle,
and you stymie every bluff,
and you bring the competition
to it's full and rightful end-game;
you're the last man standing
almost each and every time.

Though you leave the table
with a healthy jingle-jangle,
as the big winner of the evening;
you walk so cocky through the door
into what's left of the night;
you realize that here you are again.

Alone !

And the only game you've mastered
is the specialty of the house....solitaire !

Beloved mistress

Beloved mistress,
You who hide behind
those many silken veils.

How shall I arrive
at your sweet bosom ?
Life thus far has shown
how easily I lose my way.

I have come to cherish
the scent of your perfume,
by it's absence
on this lonely night.

Thief in the night

Not so long ago
I was convinced
you were the culprit,
the masked robber
of my sacred trust.

I now see
what was so clear
for all but me.
I am the scoundrel
who hides behind
this righteous stance.

Beware of me.
I am clever
I've fooled myself again,
and again and again.
So much practice.
So much expertise.

That bandit's mask I wore
The midnight cloak I bore
They lie burning
in a sacrificial pyre.
So that this thief,
who knows no other path,
will have no cover
as you encounter me
along your worldly way.

For some of you I'm sure
it is the lash which I deserve.
If there's mercy in your breast
pray for this naked plunderer.
I have been stolen from.
Myself is gone from me.

Ghost-white death-mask

Something whispers,
certainly not nothing.
A subtle impetus
to choose
to stir and rise
to place myself
before another gaping canvas.
the ghost-white of a death-mask.

She is my mistress
I dare not disobey
I know by now
she must have her way.
I go, because to not go
is to become that ghost-white death-mask.

Perhaps the truth is this,
I am that mask.
and this devoted labor offered
at the altar of my mistress
is the alchemy required
so i might return to life and living.

When my mistress beckons
I must go and gaze into
that ghost-white death-mask,
as she gazes into me;
and what transpires
is not for me to know.
Only just to follow
where my mistress bids me go.

No way out but in

Been wasting away in this hovel
for too many days to count;
wishing, hoping, scheming,
sometimes even praying,
for any way to get out.

No answer until this point.
The more I twist my mind,
the closest thing to a way out
is to go down deep inside.

There is no way out of here,
and never shall there be;
is the truth I have to tell.
If I've learned one thing by now
there is no way out but in !

The written word

There's nothing more cruel
than the written word.

At least one's hurtful words,
hurled in furious ire,
settle themselves to dust,
then disappear into the breeze.

But those written words
in your ancient sacred texts
prove the cruelest weapon.

They slice more swift and sure
than one's finest razor might.

As with any worthy weapon
innocent's blood must flow;
with those written words
the killing's out of sight.

It's also out of mind.

sweet home again

dear god, i just want to go home
i wish that those of you who care
could share these sobbing tears
dear god, i just want to go home

are there any of you listening
who know what it is i cry for
for reasons that i will never know
i've always felt unwelcome here

when i bow my head in prayer
and let the silence still my woe
dear god, this only do i know
please, i just want to go home

please, i just want to go home

oh please, dear god

i just want to go home

notes....???

on this auspicious day i choose to leave the shingle in
there'll be no bartering nor banter til the sun goes down
it's a holiday for me and mine that only we shall keep

these words

these words they are just what they're meant to be
for thee, whatever needs they serve to stir thy breast
for me, a trail of crumbs of bread to guide me home again
for thee, portents of mortal threat toward all you hold as holy
for me, a clever way of marketing my wares for daily sustenance
this game of life was well in play long before the rules were written
the vital stuff of legend, conquest, gods and demons has held it's sway
throughout those many days afore the minstrel or the poet took to pen

pass on by

if what you're lookin' for is
someone to tell you how it ain't

pass on by

if what you think you need is
some gentle words of comfort

pass on by

i've been sitting on a heavy load
of just exactly how it is
and it seems to me it's gotten
to be time to let it rip

pass on by

you and i and most folks
can see the situation clear
if you got the inclination
and you got the dime
there's at least a nickel's worth
of just about anything you want
so you can occupy your time

pass on by

if it ain't down and dirty
and you don't really care to listen
it's so simple that it's easy

pass on by

Still running

From the first remembered breath,
I was running to escape.
I didn't need a map.
It didn't matter which direction.
It hurt too much for any fool to stay.

I'm still running fast and hard,
but I'm hardly moving now.
Til this day, the silence deep within
howls as cruel as anything from hell.

I don't know what was worse there;
the abuse and torture that prevailed ?
Or the culture of denial of those folks,
who saw fit to brand me as the villain.

Greetings....notes ???

greetings from within
this long forsaken tomb
I skip and dance along the
edge of the razor's blade
wondering, wishing, hoping,
sometimes even praying
that these glyphs I carve
into these forgotten walls
might touch one of you
thus your senses stirred

life-line

there exists a magick mystic line
suspended taut tween thee and me
it can ne'er be touched nor felt nor seen
most would declare it is not even there
ah but, you and i, we know too well
that this life-line is all there truly is

....more to come....

Not supposed to tell

I'm not supposed to talk about
those many things back then.
I'm not supposed to speak about
so many things I see and hear
around me here and now.

This voice has always wished for,
hoped for, prayed for anyone
to choose to truly stop and listen.

No matter what I should be doing;
no matter what the protocol;
I am going to scream of something,
one of too many things forgotten.

You cannot hear this scream,
but it's as sharp and bitter shrill
as any pain you might have known.

When I take myself back in time,
to that smelly mold-infested closet;
It's not so hard to speak about
the core of those black feelings.
It's just that words can't ever serve
to capture the horror and the terror
of what so cruelly happened there.

Sometimes the screams break free
into a flood of disconnected tears.
When the woeful sobbing ceases,
this grief and sorrow seems relieved;
and another living day seems possible.

   

that was that

i saw him for the first time ever
the one who stole my soul away
he came to me in a dream
i didn't know him
i had never seen him before
yet it was him
he is the one
why there is no doubt i can't explain
he knew exactly what he had done
he didn't seem sorry
or even indifferent
he just didn't remember
i was just another set of digits
on a page
just another page
one of countless pages
that passed before his bespectacled eyes
on any given day
of his any given week
an odd colorless fellow
cold and metallic
nothing special about him
but his brow
not so much wrinkled
more like etched
with deep angry furrows
they seemed older than he could possibly be
why ?....i cried
why have you taken my soul away ?
he briefly blankly stared at me
then turned away
as if to turn another page
and that was that

come as you are

Today i received a very special invitation
to surrender and forget all that I've known.

Come as you are !....read the instructions.
Come as you are !....nothing else was said.

A voice from within immediately agreed;
this is what we've prayed for all this time.

Let's go....let go....that's all there is to that !
Let's go....let go....then we'll be free at last !

Listen

Listen.

There it is

The hum of perfect silence

At the center of all that is;
or isn't.
An impetus greater than
whatever one imagines.

There it is.

No beginning.
No end.
Can there be a middle then ?

The timeless whirring of
timeless clocks,
which have no hands
or numbers,
needs no direction
in which to flow.

The hum of perfect silence

Only ever always now
So loud
you barely hear it.
So quiet
it awakens everything.

Do you hear the hum
of all that is,
or isn't ?
Are you so busy
with the times and dates and schedules
of your worldly machinations
that there seems no time to listen ?

To the hum
of that which is everything,
and nothing.

There it is.

Listen.

gone

is there any way that i can touch you
that doesn't skim right off the surface
of your exquisitely contrived veneer ?
is there a plea which i might utter
that could stir you from within ?
if there is than this is it
i am lost and i am dying
and whatever reason that i'd had
for hanging on til now is gone

i am so close to you
if you were but to still yourself to silence
for even less than what it takes to draw a breath
you would feel this desperate longing
you could hear these woeful sobs
you would know that it is you
i reach out for at this crucial time
but it seems there is no way
nor ever has there been
to find that space between your chosen moments
to let you know that i so need you

if there is a plea which i might utter
that could stir you from within
if there is than this is it
i am lost and i am dying
and if it isn't you that turns to listen
to this last fading faltering plea
than it is over
i am gone
but for the wasted hope
of that brief silence
i am dead
i am gone

shiny badge

give someone a badge....
or something that shines like a badge in their mind

why are you here ?

why are you here ?
where have you come from ?
why have i been so cursed
with someone so brilliant and true
there's no time for your curious mind
no place for your eager inquisitive face
your light
it's too bright
it burns like the truth in the night
what am i supposed to do
with someone as bright
and as honest as you ?
i can't even kill you
though we both know i tried
you just didn't die on that night
which i guess was a good thing for all
but you were still here
constantly blazing that blistering brilliance
of your need for the truth and the light

i'll give you all that you need in this life
and more, so much more, wait and see
you'll find what it is that you're seeking
by the absence of all that you think you might know
the light will be turned on by forces of darkness
and truth so disguised by layers upon layers of lies
you'll come to know love by that which it isn't
you'll come to know peace on your knees
as you pray for relief from the pain and the aching
of too many days on the pilgrimage trail
and too many stark cold lonely nights

Three strikes you're out

My sweet mum, she was a saint
just as everyone's mum surely is
eight feral kids to feed and clothe
and a husband who liked his drink

my sweet mum worked most evenings
at a neighborhood greasy-spoon diner
in a rough part of our blue-collar town

my sweet mum was loved and revered
by the folks who frequented the place
it was the local biker gang's hang-out
and where cops would cop for a break.

By the time i was twelve years of age
I'd been before the judge three times
"I dunno, young fella, he pronounced;
three strikes you're out in this game.
I'm gonna give you one more chance,
your mum, she speaks quite highly
of your love of school and your art.
Let's hope we don't meet here again !"

Well it turned out that one of those cops
who was friendly with mum at the diner;
we had met at least one other time
as a result of one crime or another.

One evening he came to our door,
on the night my mum was off work.
He was holding something in hand.
It seemed an odd box of some kind
I still picture the smile on mum's face
as she called me to look at this gift.
It was a 'painter's box of colors'.
with words written on a tag;
"Good luck to you, Billy; remember;
it's three strikes you're out in this game !"

long lost love

This painter's box of colors
had been my true and only friend.
She was my love, my only hope

I shudder here, huddled, hunched
down here within this mausoleum ?
embracing my dead lover

a chill jolts through my being
colder than winter's ice
so long ago i'd laid to rest my beloved
believing she was lost forever

Painter's box of colours

That bond of ancient secrets was now broken.
with a thousand voices screaming in my head,
and another hundred howling in this heart;
I fell to digging with these urgent hands
the earth was old and cold, filled with grief.

I kept clawing until there was no more to dig.
There as I had left it, but for mud and scuffing.
A painter's box of colors, in my mother's scarf.
As I gazed upon this forgotten box of dreams,
a cellist drew a mournful wail across my heart.

A broken life

Today I paid a visit to an obscure, neglected grave,
where lies interred the remains of a promise,
that could not be acknowledged while you breathed.
If I knew the language of the undone and unspoken
I might have found the key to set this promise free.

This could never happen until you passed away,
as the revelation of our contract would unearth
the shameful truth regarding our bond of secrecy.
I was bound to hold this promise and never air the lie.
A broken life was mine to live, instead of certain death.

home again

who's gonna throw my pitiful ashes
into the holy mother ganges ?
it certainly can't be me
and for damn sure it won't be you
so who's it gonna be ?
who's gonna hold it as their sacred obligation ?
who's gonna ken the need for this to come to be ?

i've seen so many nameless shadows
lurking round so many darkened alleys
down in the zone of the living dead
who's gonna take the time and care
to honour their remains ?
who's gonna give a good goddam ?

how about you ? or you ?
or any one of you who by the grace
of some heavenly higher power or other
still have a name that might be carved
on any cold hard granite tombstone ?

their ain't no number high enough
for those forgotten souls that can't be counted
yet each might gain some sliver of an edge
by the whisper of your kind and sincere prayers

pray for the souls of the nameless ones
who've been long lost in those endless alleyways
as you'd pray for each grain of silvery sand
along the banks of sweet holy mama ganges

without each and every one of us
that guide the sacred waters home
there'd be no river
there'd be no rain
there'd be no sandy shores
and there'd be no hope
of a home to ever reach again

two hearts

Technicolor sky

It was in those early days

when everything seemed technicolor.

there was that explosion;

only inward;

then nothing;

then something called time;

interspersed with more implosions;

always sudden

always mysterious

always unexpected

always crippling in affect

 

and then....

it is decades later

it seems i have awakened from

an empty black and white dream

and i am looking up

at the technicolor sky

and all i want

is to be back safe

in my black and white dream

 

because that technicolor sky

is too beautiful and blazing

so filled with possibilities

lost possibilities

forgotten possibilities

stolen possibilities

broken possibilities

 

something about that technicolor sky

wants to tear this wounded heart apart

wants to make me look at it

wants to make me believe

that it can be a possibility for me

 

but I stay here, safe here

in my black and white dream

waiting for the blessed end

and I’m ready for the time

that I’m called up there again

into that technicolor sky

 

and those endless possibilities

promised by the technicolor sky

will be for me

---

(2013)

special kind of love

i want to know that special kind of love
the kind i see up there on the movie screen
not the dirty kind
not the whisper and giggle in your buddy's ear kind
not the kind in those playboy's under my older brother's bed
not the jerking off and thinking of all sorts of things kind
not the cheap and boozy kind
the kind it seemed my auntie knew too well
i loved my auntie
not like that
even though sometimes her house smelled like farts, sour beer and really strong perfume
i wonder why the rank odor of those men would linger on her clothes
and in my nose while i was walking home
i used to stay there with her sometimes
to get away from my crazy father
i'm the only one who knew he was crazy
everyone else seemed to believe he was a fine and noble man
not me though
i saw it in his eyes too many times
how much he loved to hurt me with the burning from his eyes
i think this was his special kind of love
he would smile
only at the corner of his mouth
not in his eyes
not those eyes
those crazy eyes
this seemed his special pleasure
to hurt me with his burning eyes

i don't think i'll ever know that special kind of love
i think i was hurt too much by those burning eyes
i think i'm not supposed to know that special kind of love
i think my father never knew this kind of love
he had eight kids
but i don't think it was anything special what he did to have us
i think he couldn't let anyone around him come to know
this special kind of love
so he burned me with his crazy eyes
so that i would be just like him
and he could feel okay inside
for a while anyway
my father is dead now
but sometimes
i still feel those crazy eyes burning into my secret self
it's okay, dad, i'll never know that special kind of love
just like you wished for me
i wonder if it's okay for me to want it still

please, dear reader
let's keep this our secret then

sshhhhhh

don't tell him
please
he might wake up and come and burn me with his crazy eyes
don't tell him
please

Precious gold

There ain't no precious gold
comin' outa that there mountain,
if all I wanna do is sit and dream
of what I'll do when I get some.

Why bother ?

There's a voice deep inside
getting stronger every day.
I cannot deny the message
these urgent words proclaim.

Why bother ?

Why seek the truth ?
Why speak of what I find ?
Why behave as if I risk it all ?

When I could easily sit here
fat and smug and silent;
so not to rock your cozy boat,
or upset your preferred versions
of what you think you've gained
from all the smoke and mirrors
that got you where you live.

Why bother ?

Why in hell not ?
Why in blessed heaven not ?
It doesn't look like you or you
will choose this any time soon.

Why bother ?

Don't dare seek.
Don't dare risk.
Don't dare discover.
Or if you do,
don't dare speak
of what you've found.

Why bother ?

It's clear that someone must.

If you don't like what I say,
you'll know how to find me;
where I've been all along;
Here in your collective cross-hairs.
Go ahead, do what you must.

Why have i ever bothered ?
Why bother still ?

Because the only thing worse
than the truth of life's travails,
is the barren desert of the lies.

Whipping-boy

What kind of fool must I be
to have trusted one like you ?
I brought my vulnerability before you
to bare my many broken parts.

Yet it seems too many times,
you trampled upon these wounds.
It seemed to satisfy some need
for you to feel important.

I am not your hostage
nor your whipping-boy.
Never have I been.

You have always been mistaken
if you believed I could be swayed
by anything but the light of truth.

You do not own me.
You cannot ever scold me.
If you think I'll sit by quietly,
I am not some weakling child.

You say I must not ever leave
our sacred gathering of communion.

I say I'll do this every time.
Why this is so, you might wonder,
though it has nothing to do with you.

It's either choose to leave,
or stay and stir up forces
that are better left at rest.

If you cannot clearly see this,
I do not really care.
I am not your whipping-boy,
and never shall I be.

I am here now

I am here now.

I have removed my outer garment,
placed my trust within your circle.
I have come because you promised.
You told me you would be here
if I were but to reach out.

It is written in your texts.
I often hear it spoken,
when you come together
in what you call communion,
as you hold your hands together
while you pray for my salvation.

I am here now

Yet I look around this chamber
for any sign of loving kindness;
your eyes refuse to welcome me;
they do not choose to meet mine.
Though your words say something else
you seem busy with your self-concern,
and a need to play some role.

I am here now.

I have come because you promised
but that promise proves false.
and in my grief and sadness,
I don again my worldly cloak,
and turn toward the door.
There's no-one that pursues me;
No-one that might dissuade me.
I hear the whisper of your prayers
for myself and those just like me
echo softly as I walk away.

homecoming

there ain't no going home again....no, not ever !
it's this stark truth that no-one ever spoke about
down round them grimey shit-stained alleyways
where cops and saints and angels forgot to tread

i often saw pig-willy in his pick-up out on the prowl
long before his swinish face e'er graced the news
i've heard the sound that no-one ever wants to hear
a life snuffed out at the cold hard end of a sudden drop

the cameras set to save the likes of willy's victims
who knows why, turned off and faced the other way
it seemed to save the sorry likes of some or others
but tell that to the forty-nine out there where they lay

Dark side of the moon

You may not wish to venture into
grim and gritty places I have been.
It seems I have an inborn obligation
to paint a clear and honest picture
of things and people I have known,
out on the dark side of the moon.

Broken comfort

I came to bless you with the mystery,
and shine my light on you.

I did not know
you could not risk the light,
nor dare the mystery.

You were so long frozen
in the broken comfort
of your endless night.

The master you serve

You say you serve the master,
the same one that I bow to.
You seem to think this true.
Yet I do not believe you.
Out of kindness I don't tell you
you would not believe my words.

The die has long been cast.
The price already paid.
All the words in your holy books
cannot change the truth.

But you keep reading,
you keep looking,
you keep searching,
you keep hoping,
sometimes even praying.

Somewhere in the pages
of your hallowed tome
lie those precious words;
instruments of your salvation.

They must be there.
You keep looking,
you keep reading,
you keep hoping.
The master's words,
they must be there.

But they are not there.
They have not ever been.
The sacred map is not the holy land.
The chalice never the Savior's blood.

horror doesn't know itself

horror doesn't know itself for what it is
as the mirror cannot reflect from within

Above the clouds

Some days
I love to fly so high
above the clouds
that i can see.

If i were just to fly
so very fast and far,
I'd be right where
I've always wished to be.

In that place 
where all the worldly 
curves converge.

The place i was.
The place i am.
The place i'll always be

Right here.
Right now.
Beneath the clouds
with you and you,,
and me.

Crown of thorns

I wear your prejudice and scorn
like an ancient crown of thorns.
And though I bleed and suffer,
it remains my solemn prayer;
this life's blood be transformed,
and your garden, parched and fallow,
may drink deep and bear new life.

To touch you

It's not sympathy I seek
as I bare my soul
on these oft dark pages.

I desire and crave
to touch you;
or any part of you
that might be stirred,
disturbed,
repulsed,
exalted,
or caused to risk
a second look within yourself.

I have no other mission
but to share these impressions;
before they dissipate
into the drifting wispy mists
from whence they came.

Fortress walls

My dreams are made of
blocks of cold hard stone;
when compiled together
comprise a stalwart fortress
to ensure I dwell alone.

Eternal wound

Cupid's arrow flew
and struck it's mark.
And pierced this heart
with an eternal wound.

I love you in all the ways
that poets sing and die for.

But;

I dare not touch you

No;

I must not touch you

No;

I cannot risk to stain your soul
with the blood of all the pain
this ravaged heart has cried.

I love you in all the ways
that poets sing and die for.

But;

I will never touch you.

Only thus my love for you
remains pure and true.

The monster

There's a monster in my house.
He doesn't live under the bed,
nor in the closet.

He's real !

He's downstairs right now.
I can hear him.
He's mad at the dog,
he won't stop beating him.

I know he will come for me;
I just don't know when.
Maybe tonight he'll be satisfied
with just hurting the dog.

Maybe not !

There's a monster in my house.

He's real !

He's my dad !

bad chemistry !

good intentions
plus
an overwhelming compulsion to share them
minus
patience and discretion
equals
bad chemistry !

"We"

How is it that you never ask
if I prefer to be included in
your current version of "we" ?

If you were to stop to ask,
it's clear what I would say.
How can you be the expert,
when even I don't know me ?

I cannot ever speak as though
I know what makes you tick.
It baffles me to see you think
you have mastered this trick.

I am afraid

I may think I'm not afraid,
and might believe this for a while.

Until again I see you there.
Until again I feel you there.
Until again I fear you there.

You are my own blood's brother,
that has slain me
since before the dawn of time.

Though I know with every sinew
of this mortal flesh and bone,
that our destiny is sealed
til we become as one.

I am afraid.

It's true I cannot hide from you.
I cannot run, nor can I conquer you

Only ever this must occur;
I must die again.
You must wield the sword.

You are my own blood's brother.
Your fate's entwined with mine.

I must die and you must slay me,
til for each the truth is known.
We must become as one

Yet....

I am afraid.

Only ever me

it's not the might with which you forge your way,
nor the means by which you hold your ground,
that serves to keep your from the gate.

None of that.

But the lasting pain you wreak,
the crippling legacy in your wake
can be summed up in one word

Fear !

though I may speak of you
and you and you and you,
Of course, it's me I see
reflected by your perfect looking glass.

It's not you I fear

It's only ever me.

I believe you

I finally turned to you for comfort
as I feared I'd lost my soul

Many things had to fall in place
for me to choose to call.

You once proclaimed an oath
one I believed you would honor

It took so much for me to swallow
what remained of pride or prejudice.

I needed you
I trusted you
I believed that you'd would honor
that sacred promise made back then.

But....

When I found myself defeated,
lost and broken at your door;
though I knocked long and hard
there would be no answer.

I could hear you shuffling there.
I could smell you cowering there.
I could hear your silent scream in there
for me to go and stay away.

Yet....

Here we find ourselves again,
humbly bowing at the feet
of our holy blessed Father.
and when I see you at the altar
and we embrace in our communion
and I hear your solemn oath declared
as I'd heard it many times before:

I believe you.

I believe that you will be there
when the night is at it's darkest,
and the solitary silence shrieks.

I believe you.

And I will turn to you again
because you vowed to be of service,
though you keep your doorway barred
another thousand times or more.

I believe you.

to what end ?

you've made all the right executive decisions
layer upon layer of cleverly crafted safety nets
designed to cover every conceivable possibility

to what end ?

the jumping off point from known to unknown
leads only ever into the infinite mysterious void
no amount of careful contrivance can alter this truth

to what end....indeed ?

What i saw

What I saw;

Those eyes
once human,
from some other place,
of hell and murder.
No mercy.

That face,
once my father's,
now a savage beast
wanting only murder;
wanting only
that I should die.

What i smelled....

Stale tobacco,
rotting teeth,
rancid beer,
sharp stinking hatred;
that familiar reek
of dominance
and contempt

What i felt;

Burning drops of sweat,
sour spittle on my face.
Those giant hands
around my fragile throat;
squeezing,
squeezing,
too hard,
too long.

What i knew;

I was dying
at the hands of this imposter.
He who stole my father's shell;
this one who came from hell
to take my life away.

What i saw;

The tunnel closing in
to a bright white pinpoint.
This was it,
life was over,
I was dead

Or so i believed.

What i saw;

Upon awakening
a large stark shadow
looming ominous and dark
in that doorway.

What I heard;

Don't say anything....
or else !
in as stony cold a voice
I've ever heard.

What i knew;

I would never speak of this
or other acts of horror;
seen and heard there,
in that place I knew as home.
I would speak no more
of what I saw then,
what I heard then,
what I smelled then,
what I felt then.

I would not speak of anything
that could ever lead me back
to the brink of that fearful place;
I thought I had been cursed to
for eternity and beyond.

Most of all....

I would speak no more
of anything at all.

the mask i believe in

Today I don the mask of certainty
that I do not wear a mask at all.

Thus here I stand naked before you,
fully clothed in my latest disguise.

Winter's ice

I lay here frozen in silence
deep beneath the winter's ice.

Hope and faith now long departed
gone the way of autumn's leaves.

Spring seems but a broken promise
whispered on the summer's breeze.

read my lips

hey....you....

read my lips
you can't see 'em
but they're yappin'

these scrawled
word pictures
will have to do

what you think
i do this for ?

just to feel the breeze
of my own lips flappin' ?

well....
partly
yes !

but way down deep
somewhere deeper than
space/time herself
there's a primal urge
to scream out
from this ancient
dank and dingy cave
in a voice you'll never hear

hence these primitive scribbled markings

i won't be here
if or when this message finds you

still i trust you'll get the point

read my lips
you can't see 'em
but they're flappin'

these scrawled
word pictures
will have to do

one way street

the story of my life
seems to be a trail
of one way streets
leading to dead ends

what the deal is there
i still don't have a clue
it's always been my dime
and ne'er a thing from you

or you or you or you

oh poor pity me
whatever shall i do ?

bah...
humbug !

you want some flowery words ?

not here
not now
perhaps not ever

one thing is still certain
if you turn this way at all

what you see
is what you get

i won't dazzle you with charm
nor buy your silly games

as a wise old elder
from an ancient noble clan
advised one day long past

get real !
or get lost !

these words are offered freely
to you and you and you

and you !

He is waiting

He is waiting;
always waiting.
He has no plan,
doesn't need one.
He's lying in wait
around every corner
for that moment
when you least suspect.
He knows your weakness.
You won't see him.
He's too slick and shifty.
You can't stop him;
no point trying.

What you gonna do ?

Who you gonna call ?

business as usual

the high-falutin' corporate hoi polloi
of some officially designated executive branch
assigned to crucial and sensitive matters
regarding ridiculous meticulous specific particulars
convened an emergency ad-hoc huddle today
to urgently address a muddled-up kerfuffle
of extreme importance and far-reaching ramifications
for absolutely no-one at all

not to worry....

it's just business as usual

Sweet holy mother

Sweet holy mother of us all,
comfort me this mournful eve.
My weary soul cries out
I feel swallowed up by
what seems an endless plight.

Sweet holy mother of us all,
hold me to your tender bosom
and soothe this aching heart.

Sweet holy mother of us all,
please come to me this night;
so I might again rest peacefully
nestled in your divine embrace.

It must be so !

Some executive vice-president,
in charge of nothing and no-one,
has officially decreed that
I'm a clear and present danger
to the imaginary kingdom,
wherein he's fought so long
to gain his lofty status.

It must be so !

However else could he rationalize
the price he chose to pay
to attain the right to say
that things must go his way ?

It must be so !

Or else !

It declares in his book of revelations,
his peers and allies all concur,
the rest of the executive directorship
are lined up to show their support
as he's a fine upstanding fellow;
except when he sits down, of course.

It must be so !

And even if it isn't,
they dare not let anyone know.
However could they justify their clout
and positions of esteem that they possess
Whatever would the neighbors think ?
how could one explain it to the spouse ?

It must be so !

Woe to the ones who see right through
the sleight of hand, smoke and mirrors.
Pity those that dare to speak of this
and blow their cover to smithereens

It must be so !

Qr else !

born to run

sitting still and quiet
yet running like hell
oh so fast
towards oh so far away

seems to be
some primal urge
to live
to breathe
to eat
to hunt
to mate

to stay alive
another moment
another day

a primal wordless
inner voice
urgently commands

keep running
or die

to be still
is to be eaten

to be still
and quiet
is to die

the guilty one

yes
it's me

i am the guilty one

it all comes back to me
no sense in pretense
the charade ends here and now
the jig is up
time to face the music
it's open and shut
case closed
time to come clean

now what ?

tried to turn myself in
the cells were full
they were understaffed
some kind of union action
well....
inaction actually

i was officially advised
which makes it for real
just like on TV
i have copies of the forms
in triplicate of course

so....
they told me
to go back where i came from
they wouldn't and couldn't deal with me
i had already done my time
i wasn't even a statistic anymore

not crazy enough to lock up
yet too far gone for help

there were plenty of folks around
that would never let me live it down

something like the mark of judas
or cain
or something
scarred across my brow

some kind of sign or symbol
that everyone could see
but for me

what it says is this....
i am the guilty one

and i must forever pay

just who did i think i was anyway ?
waking the sleeping elephant in the parlour

and telling all about it
in great and gory detail
out there beyond the bolted doors
and shuttered windows

the original sin
it seems
to speak the unspeakable
to violate the sanctity of the unsanctified
to speak the evil
i had heard and seen

what kind of loyal monkey was i anyway ?

to break the unwritten unspoken code
how was i to know this ?

it was never written down or spoken about
how was i to know ?

i was supposed to know
this is certain

how was it i didn't know ?
and the rest seemed to be born knowing ?

i don't know
never did
likely never will

in the end
it all boils down to this

i am the guilty one

yes
it's me

i am the one

from the shadows

i've chosen to rip the lid off a malignant situation
you should have seen them skittery critters scatter
in any and all directions for shelter from the light

whatever it was got into me i still don't have a clue
at times it seems i'm led by fear of being devoured
by the things i hear that beckon from the shadows

forces of darkness

the forces of darkness
don't care for the truth
or the light that it sheds
on their whole situation

the truth don't just hurt
but it burns and it blinds
and fouls up the works
of their malevolent minds

it's in the eyes

often i have found myself
faced with this dilemma
to place my faith and trust
with someone i don't know

it's in the eyes
they never lie
never have
never will

there are volumes
upon volumes
of all i need to know
staring there right at me
through that window
to the soul

it's in the eyes
they never lie
never have
never will

but am i looking
for the truth ?

or am i more than willing
to invest in the story
being sold ?

not in words
nor in prospects
but something in the eyes
always in the eyes

sometimes
i seem to choose
to disregard the signs
clear though they may be

sometimes i am blinded
by those eyes that gaze at me

it's in the eyes
they are awaiting

do i choose
to risk the danger ?

i have taken countless journeys
to great heights and depths
in the name of what i thought i saw
or hoped to see
in the eyes of one i loved

the signs were always there
with each and every one

the truth was glaring at me
was it truth i chose to see ?

i don't know
i don't think so

i preferred to chase the dream
than what my eyes did see

young sailors

when young sailors
set out to ply the seas
on the greatest of
their life's adventures
it rarely comes to mind
to carry trusted maps
of the way safe home

perhaps it's that they
cannot ever know where
that home might prove to be
or it seems more likely
if they knew what lay in store
on those exotic shores
they might not ever venture
beyond their own front doors

Scatter my ashes

Please.

Before i die,
scatter my ashes
to the endless sky.

I was never the man
you thought I was,
nor ever shall I be.

Please.

Before I die,
scatter my ashes
to the endless sky.

So you will have
known me
when I'm here no more.

delicious tears

tragedy ripped through my heart today
like the razor claws of a savage beast
delicious tears bled from the wound

on the fence

that fence you like to sit on
in the end is like a razor
if you choose to stay there
it will split you right in two

two masters

serve two masters ?
can't be done
never has
never will

trappings of the world
are just that....
trappings !

once in....
very difficult to get out

first....
one must choose
to know the difference

why ?
why bother ?

two masters ?
what does this mean ?

all good questions
indeed

to be in the world
but not of it

to render unto caesar
that which is due caesar

to render unto god
that which is due god

to choose
to know the difference

this is the trick
this is the trouble
this is the human dilemma

why suffer ?
why suffer needlessly ?

as it's said
you can't take it with you

wherever it is you're going ?
who knows ?

no-one escapes
no-one is exempt

to choose or not to choose
this is the question

to not choose
is to die
slowly
a living death

to choose is to live
whatever one's choice may be

abuse

i turned to someone today
for an objective ear
in a confidential arrangement
bad choice
i had forgotten that this person is incapable of such a thing
we had played out this melodrama before
didn't take long until i was reminded
my long-time mentor is away for a while
this other person presents as a mentor
he is not qualified
he didn't seem to understand the need to remain neutral
he took a lot of what i said personally
not to him though
in regards to other folks he knew
who were not present
i was not allowed to finish what i set out to say
i instead was being drawn into a heated debate
been there and done that
ad nauseum
i chose to get up and say these words
i will not debate with you
i am leaving
goodbye
he complained
why are you leaving ?
i said
i'm not here to baby-sit your feelings
which are yours and not caused by me
i am a free agent and choose to do as i please
as i was leaving
feeling quite clear and self-assured
and free
i noticed the most profound look of perplexity on his face
like a puzzled frustrated dog
the moment he chose to allow his knee-jerk reactions
to cloud his objectivity
he became angry and defensive
then he became offensive
it seemed he felt absolutely justified in visiting me with his frustration and anger
i refused to accept it
his anger does not belong to me
his belief that he could be this way with me seemed natural enough to him
but to me....this is the seed of abuse
i chose to break that cycle with this person
he will never have my permission to express frustration in an angry way towards me
he will always have my permission to express his feelings without blaming me for them

the end ?

the beginning ?

Tribesman

There is a tribesman deep within
alert to countless subtle shifts
regarding prevailing conditions,
in the teeming forests all about.

He is the ever vigilant guardian
with inborn instincts finely honed
He knows that you are lurking near,
and there's more than one of you.

He sensed you long before you came
he is only ever these questions;
are you friend ?
are you foe ?

There is nothing you can say or do;
no signal you can show to fool him.
What he needs to know is clear,
coursing through his primal veins.

silly me !

i waded in chin held high
equipped with righteousness
and a well-honed sense
of what was true and noble

silly me !

before i knew what hit me
i lay flattened on the floor
bleeding from claw-marks
i couldn't have seen coming

silly silly me !

looking back now i see
who was lying in wait for me

the witches 3
the witches 3
they have returned
to deal with me

i should have known
they could ne'er allow
a living soul to get away
not forever anyway

silly me
oh silly silly me !

the witches 3
the witches 3
have waited oh so patiently

the witches 3
the witches 3
are chanting now with glee

bubble bubble
no toil or trouble
the kettle's all aboil
we have a special guest for tea
hee hee !

what a fool i've been
to think they had forgotten me

the witches 3
the witches 3
must make me pay
for all the netherworld to see

oh silly silly silly me !

ripples

Of course I see these things
it's all I choose to do all day
It's never personal they say;
whoever "they" are anyway ?

But this I know as true as life;
the tiniest hurt is like a pebble
causing lasting harmful ripples
throughout space and time.

If I could only know the suffering
I bring to those who've yet to be;
I might think twice or even more
about things I say or do to thee.

the principle of the thing

along the lines of
shakespeare's words
to be or not to be ?
whether tis nobler....
slings and arrows....
and so on and so forth

to speak or not ?
there's the question !

choose to go along ?
don't dare stir the pot ?
let the bullies conquer ?
i certainly do think not !

without the underlying
guiding rule of order
it seems i'd like to do
the thing i'd always choose
take the easier softer way

anything to brush aside
the sometimes painful
voice of truth and reason

my words will tell you
what i think i stand for
aahhhh....but my actions
speak entirely for themselves

all i've left to call my own
are certain sacred principles
i will not give them up for
the sake of your convenience

i will not sacrifice my truth
or the right to give it voice
to satisfy personal preference
on the part of any one of you

it may seem like splitting hairs
you can think the thing you like
but long experience tells me this

if i settle for the easier softer way
and do not set my sights beyond

i'll get what i've always gotten
on the same old merry-go-round

been there, done that, etc. and so on

you may not like the things i say
or how i choose to say them
but it's most sure i won't be silent
so as not to rock your comfy boat

sail along....sail along

Just another hurt

If you wonder why
I don't care to be around you,
it's not personal.

You've shown me
far too many times,
you're just another hurt
waiting to happen.

All your fancy words
of your noble intentions
fall like pebbles in the dust
between you and me.

It's not for lack of trying.
I have come to this conclusion;
It's best to leave you be.
You're just another hurt
waiting to happen.

leave me be

please....
leave me be !

if i want assistance
i will ask

not you though,
guaranteed....
why is that ?
simple really....

you seem invested
in managing my life's affairs

why ?

i don't know
i have no idea
i can only guess
and my guess is this....

if you're focused on me,
you're not focused on you

if you're not focused on you
you're not minding your affairs

if you're not minding your affairs,
how are you qualified
to manage anyone's affairs....
let alone mine ?

show me, please....
don't tell me !

if i wanted what you're selling
i would be first in line

i'm not though....
am i ?
have you noticed ?
obviously not

still, you're even more dogged with
what seems a compulsive obsession

i believe you don't care about me
i believe your crusade is self-serving
i believe you can't help yourself
i refuse to enable you
i refuse to comply

i understand you
more than you might imagine

your actions say more
than any well-intentioned words
could possibly convey

show me....please....
don't tell me !

and please, please, please....
leave me be !

and take that white horse
you came in on with you

it's stinkin' up the joint

please

what's the big deal ?

what's the big deal ?
what's the big deal ???????

i'll tell you what's the big deal !

everything !

well....almost everything !

hmmmmm....

pretty near almost everything !
except for some stuff......
but darn near everything else though
just about....

and then there's some other stuff too

so-o-o-o....

maybe not everything
but it's a lot......
well....maybe not quite as much as i thought
now i come to think about it
okay some stuff is sure a big deal
it really is....

everybody seems to agree
well, almost everybody....
okay, a lot of folks do

ummmm....

okay, i heard a few people talking
well, a couple then
but more than me
that's for sure
i think....

so-o-o-o-o....

what's the big deal ?

hmmmmm....

maybe not so much after all
and if i stop and really look
there isn't much that's a big deal
and if i'm really really honest
the answer to the big question

what's the big deal ?....is....

nothing !

nothing at all !

maybe, baby

yes ?
no ?
maybe so ?

don't know if it's yes just now
not sure if it's no either

so-o-o-o....

it's maybe, baby !
that's all there is to that

there ain't no room for maybe
when it's yes or no....or else !

that's a crazy-making proposition
sure to drive you straight to hell

freedom it ain't !

so when your shorts are in a knot
and you can't make up your mind
just remember these two words....

maybe, baby !
that's all there is to that

now this is freedom !

Sshhhhh

I'm here for you;
but,
I'm not really here for you.
Yes, I'm here for you
but, not really.

Sshhhhh

Don't let anyone know
I can't be here for you
I can't be here for myself
I can't let anyone know this
I must appear to be strong
I am not strong
I want to be here for you
I can't be here for you

Sshhhhh

Let this be our secret
Let's pretend
Let's never talk about it
Everyone will think all is okay;
and we'll have pretend happiness.
We'll have pretend safety
We'll be one big pretend happy family
We can all pretend to be here for each other
But, of course, not really.

Sshhhhh....

Shadow man

Here he is again;
once my worst nightmare.
There's no saying goodbye.
He's with me for the long haul.
He lives within.
He is everything and nothing.
He is the shadow man.

Just because I can't see him,
doesn't mean he's not there.
He is always with me.
He is the shadow
I sometimes choose to hide in.
He is the shadow man.
He won't let me forget him.
I can't seem to forgive him.

During calmer times,
I know his reason for being.
I accept this as a necessary truth;
without him I would not know the light.

Sometimes I feel lost in him.
Sometimes I feel trapped by him.
Sometimes I cry out in panic.
Sometimes I shudder with dread.
Sometimes I believe he is more.
than just the shadow man.
Sometimes I believe he is the man;
and what he says goes.

He is only ever this;
no more, no less.
He is the shadow man