Tuesday, September 11, 2012

I still smell that night in the room of our father in a den made of opium, a bed of codeine

Naked and glowing from the light of the stars your silhouettes danced like puppets and demons

Yet you sat there starring like you could change the ending replaying that movie over and over

As I just sat there watching, my head in a rainbow, asleep in a cloud, knowing my mission was only to save you

Look! Look! Little brother I drew you a picture and if you look really closely, this light through my fingers will make you a donkey

What's wrong little brother can I not entertain you with great feats of magic to hang on the wall.

I saw you that morning and I didn't want to wake you as you lay on the floor looking so peaceful

But when you arise we'll talk little brother and we'll sing and we'll dance because there's always tomorrow.

A shallow glow radiates warmth to my face.
I love these moments and make every effort to hold tight.
Clouds that shadow cast a coolness of the coming seasons
But the sun still holds on, it's still too early, it's still early.
It's still to early so I grab the warmth like a soft blanket
To set at the corners of my thoughts, nicely folded
And I will pull this day out in the times to come
to brace against December winds.

Monday, September 10, 2012

You can see at a glance in the face of the buildings, 
painted and vacant lies the soul of my city
A beat of a heart that sounded of youth,
of faces and dreams that have done all but shattered,
scattered and worn like the weight on my shoulders, and the toll that is taken on the words of my father. Boarded decayed we lay out the offerings of dog eared books, teachings and religions, gathered through time, life weighed in possesions that take me further and further away from my passions. Tired I sit and stare at the papers, plans that I made at a younger time did not take account eyes that are greying or tomorrows departing with no arrivals, a soul that still fights beneath all the burdens, a mounding pile of valuable garbage, a heart that longs for someone who can make things more clearer. A walk in the clouds down near the river and to know that my song will not be forgotten, realizing inside it has never been heard.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

A candle's lit upon the sill
Beautiful against the night
Though little warmth does touch its glow
There is a hope within its light
But outside in the darken streets
Creatures of the night time venture
Throw themselve upon the window
Trade themselves for something shiney.
A sun sets its shadows earlier now
Ever rolling are the glints of silver
Behind the silohuettes
Beneath the squinting brow
I cup my hand against the glare
The air still warm, a feel, familiar
My life defines its many a years
For the end of summer now draws near.