Derail

when i was a boy
a hundred yesterdays ago
from my father's lap
i would pretend to drive

and at the carnival, i would sit
in the balloon coloured boats
and turn and turn the half moon wheel
but only go round in circles

so off to the merry go round!
where all the pretty ponies grinned
i was so sure they could gallop me off
to an old west adventure
cross painted deserts
jump the fence i couldn't
but they only bobbed up and down
in a zombie march

once, at a theme park deep in the woods
they had a real train, or so it seemed
and the engineer wore a hat
just like casey jones!
but even the tame geese
mocked our two dollar circle

i'm older now and trapped in the knowing
that i still don't drive where i'd like
the ponies won't jump
and that fucking train
just won't derail

lost in the pause

Yesterday i was many things
and today i am  only one

a farm is a field is a fence to a cow
a drive to a house to a man full of labor
and a barn full of sunrises
blazing stories over meadow

A day is a morning
full of coffe and promise
a lunch is a pause in a midnight sun
and the afternoon sets a table for
twilights mischief

I have been these things, only yesterday
But today, i am only a dirty mug
on a barren shelf in an empty barn
the needle that drones
at the end of a Victrola's symphony

I suppose the many things i was yesterday
go on without me as they should
in the land beyond my surrender
where the colours hid my fear

But i have found to let them go
is to be let go if never was
yesterday i was many things
today i am only one

disorder

my hair flies wild these days, where it will,
as countless minuscule beams of
sourceless light, and so do i

was a time it lay buttered and tamed
capped and clipped proper
like a boy's first day at school
before the apple lost it's shine
but then, so did i

some tell of an explosion;
have you heard it? BANG!
and off they went! shooting this way
falling that way, a billion stars
in a cosmic fart tumbling
end over end in a radiant giggle

only to settle in the dust
of a first breath's whisper
where the symmetry of all we know
and dream, finds definition

it seems the tale of order,
this giant ball of gas condensed in black
sitting like a dozing judge before
endless testimony and blind witnesses
as so then, did i

but in so much order
like a sausage left in the sun
depth is a stench that
breaks the heart's spirit

a place where dreamless still men
on seas of glass drift blindly in circles
while never trod lands languish
and disappear beyond secret horizons

once in a universe does the cosmos fart
but everyday a twig breaks
snap! snap!
and chaos bears a child

a door slams, the dog barks
the cat jumps, the bird flies
and so do i

Baton Rouge

i hate this sky that can't decide
this broken wing, that just won't fly
i hate the things i didn't say
and the things i did
that went astray

there's a river flowing through me now
and it spills where it will
forking into cat tails
standing like soldier's tombstones

well, damn that river
and it's crazy ways
and damn the bridges
that spare you from me

and damn the light of yesterday
that illuminates today
where i fell and broke your leg

i knew a young boy once
and damn him too
and he knew a girl
who damned him one better

and i knew a highway
that knew a field
and together they conspired
to jester me to you

and i knew our name
scrawled by you in timeless sand
but if there we now went
could we find us in it?

damn the no i know
you knew

damn the ways that churn me black
the things i said
i can't take back
damn the things i didn't say, and
damn the loss of yesterday
damn this sky that can't decide
and damn this Baton Rouge

insanity

insane?
me??
says who?
oh, yeah, guess i did

well, what is sanity anyway,
in a world such as this?

this is a place that calls God love
then kills in His name
just to prove it

a place where starvation
grows like kudzu in Georgia
as billion dollar satellites play bumper cars
to get the better picture of it

we put up signs and erect fences
to claim ownership of an acre of earth, and
am i crazy to not understand, how
a person can own a piece of planet?

we kill our children
who quite readily, return the favor
and build mansions as empty tombs
turning stone into tin
only to vacation in busy campgrounds
to better bitch

i have thoughts
haven't you?
crazy ones, ones
that make me hide in myself
as in, what the fuck was that?
did any one see?

but i rarely see them through
does that make me sane
or criminally civil?

maybe we're all insane
that would explain much
and maybe I'm just a minority member,
insane beyond the loop

after all, democracy defines truth
and righteousness

i like my crazy thoughts
i like that i question theirs

i wish i could say that i have hope
that the sane will save us all
once they root out the rebels
but i fear
someday
only the bumper cars in space
will tell the tale
and the bones and blood
won't care to listen

contradiction

contradiction


hedonism;
it's not so bad once everything else is lost



man and machines;
today i saw a pair of fox
racing each other across the highway
one made it, the other didn't
a piece of car flew as if the price
the golden fox, so unaware
was trampled, rolled,
and skidded in final movement


what a waste

i looked at its tail of harvest sunset
flawless and softer
than any love i ever knew

i hate us for what we are
and yet,
my chips are on the table
steaming for an ace

hedonism;
it's not so bad, once everything else is lost

we the strong

ok, i abhor us
is that clear enough?

the high-pitched squeal of the apple tree
says, come!
be blessed of my fruit
rest in my shade
make love to my limbs
and bring a friend

but we rattle our sabres, pillage and destroy
wanting the best
wanting the all
and we piss a deed in crafting laws
carving initials, building fences
til at last, in a violent shake
the rot that fills the earth
is our very own in ugly conquer

we, tin soldiers us,
invent threats from hungry souls
and forgotten hearts
while we build our cities
with the bones of the weak
grinding them into battle hymns
that reverberate through history
teaching a stronger generation of warriors

we are a warring noisy people
greed is our bagpipe
the glint of steel our code of honour
and the backs of the unsuspecting vanquished
our very foundation

and this do i abhor
for i have learned it as well

my stuff

I remember long ago in my youth, the first real good sleeping bag i bought.
It said it would keep me warm down to twenty below and it kept its word.
Still does
But when i got it home i noticed it came with a tiny blue sack.
From my knees i held it up, studied it, shook it.
No way this big puffy ball of warm was going in this thing!
But liking a challenge, i tried my best.
I tied it, rolled it, folded it, this way and that, over and over as the sweat beaded
and the FUCKS! flew bouncing off the walls.
Finally, i called the company to explain they had given me the wrong sack.
I could tell by her laughter that i wasn't the first to call in with this problem.
"that's why it's called a stuff sack, sir. you just grab a handful and start stuffing!"
That seemed crazy to me and against everything i'd ever learned, but agreed to give it a shot.
Sure enough, in a minute or so the bag was completely encapsulated in the tiny sack, tight as a drum.
I sat back on my haunches and marveled.
It seems this has become my life

a lot of stuff, ya know?
and me being a people, i figure i'm supposed to carry it all.
So i fold, roll, tie n tuck-but it don't fit.
Kinda like an ostrich who thinks just cuz his head is in the hole, his ass must be gone too.
But it aint. Its right there, just prime for kickin
So i stuff til it fits, but then it's like a possum, tits up three days on the highway.
A ghastly explosion is imminent and there'll be plenty to go around
So fuck the stuff
I'll leave it where it lies
Walk lighter
And leave the crows to to feast on the
bullshit i can't carry