I Keep Your Light Pressed in a Book

Dear, your eyes are not the stars

They are not the stars

 

Though when we watched the cars

Blur along the highway

I felt you

 

And when the red tip of your cigarette

Crumbled in the river

I knew that we were fine

 

Because the stars in the sky

Were always too distant

 

To compare to what I knew,

Could never be so far

Nonsense

Green

Blue

Yellow glue

Drink it with a cup of dew

 

Orange

Yellow

Purple

Jell-O

Life is like

A single

Bellow

 

Words are like the

Living

 

Be alive

 

It is not enough

To die

 

Cry

But always try and find

The Why

 

Eat

The sweet

Be the sweet

 

Try to not resent

What doesn’t quite make sense

It’s okay to sort the nonsense

But don’t let it kill you

 

Be alive

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’re All Mad Here

Okay

I think I understand

The sunlight rests on quicksand

And the faster it moves

The faster it sinks

 

Maybe 

If you lassoed it 

With something thick

We could stick it 

With some peppermint

And sip

sip 

sip

 

Nevermind

I’m only dreaming

(But I could go on)

What do you think?

 

I know

You like the smell of air

When there is nothing to do

When there is nothing to do

I’d do anything with you

 

Here’s an idea:

Let’s buy a white rabbit

And chase it–

Like that curious girl

Who fell in a dream

 

Don’t buy me a thing

We’ll get rich

Selling roses 

People will buy them if we smile

(And paint the white ones red)

Never-mind what nature said

No one needs white roses

 

Anyways

This is how

We will spend our days

Don’t think about it

And it won’t feel strange

 

I will tell you more in time

But for now let’s sip this cheer wine

Forget that we are dreaming

And watch that Cheshire moon

Smile

Milk Chocolate

The air is like the milk chocolate

We pressed in our mouths

When the day was yellowish-gold

And the grass, twisted and sweet

Like green licorice.

 

I do not  mind

That the days were never long enough,

And that when we waved our hands

In the smoky dusk,

And felt the thin sweat of daylight

Drip down our necks

 

We were not fully satisfied.

 

There was never enough time

To grow up

Between the flower crowns

And sand buckets

The thick trees and wide rivers,

But we did.

And I know we are better for it—

Better, fuller, deeper,

 

But still not satisfied

 

Our Merry Sinful Sins

The rain, oh the rain

Is cold like blue skin

I told you I was burning out

You told me to come in

 

The coffee that you poured for me

Was blacker than my sin

So we drank to the dark

And our merry sinful sins

 

By the way I am young

Like Fresh butter on a bun

Never mind the old grey faces

That mutter with their tongues

 

The starlight spits its silver

And the Moonlight drinks its rum

So lets scald our throats with laughter

Til’ our mother’s say were done

This Double Flavored Life

The almond branch trees dip in the dark warmth.

A scythe of wind stirs the silence.

 I watch as the moonlight pools in shadows,

And house lights on the black water stretch like redemption.

 

Tomorrow, the light will steep

This moment pale

And even the thought of it will not feel the same.

I wrap it round my finger, and sing an old refrain.

It reminds me of another good thing gone.

Even in the midst of happiness

We sense the end, and are sad.

 We speak of things that were not meant to end,

And name them bittersweet.

The warm fruit resting in our Father’s hand

Was good, and was evil.

The warm fruit resting in our Father’s hand was tasted.

 

 So for now, we must taste both.

For now the sweet, must be bitter

 the bitter, sweet

though we can to choose to linger on the sweet.

 

 

(another older one) 

Insignificance Revisted

The world

All green and blue and tilted

Is a nice enough place.

I was going to say

That I think it is useless

Understanding Life.

I was going to say

That it is all so insignificant.

But if it is

 Then why should I even write this?

So let me begin again.

 

The world

All green and blue and tilted

Is a nice enough place.

The day is watery bright

Like condensation on a lemon wedge.

People are happy enough to die,

People are sad enough to start living.

And it all matters so much–

The unbearable, the beautiful,

The sticky little leaves.

How  we know

That there must be more than this

But for now

This is enough.

 

 

( I posted this as a note on facebook, but my blog makes me feel legit, so here it is once more.)

 

 

 

Listen

The rain falls like tin

Clear and sweet

Around the white lamplight

 

City Shadows, Colorful

I think of Rome in summertime,

Flipping through the gloss on photographs.

The bright colors, green, yellow, orange, blue

The clumps of roses carried near you.

 

Faces that you passed,

Will always smile in your photographs.

A crowd of stories, friends, and conversations,

A collage of colors on your wall. 

 

But they are just shadows after all–

Flash moments of real peoples lives,

Printed onto printing paper.

And you can not help but wonder

 

How or where they ended up.

And if they made the most of life, til now–

Eating, talking, sleeping sound,

Falling in love.

 

The violinist on that street in Rome,

The middle-aged friar in his brown robe.

The  rose peddlers near the Spanish Steps

Or that gold haired girl in Venice,

 

chasing pigeons.

Nine to Five and Its Side Effects

Yellow dawn caught in the trees,

dead grass beneath the dead leaves.

Tell me–

How do you live for immortality?

 

Tasteless cereal and weak caffeine,

your sweatshirt stained with gasoline.

I wonder–

If today is a day that was meant to be seized?

 

Sharp tongued wind, and turned down faces,

we can always think of  better places.

Tell me–

Is it a crime to wish this day away?

 

Yellow taxi cab at noon,

no time for the things we did not do.

I wonder–

Will there be enough tomorrows for all that we have missed?

 

 Dusk and thoughts stretched lifeless in your head,

all those things you wished you had not said,

Tell me–

Is each day meant for something?

 

A street lamp glows in the parking lot,

some whispers shared on the city dock.

I wonder–

Would you wait a while here with me?