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lost is a word, a poor featherless bird, a simple request dark and desperately purred. lost is looking in windows and begging down doors, lost is waging incredibly self-serving wars. lost is tossing out facts without ever dreaming, and cheap artifacts, never brilliantly scheming. lost is wishing and praying that it could erase the distinct memory of a cold infant face. lost is slowly erasing the prospect of grace. lost is searching but never arriving in place. lost is great, rules the state and the food on your plate. gone in it's glory , sorrowfully found in our hard human story.
little wings flutter and fly away. little tears that i might cry today. little words whispered so soft i can't hear. little souls i never knew, though hold dear. little reminders i find everywhere. little big lessons they teach with such care. little cuts hurt and they won't ever heal. tiny little medicines help me to feel, lucky for all little things we've begun and for all of the wonder and world yet to come. precious little moments my husband and i will look to the future and never ask why, little feet are not running under our loving sky.
beauty, beauty everywhere. deep or lofty, busy, spare. i love to love those beautiful things, i crave the magic that they bring. i drink strong coffe, sit and spin. i wonder at the world we're in. above, beyond all deep despair is crisp and clear true breathable air. will take some effort to keep it there. we have to look we have to care. to keep the soft and sea-green places, brick and stone and smiling faces. cool, clean water to swim in, to drink. quiet corners to sit and to think. beauty safe and beauty warm, beauty inconsolably torn.
a wish, a wish, a delicate kiss on the lips of whim and wistfulness. a play, a play, a tire-swing day, scent of earth and rain and hay. a walk, a walk, a skip, a run, a tiredness deep when adventure is done. a fire, a fire, a lap, a mug, a bath, a mother, a bearskin rug. a bed, a bed crisp-clean and tall, a pillow to land on if ever i fall. a voice, a voice mere feet away, we'll talk and laugh from where we lay, about our luck and everything that sweet tomorrow might just bring.
when the trip goes sour, when the whip comes down, when the party is over, when the smokestack's blown, when the truth comes out, when the canopy falls, when the car hits the ditch, when our kids hit the wall, when the grass turns to ash, when the birds turn to stone, when the day turns to darkness, when flesh becomes bone, when the poor walk away, when the supper's gone cold, when the bridges come down, when the carpet is rolled, there'll be nothing to fear, there'll be nowhere to fall , all the dangers will be so incredibly small.
if ever was a time to travel the edge of a subtle but very distinctly drawn line, the place would be now and then and somehow with sanity chosen we would all see the end with clarity blooming or perhaps the beginning of give and take blurring of love and hate blending of certain quite human-like mixed message sending of drinking and falling of better things calling of clocks dressing up like they're men of importance still hope crawling over the skin of performance with everything open and nothing behind us no reason no dreaming no vision to blind us.
towering bliss, flowering sky, glass and stone swaying, incredibly high. deep men under bridges magestically guarding their precious lot, garbage to me and you, but box and rebag this is what they do to pass time in the city of mine and of yours, city of laughter and large closing doors. neighbors so neighborly, others walk fast, some sit real slowly to capture the last friendships they have and have had in the past. the silk lady sitting, the plastic man twitching, the match girls are flipping, weird bench ladies gripping, the street cars go whipping the city so vast.
window covered, still can see the fire escape so stoicly hanging, steel bars and sun shining through. metal is old but its purpose strong too. began as a route to get out of here fast now we sit and have smokes, watch the shadows it casts. sweet romeo climbs up delicately to say, hey i'm lost, i'm hungry, take me in, i'm a-stray. mrs. chan uses hers for the colorful flags of laundry, hung daily, an endless parade of colorful shirts and dresses she's made. black city staircase, holds clay pots and flowers, glimpses of outside our rough city towers.
Dramatically unfolding yet another tale, calamity and woe. oh so interesting, we could never fail to go and entertain the masses and also the throngs, the human condition, the rights and the wrongs, we love the talk and sweat drenched fuzzy details in stories too, "please tell me something horrible! i',m bored, i'm bored, i've nothing to do." pass the plate, these chips are great! hey, what did you say, a crash on route eight? a quake, a flood, a tumbling down, a deep heart broken, a vomiting clown, an aging body designer-gown, another day, twenty more on the ground.
A row of wind-felled tulips, like still bright colored kites. the scent of weighted lilac blooms, distinct, perfumes the night. it's young and we are walking through the neighborhood again. i hold your hand, you kiss my neck, the sky begins to bend into a deeper darker blue, the sidewalk holds the evidence of busy days, creative ways, and all the things that children do in summertime, though not quite yet, i pull my sweater near. enjoying still the subtle chill, i get my warmth from you my dear. and as we're springtime dreamers here, i know i always will.
in form an utter contradiction, caught between boasting and contrition is just business as usual here, stuck on planet human fear. youthful innocence we can see in finger paintings bold and free, in all the songs sung loud and proud, in nature games and animal tea. the paths we walk on openly will shrink and close eventually. and so we will perform life's play as if bold actors turning grey. we'll brag and boast about our lot then shrink from ghosts and battles fought and rue the things that we were not and cling to glory and treasures we sought.
one step forward, two steps back, semi-truths and partial facts. something so sweet and something else sour, darkened clouds bring bright spring flowers. who's to say how one will wake, with dusty traces of a dream? or fresh and brilliant as stars which fell, implanted with love in the coming day's scheme? we are riddled, fat with choices, heavy, 21st century. we are drowning thoughts with voices, telephones, and batteries. saddened, deadened, stretched by hurry, unattached to quality. up a ladder, down a hill that once was a hovering green, weathered worry, sitting still in search of something in between.
open-toed eveningshoes, black and white, slender heel, powderblue, you and me, summer night, polished steel. when we ride, nights like these, i slide closer on the bench, seat is soft, air is heavy, doesn't matter what we spent. it's no object, not like us, we're an item, we're a must. it's a simple sultry story about love, about lust, about drifting with the drifters, swirling, tumbling with the singers and the fancysuited stingers, and the heady cocktail bringers, we're the lovely lonely winners all dressed up to celebrate the way that one hand holds another and another holds our fate.
love to get, love to get, love to get, love to get pushed around like a beaten horse like an empty train that has run its course, like a handful of seeds won't make it to ground, a closetful of dresses, forgotten mill town, i'm a bag of grain, a sock full of mud, a pushed around poked around, picked upon bug. i'm a loosely chewed dinner that's stuck down the drain, a sleeping bag sinner left out in the rain. give me the dregs, all the crumbs all the parts, all the empty heads, leveled minds, and frozen-shut hearts.
noone drove a car like the punk-rock superstar that you were in eighty-four, things i won't do anymore. we'd go driving after drinking, alice cooper, what a rush, ears ringing, blackmore singing, parking lots, highschool crush. i get letters, all the time, seems you're crumbling down to seed, never outgrew all the poisons, so your broken nerves just bleed. still the softened sweet words come in those loyal-letters sent from a bedroom in your parents house, where many nights are spent listening to rockandroll with a glassy-bottomed gaze, absently you pet your dog, get a bit of love you crave.
it's an alien, an alias, an alienating sense of bliss, a simple twist of fate that's come to paint your door, to have some fun. the unexpected jack of trading sets your stars and ends your waiting. it's a picnic in the park, it's a monumental spark. so set your ducks all in a row, forgive the world from head to toe. really do, for clean and bare is perfect feed for this affair. the one that came behind your back, with strength and courage, dressed in black. the one you didn't recognize, the one that came in spring's disguise.
what a voice, a crystal stream, a sign of luck, a daily dream. open and unfettered by expectations set too high. a seedling fallen without care, an infant playing unaware, a laughing limping melody, a gifted bird, a lilac tree. a deeper craving for such stores, begging, praying on all fours. please set me free, erase my past, just let me sing like that at last! like ocean water easily turning, forest branches calmly burning, like chocolate water, cherry pearls, velvet dresses, shining curls, hidden treaures, magic worlds, like every face bursts into smile, like every yearning wistful and wild.
offensive party (that's right, the big right) like warewolves in heat prowling 'round late at night. no conscience, consciousness is obslete now the mindfuck brigades are out combing the streets. newsbitches, newswhores, newszombies think wars are so necessary, it's alright if we murder, just call it helpful and restoring order. don't think about animals, rocks lakes and streams, don't worry the children have lost all their dreams. they'll stay entertained by these lasers, and phones, and deathimages pumping into their homes. you won't even have to teach them to play fair, they will learn everything from the fresh tv glare.
carved moldings smoothed by human touch, a chisel held loosely, one arm swinging. these plaster walls could say so much, the layers layered, cracking, thinning. what beauty we could build one time, years and years would pass before, the artist visioning divine, clay and stone, a pine-tree door. we manufacture cheaply now, up in ten days or less, then bury plastic, wire, and vinyl, hide the brutal mess. i wish we could go back in time, when gals wore dresses, sewn with pride, and gentlemen would hold their doors and take them riding through the streets where children play outside.
suddenly it dawns on me, all of the things i'll never see, all of the ways i'll never love, all of the things i could not prove. what a shame, this rapid end - all the fights i'd never mend, courtships shortened, missing friends, letters i could never send. wish that i had learned at last to how to take a photograph, how to lose a checkered past, learned to cry, look back and laugh. how to run through pouring rain, forgive, forget, then love again. it would have been so good to know that love wakes daily, pure as snow.
it's a honeysuckle game, it's a folly, it's a world class shame. so take a number, loaf of bread, stand in line, here's a towel and a name. how could this ship go down? how could we stumble so completely, better kneel and kiss the ground. well now, son, i'll say nobody's pointing fingers, but i'm sorry that today we'll clip your stingers, and i'll tell you most repectfully, i'll say this once most painfully, that when you pray for you and me please do it more sincerely, please do it from the heart next time around. . . . sing it again!!
cast one stone, place the poker in the fire. even a thought can be a sorry sharp wire. a challenge in humanity, to think with care and act with ease, to smooth these ripples constantly with open hearts and quaking knees. little glass houses with tiny smooth stones. how to remember that once one is thrown it won't be difficult to predict the unknown. but if these walls could stand tall in all of their glory, the ever evasive and proud human story could be one that shows that we truly have grown, could be one we happily, carefully hone.
care for that one, don't walk by, look that stranger in the eye. greet the ugly and the hurt, offer once a friendly word. take the time, two blinks one breath, listen to a brief request. touch an arm, toss a smile, sit with someone for a while. throw a penny, play a game, answer when they ask your name. you would never be the same, needed, necessary, sane. harmless, helpful, human, free, you'll be happy as can be. imagine all the city streets, a big parade, a wild procession, waving hands and dancing feet, to celebrate this brave connection.
slew of ants black and swarming, came upon them without warning, was a teaming insect city, fascinating, hardly pretty. at first drawn to this shocking sight, writhing legs and bodies, so many there, this tiny square, dark as night, adults and babies. but one thing that was plain to see, though somewhat still disarming, the sight that we historically have seen, but hardly ever see, one hundred thousand creatures working, working simultaneously, using strength incredibly, driven, focused, silently, helping their community, what a world this one could be! the ants go marching three by three, hoorah, hoorah, three cheers, yippee!
when the sun comes filtered through the heavy hotel curtain, i think of summer days from youth and how i must have felt then. i hear quite well the morning songs, each season such specific tunes, and early air is still and fair for now but will be thickened soon. so up and out, though i'll be forced to eat a bite or two, something sweet, then take bare feet outside, there is so much to do. i'll have to check the berry bushes, throw a ball against the wall, do twentyseven cartwheels, look for tiny toads, sweet and small.
worry, worry, bane, and flurry, little people sway and hurry. run and sweat and think about what might go wrong,then pause and doubt. say this mantra twenty times, leave it by the door. 'i can be much better still, i can do much more.' then off you go, don't stop to think or breathe or swallow, swim or sink. let television icons scare you, skinny skinny women dare you, taunt the very unprepared you. what you need are plastic spoons, and lots of things to fill those rooms, where clutter, noise might suffocate, run run again, your running late.
an eagle's nest, a stone's throw, a walk that takes too long to go. there's never time enough to know, there's never room enough to grow. and still it comes as no surprise, as circumstances falter, we look out through imploded eyes and tear down other altars. the dust that never settles, the wind that swirls in vain, some caught in water overhead, some people pray for rain. we look and laugh and feed our young, we love each other sweetly, we sleep and cry, we live and die, we're human, we can always try to see the world completely.
today i'll sit with my true love, nothing special planned. you see, a day of days, we'll slow it down, our wedding anniversary. i'll place a pillow in his lap, i'll lay my head there like a cat. he'll smooth my ruffled feathers down, tell me things i've not yet known. we'll be with every bird that comes delighted to our balcony, we'll catch the leaves that fall to us and think of things we'd like to see. we'll dream our dreams, i love him so, he tells me what i didn't know, takes me where i want to go.
should we try again? yes try! for every simple plan would die for real, for sure, no doubt, for certain. if there were no fallen curtain waiting to be opened up and bursting at the seams with luck, with love, and faith, and gratitude, with strength and courage, prospects who would fight until the final hour, feed water to each wilting flower. get up, stand up, say no, say yes, just say that you will do your best. every shadow's just a test, believe and we will do the rest. part the clouds, sing out loud, suffocate this haunting mess.
come on everybody! come in, the door's open. you're welcome, i'll feed you, there's cold beer somewhere. there aren't many chairs, but a bathtub to soak in, plenty of towels, and love in the air. there shouldn't be anyone out on the streets, no lonliness lingering, hard concrete sorrow, come in for one night, we'll be friends til tomorrow. we'll strip away dirt and put change in cold pockets, touch faces and kiss and trade secrets and jackets. only human hooray! only human today! come inside let your troubles be wiped clean away, and dream that you're perfectly, wonderfully safe.
found is my friend, found is perfect and grand, found will stay for a while, then move on once again. this is part of its charm and the lesson it shows, that all comfort and ease comes and goes, shrinks and grows. found is such a relief, makes me shudder and weep, when soft green comes in april, when i finally sleep. when the bus brings me home, when the alcohol hits, when bold genius falls on me in fluttering bits. my love tenderly holds me and bright tears come down, i am rich, i am lifted and fortunate, found.
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