There’s a dark shadow now

There’s a dark shadow now

How could it be light?

That’d be too quirky for my sensibilities

Too odd, too queer for my damn sensibilities

Sorry but

It could have been light enough

For me now

I’d been open for a lightening up

all facades are falling fast

Were just dropped right in front of me

Like a brown tablecloth, I mean it

What do my own family of archetypes

Symbolize this final road?

‘Till they dark out, something beautiful

M

There’s a horn somewhere on this flight

In my head, no my headphones

Yr latest trick, they’re all on the high wire

And it never really shows, nobody knows

I’m the one that might benefit

It’s dark outside, for the both of us

And I should have took you at your word

You nodded at my awkward overture

I thought then 2nd thoughts

But I followed you in the dark

& caught up to you at the door where you boarded

And your manager I guess

Threw a fit, and closed me off

Knowing what we were up to.

I knew you were deaf when you

Showed me how you acquiesced

I guess it might have been one way

To avoid the peculiarities of the law

If you can’t and don’t ask me

And don’t tell me how much

I was so lonely but I ran from

All that excitement

And back into the dark

And not my dark memory until now

Coalesce

The tumbling can coalesque to an enlightening

The tumbling can coalesce to an enlightening

But, only when the spin is less sickening

I’ll pray for some stop

I can pray two and for a leveling

I’ll pray to stop, to an enlightening

I’ll whirling dervish

This turbulence. When I settle

The sick spin to a level

I’ll stay on to an enlightening

Should God bless a coalescence

Inside some tumble

I stay,despite all wisdom,inside some tumble

I’m at a loss, to motion all my maneuvers, and of words

And I’m on borrowed land

Where I house my headquarters

Tho’ I can break camp at short notice

Tonight I have no Wilde wit

But I have learned from drive-in movies

When they finally lost your scent

It’s time to make around

& it’s this distance

That I bet can send me free

Sturm und drang me

They oughta take rope and hang me

Not less distracting these twisted storms

But more Thor-thunder, & fresh wind so wild

Yr better off inside

Yr probably better off whirling in place

At our bay window

Looking out on the lawn

The storms have us taking a step back

Away from the hubbub

To momentarily say less, think less

& plan very short term

We’ll ignore the music in the room

& step back, both hard to do

But another cry for help

I might fast valve some relief

“everybody says I’m a master of technique but the style and the sentiment is weak”. -Todd Rundgren, from “There goes my inspiration”

It’s by way of a cliche’

But if I shook my tight right fist right at the heavens, and shouted

“Damn yr eyes, all yous guys”

I might laugh,. a salvage laugh

I might fast valve some relief

I might release enough of the roughage

That I might see to myself to see straight

I’m a dismal miasma of misery

I’m simple as a toadstool yet

Flustered as a stock market’s complicated crash

Busted down to private, paring knife & bucket

I’m never getting out of here

God, rid me of this rash

As I’ll have it

A guiding impetus

“Any idiot can face a crisis; it’s this day-to- day living that wears you out” Anton Chekhov

‘

Along with a tender concern to her way,

It must only be seeing just one foot ahead of the other

Along with prayers, I guess, to her way

I’ll work to focus as I’ll have it,

& in another, I’ll bite back,

I’ll choose to choke off the upcoming doubts

Swallow back (He certainly meant) an indolent wave of the hand

Besides, who else feels to notice the ache of that kind of silence, and

While he moves He has a sense

Of burning covered bridges, then

One foot ahead of the other

Mercy

An easy air/made up just for me

Mercy

Made up just for me

An easy air

Made up just by me

The easy chair

Not a painted pony

I might dare

To jump in

A carousel that can only

Join my spin

As I join exalted faces

On a ride to lift me off

From Dread and all its traces

Mercy

Made up just for me

An easy air

Meet up just by me

Just early, or late enough

For the days light to go magic

Just early, or late enough

For the days light to go magic

Hypnogogic can mean that imagery

1) just as one awakens

2) also when just as one’s consciousness slips

And eyelids darken it all

Dreams may come too quick and early

As one drifts off, their day

Or they may linger on like the ringing

Of the bells in their belfries, their peal,

As one drifts on to their day

Hypnogogic can mean that imagery

Hallucinations, All you follow

Scrying in surrender

The wind gusting did it as well

Holding the state

From “The old Orphan”, Charles Simic (r.i.p)

“The sparrows in the gutter knew you

And hopped out of your way

The trash being blown about

By the wind gusting did as well.

A few scenes from your life

Were about to be performed

By a puppet theater in the park

When it started to rain hard,

Making the great trees panic

Along with mothers and children,

Who ran shrieking for cover

Wherever they could find it…”

-Simic

I stood

Sliding, surrounded, still, but wind

It’s nearly 2 directions

Birds are everywhere

It’s anything but quiet here

It’s a nonsense, I guess

A chore to conceive

And hold this stage actually

It’s an odd thing worth realizing

It’s a POV. Concentrate.

One beer than another until they’re gone

Thom Yorke tries out accelerated heartbeats heartbeats

Chiming new chapters off,

Worth perusing pursuing, off,

Until I might sleep

1 foot then another

I could make my way

And hold this state, actually

The birds are getting on my nerves

“