Friday, March 15, 2013

Songs of the not so innocent

1: intro

The songs we hear inside our heads
Are not the ones we take to bed
That long, long night we take for dead
And early morning we always dread
Sing to me of hope instead
When we our night gowns we can shed

2: The shepherd

She seeks them out as if to say
They will always make her day
If they help her find her way
Before alas she casts them away

3: Evergreen

When the green grows
Thick around my feet
I know a time will come
When I will meet
When I shall lie
With earth spread over me
Like a sheet

4: Lamb

The sheep look up
My best friend said
From a song caught
In his head
No lamb of god
From a book he read
But a chop upon
His plate instead

5: beasts

The beasts of the southern wild rise
The flash of film before my eyes
As waters climb up high
And sun bakes from the sky
I think of all that’s in your eyes
When the storm brings floods up to my thighs
And hope that I might compromise
And breathe out more
Than just a sigh

6: The blossom

I hear the sparrow before it sees me
Feathered beast clutching its sea
Of green, fluttering in its constant chill
The cold, cold ice thawing still
Ahead of the riding thrill of spring
I always wait for blossoms to bring
For winter’s chill to finally fade
And the bones that ache like new remade
Will it ever come to my abode
Only the little sparrow knows

7: Weep weep

Weep, weep through halls I creep
Sneakers squeaking as I sneak
Weep, weep, my mother I seek,
Mad as a hatter leaving me alone,
No father to find me or call my own,
Weep, weep, this halls I still creep,
In cavernous shadows where I seek,
No coal in my hair to turn my hair black,
No crows on my shoulders, no claws in my back
Weep, weep

8: little boy

My daddy left me when I was three
After he had come back from the sea
And I feel so lost now that he
Wanted to be rid of me
I found him later when I grew old
A man, a memory I could not hold
Hard of heart and cold as stone

9: Cradle

Non stop shop
In this hopscotch
Lollypop stopover
On top or bottom
Upside or down,
Inside, outside
All around
Each move
Feeling of eternity

10: Divine image

I pretend I want one thing
When I really want something else
The look in the dark
That people read in me
When it’s not at all
What I’m thinking,
Long passed desire for fame
Or even infamy,
I settle for love
That seed born out of lust
To linger and age
Like old wine into something
Much more magnificent
Than anything imagined
Not dream look down
Low cut blouse
Or up high hemmed skirt
But the burning perpetual
Candle on the altar of lust
Upon which sacrifices are made,
The stained silver dagger still dripping
From a wound still raw and red,
Love beyond the valentine’s day heart,
But a stab in the dark,
Pain raised out of pleasure,
Made more intense
After the gush of blood has ceased
Lingering, blissful
Even when it hurts

11: Holy Thursday

It is this day above all I recall
Not the day the cross is raised
or the prophet falls
but the calm day before
the dawn in the garden
before the balm is on his garments
this day each year when winter falls
when the girl I love runs down the hall
to linger and fall for charms of another man
this day when Peter does not pay Paul
and denies he knew his lord at all
and lets the others fall to sleep
while the man, the lamb led like sheep,
this terrible night in this utterly dark wood
when we look for light as we should
and wait for morning’s shroud of thorn
we beg to pass before the morn,
to drink this bitter wine again
to take us back to what was when
love was just an innocent bliss
when all we wanted was just a kiss
that’s what this day makes me most miss
what the stirring masses do not strive for,
or for food that comes not from above
but let's us feed on what is love
and the whole time know it’s not enough,
and on this day before the cross is hung
and all the mournful songs are sung,
when when was when we can’t get back
to what it was we thought we lacked.

12:  Night

The wind howls
outside my window
As I wake,
Stirred out of deep sleep
By still deeper dreams
I barely recall
The fading images of
Something still
Lingering in my head,
The scent of lavender
Clings to me as I shift
My limbs from under
These sheets,
Static crackling
From the huff and puff
Of a long night’s labor,
A touch of tenderness
The panic of pleasing pain
All bleached out of
My consciousness
By the stark streams of day
Drowned out by the drone
Of everyday,
But still lingering
In the corners of my mind,
A shadow, a tang
A tantalizing tingle
A soft kiss on my
Still moist cheek,
The feel of it around me,
Over me, under me,
Inside and out,
The hurt and promise
Of what might be again
When sleep seizes me
Once more

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