| Not Enough Of A Poet you demand so much that I can�t give you want words that I can�t speak you expect Keats to praise your worth you want the drug of a poem so deep words that make the pain subside and the roses bloom with the morning light I can�t give you this, you know I can�t, but you know I�ll try again tonight. Barcelona every now and then I cross paths with a bottle of whiskey like a magnum shot, what I forgot comes back to haunt me what I�d spent so long trying to leave comes back around and beats me down we cross paths in my drunken dreams and we�re back in the world we�ll never know we are so far away from the love that blew our minds we can�t fight the past so we�ll just leave it behind it seems so inviting, but it�ll leave me dead reminiscing of better times when a smile meant more to me than anything, though it could never last a while by now I know by heart the beast that lurks beneath these fanciful scenes we joke about it a little but we�re so afraid of what it really means we are so far away from the world that blew our minds we can�t fight the past so we�ll just leave it behind every now and then I might fall back into the dream once in a while I find myself calling your name our minds are one for half a moment and somewhere, you�re drinking to me what I�ve spent half my life trying to leave behind is flooding back over me I pass the night half-awake and rambling in my sorry state conversations we never did finish now seem such a shame to to have wasted can�t leave this half-formed utopia hanging by a whiskey thread but there�s no end to these hallucinations as I lie awake in bed� we are so far away from the days that blew our minds we can�t fight the past, I see at last, so we�ll just leave it all behind. Pohnpei Your gift is fleeting; your tears are my blood your broken heart, my legacy, I know I left so much unsaid in my hasty retreat, but you have to understand my position; your gift was my curse, your tears were my terror, your dreams were my nightmares and your fingers so cold to the touch were my fire. Once in a while, I might return to those nights when a world stood still just so you could count every star in the night sky before morning came, before you fell asleep with the rising sun and drowned in the rising tides, your spirit to wander across the waves for all time. These oceans unforgiving, these rivers so deep, these tears so openly wept (no concern; weep these tears, and the world will join in a melancholic chorus) call you home, to a place where the lions wait hungry at your feet for anything you can leave behind on which the starving beasts shall feast. Once in a while, I might trouble myself with echoes of a past I don�t care to revisit You leave the doors wide open, and your scent is carried on the wind I can�t help but walk amongst the ruins of what was once such an empire, it ruled our hearts and minds (yours & mine) now, the fading halos beyond the sunset, the last one we ever saw together, come climbing with the rising tides I can�t see the moonlight for the stars I only feel a little lost because we�ve never come this far. Lesser Men Lesser men know where the jet stream goes where it carries the dreams of a nation eastward flowing, eastward running into the sunrise over the Atlantic. Lesser men know, through ice and snow in such an intellectual climate, where the resting place of broken hearts meets the gentle southern winds. Lesser men know where freight trains slow to salute the fallen soldiers where on a hilltop in memoriam stand two immovable boulders, they tell stories of the glory and the anguish they have presided over. Lesser men know where blood has flowed in the fields of gold where the wheat stands high and in the evening sunlight a voice whispers hymns for those crying at the end of their lies Lesser men have written eulogies for false saviours who wrote poems Lesser men have walked a mile to reach heaven on their own. Back To The Big Easy Land of the free The legend will outlive you You gotta wonder �bout these easy men They�ll leave you as they found you Home of the brave Like an avalanche it falls Around you, skirting the parentheses Of the sentence they hold a treasured secret, Words that won�t live to meet the dawn, And you with them. They�ll meet you wherever the sun breaks last, In a valley �neath mountain white and cold Who speaks neither of his invincibility through times to come, Nor his broken homes of the past. |