GUEST POET
Quencher






Gods And Kings

Kurt Webb 1987

Every once in awhile
I find it hard to understand
How anyone who calls himself a king
can call himself a man

Every once in awhile
I ponder my position in life
As a man with no ambition
Like a king with no position

But who knows how it goes?

Is any king a deity?
Is any God a man?
Who is there to rescue me
From things I don't understand?

Where were you yesterday?
Are Gods and Kings at hand?
I wouldn't see you anyway
I couldn't feel to dance

Every once in awhile
As you journey through my mind
I wonder what you're doing there
I worry what you'll find
Every once in awhile
Tell me all my choices are free
Fall from gracious loyalty
God I understand.......

It's me
Mark's Game

She smiles alot, I thought too much
Her simplicity is a naive crutch
Just a shallow shadow of the she she used to be

She brings me games and makes me play
I've better things to do today
Force is for the weaker worker not a man like me

She says I love you and thinks I care
When I sleep she ties my hair
Why doesn't she just go too slow and save me from this
pain

I think it's time to stop this song

A man needs more than love
He needs a push or shove
Warped and wrapped in prayer
Wrought and wrung together
Escapes to open water
Leave his mark to slaughter
Another precious daughter
Grows without a father


Dedication: Mark Schoenle 1969-2001
Bird In The Fan

There's bird at the door
Fluttering flightlessly to obtain interest
Pounding headaches of memories made
washed down with boilermakers blade
Radical tension

There's a collision on the street
Wrenching realities from idle ear
Killing peace with warlike fractions
Windswept Achapello distractions
Timed suspension

Here's a copy of the machine
Light makes reproductive glamour
Perfect purgery from poses
Misplaced in place of perfect doses
The karma eye

Where's the conversation now?
Words on play and midnight moaning
Oh what a nice statue you are
Watch the words that pass too far
Sadistic lie

There's a contentment on my back
It has a home there, climbed up itself
Free for now from shadow's substance
Looking up without a glance
Moodless mourning





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