Pear-shaped apples in the spring.
Not a day too soon, or so I thought.
But no. Non-contendre, I plead that at least.
When the winter can still be protected against with fleece.
Still the winter inside lasts longer than all the years,
All the friends, all the cheers, and curses, and damns, and all the friends.
And first to go one loses their friends.
We are all fair-weather,
In one way or another,
We can’t be bothered,
We can’t be stoned,
We can’t be talked,
Nor be dethroned.
We can’t stand on two feet,
We won’t stand on one,
But assuredly we know we could,
So long as we mustn’t prove it.
And of course we can’t prove it.
Bored. Bored. Bored.
That is the platter we carry our horse-heads on.
We should be plastered, we should be mounted.
Safely, there aren’t many things between you and I.
Unsafely. . .
There’s nothing between you and I.
Not a sliver of trash, glass, parades, charades.
Nothing I care to enter or exit
From or toward. To and fro.
My god, peoples’ ideas are becoming overwhelming,
They stretch across paths like spider webs
But like silk are too strong and not strong enough at the same time.
There are so damn many paths.
So many that turn out to be like tributaries,
Into larger paths,
Until a soft pattering of feet rustling fallen leaves,
Turns into a stomp to rival the running of the bulls.
That’s what I say anyway.
That’s what I said.
Now I’m saying this, and that, then this again.
‘Til every turn I make becomes a new forest,
Full to the brim of paths not worth taking, yet intangible to imagine.
At least until I take them, then I know what I knew.
And what I know becomes this from that,
Except it was always this.
Then we realize that human nature was always thus,
Even in the face of this.
It seems so different now, from what it was,
What it seemed to be,
What we deemed it to be,
Where we spread our will and overfilled.
And stained the bloodstream and all it’s tributaries.
And now we all run on the same blood,
Inbred beyond all differences.
There is no future for the sake of the future,
If you consider the future a trillion years from yesterday,
If you do so then your long term goals must seem unrealistic.
At least to others, but reiterated:
There are no need for crowds,
For they are the vestals that drive our collective group think.
Then destroy thought.
Hell, the important people are at it again.
Hell, we are at it again.
I guess it makes no marks where I carve into the tree.
Whether your name faces you or me,
Or somewhere that we don’t look, can’t see?
Interesting, that I made a sand castle for you,
For you were the waves, the tide.
And everything I did came crashing down around me.
Then you took it back, piece by piece and grain by grain.
I don’t even know if I tried again.
I just don’t know.
Would I, should I?
Will what you want.
Then take it back again,
There aren’t any piano keys
Or damned boards sticking with splinters.
There is only you, then me, but you first as it always should be.
Left me in a Mexican town,
Where everything’s cheap,
And I drink tequila all day,
But I’m missing something(someone).
With apologies to A. Rae,
My unforgivable trespasses, I wish I could take back.
Lust in the eve, when shoulders each take a bumping leave.
My apologies aren’t good, they don’t make up for the things I’ve said.
I’ve said terrible things.
Sentences that make me wish I were dead.
Then when I do lie still, I’m glad I’m not.
And I’m glad that I’ve no time to rot
For sleep rests, a fickle thing,
A trifle in the morn.
When awake you rest and dream of sleep,
And in sleep you rest and dream.
Creeping every time I shred a word,
Shivering in each second of the world.
Got me sweating in the cold night’s grip,
Maybe it’s just the fleeting hipster quip.
But lightning bolts shoot down my street.
I cannot walk.
The angel-headed hipster has my teeth.
I cannot talk.
I threw my skepticism into the sea.
I cannot balk.
But I make you a place to sit beside me.
We’re not like them all.
We’re not like them at all.
You and I are not like each other,
And then again we are.
When naivety dances to bird song flourishes,
Then rhythm makes for the anthem.
When we’ve no need to speak of each other,
Then of you I will not speak.
When you think I pen in jest at you,
I pen at no one in particular.
And everyone who thinks that their name ought to title this ramble,
Shall be proven wrong. And that is none but the truth.
So many could’ve claimed a title,
But none tip-toed around the coconut tree.
And shaken was the husk,
We smacked the tops against a rock,
And tranquility was within.
But we’re leaving tranquility behind,
From the fields of lone trees,
And the lightning stricken mask,
Where dirt was lucky enough to turn to sand,
And we left a broken trail.
We leave tranquility
For the husks of campgrounds,
Where natives loved and fought.
We leave tranquility
For the springs borne of waterfalls,
And risk life to scale its face.
We left the tranquil
So they may meditate,
On things we dare not ponder.
We leave the places in which we were seated,
So no roots root us to the ground.
We take tranquility where our seeds are sowed
To leave it, for we have many miles to go,
And dusk is approaching faster than we think,
We have many miles, no places to sink.
We still risk all, with seeds to sow,
For there are many footsteps left and so many miles yet.
Rest now. And leave what you know behind.