How is all of the magic
Of an embrace
Worn away by the Idleness
Of passing from place to place
With the day to day
All we can say
Is come what may
What for
What for
The sound of nails in the coffin
is
What for
What forPremetaurely entombed
In lily garlands
Of pallidAcceptance of
This here and
No moreI still recall sweetly
How the light caught the waterAnd how very neatly
The sun kissed her daughterIn the fading limelight
To mark a brief passing
Amid dreams, time, and our dancing bones
Skeletal frame
Made quick by live dust
Yet we don’t erect stonesWe no longer trust
In kisses
Or passion
Such fleecesAre quiet out of fashion
Ah but why
What for
What for
That’s the mystery most high
What
What for
The coffin’s not even nigh
No
It is here
We’re in it my dear
Before our time
Because the magic slipped out
We’d found a strong rhythm a stolid old rhyme
We kept to the beat
Cause that’s what strength is about
Yet we no longer greetThe morning with a great expectation
In our rehearsed caressThere is no elation
I no longer see homeWhen your foot slips from under your dress
What for
What for
I have seen a vast garland
Stretching from aeons
In shadow in light…gazing upon your delicate hand…
It gave my spirit fightA sense of place in time’s sand
Yet now all I hear
Is yes, o yes dearEach repetition is a hammer that cries ‘pon the nail
What for
What for
I’d try to see if there’s more for you or for me
But I’ve got a luncheon with Mr. O’ clock around FourWill we ever find the door:
…Again…The door
To no more
No more:
What for
What for…
No more
Tag: lyrics
Delight, Delight (Demo)
I came up with the main lyrical idea years ago. Round 2011 or so while on a hike.
Apologies for the strained vocals. I’m not a natural singer and it takes some serious concentration to do the dirty deed. As such it does come out a tad eh…
I’ve no need for apathy
For I’m in love with light
Among
Branches of a tree
and how…
That dancing symmetry
On wings of evenings breeze
With such delightful ease
Is carried as a prayer
To heaven
Which is not so very far
From where you are
When only you
Deign recall the difference
Between great and small
Is not a difference
At all
ouh! ouh! Ouh x 2
I merge into the blue
Into the grand cascade
Here within this glade
The silvery tongues they sing to me
Lilting calling melody
A prosody
A novel in each crisp
Snapping of a branch
Though a chill rain it does drench
I love this place
I need this place
I will forever
Retrace the ever
Onward
One word
Delight, Delight
Transmission (Poem)
It turns you
Into city visions
Your eyes become
Kaleidoscopes
Of other peoples
Dreams
Daze-ed is the walk of those
Among the walls that talk
They cannot separate
The lead out from the chorus
Thus feeding on frustrate
That ether
They are static things
Electric buzzing
In the maelstrom
Of soft white lies
And forgotten histories
What use have we for arcane
Magic
Or for symmetry
Such things are daft and tragic
Leave us be
There is no need of learning
Save to secure
The turning of a gear
That will assure
Tomorrow
They don’t know why
And do not sorrow
That tomorrow
Is today
Transmission
The transmission
It’s a mission to deliver
Deaf, Blind, and Dumb
Transmission, Transmission
This banquet is just a crumb
Wheat (Poem)
Laying plastered in the sunshine
Like stucco the memories
A bit wheat colored like
Wheat colored grass
By a train station
Where the wind
Rusticating in the sunshine
And prostrating
The illusion of procession
Laying down an iron line
Clock wound nerves
Meld into the space
Of action
Keeping catatonic
Any actor from arising
Something chronic
Oh… ouh… Oh
On the Parapet
Oh… ouh… Oh
On the Parapet
Some have accused
Of regret
The dreamers
They would
rather have them
As confidants and schemers
Ah to build is sweet
But is there nothing to repair
And I dare say the tracks that greet
Me on a Moscow morning
With dewy tears of bright tomorrow’s wishful air
More like despair
All the little sparrows
Drink the dew
And in the narrows
Of every avenue
The indie yard brigade
Will make bread yet
From seeds of wheat
That dreams have set
In minds of those who meet
The stucco memories
And lay rusticating by the tracks to outpace
The useless hurries
To build in time to finish race
Is best done at wheat’s sweet golden time
Growing of its own accord
Doesn’t trouble overmuch with plot and word
No accounting no how shall I afford
Sucrease isn’t business but life’s way
Recognizing…
Thus clothes the earth in grain
Again…. Again….Again…
Without a Name (‘Song’)
Or rather an amateur attempt to set a poem to music.
in my Corridors
Had a friend over last something or other. He complained about the spiders. I have his laptop. Had a techie friend of mine put Mint on it.
This is the first text file on the visitors new operating system. I suppose I’ll file it under poems.
Please excuse the spiders in my corridors
I keep them to catch real flies
Cause I can’t catch my thoughts
All the little lies
Crawl round my head floor
Crowded million mildewed feet
Keep me from the door
Yea and I’d be dead from the insects
If I didn’t have spiders
Like regrets
To eat up all the scattered scurryings
Of the faint and flitting things with translucent wings
Please excuse the spiders in my corridors
You may think it sick
But see how clean my drawers
Its my favorite trick
With full eight legged precision
We weave our checkered tablecloth
This is the decision
Here there is no sloth
Though it may appear so lazy
There is no madness in the method
I’m not crazy
I clean with silk
These halls are fit for God
Are you of higher ilk?
Please excuse the spiders in my corridors
I was in India
For a summer or maybe more
Then Came the spinners
From mills in Lydia
Passed beneath my door
Now I admit some guests
One of whom is you
But such requests
If I were to speak true
I can’t fulfill
If you feel ill
All I can offer is pray…
Please excuse the spiders in my corridors
The Fractal Journal 