September 2009

You’re not the child you thought you were
You wake up in the night
And know you’re blind
And yet they keep on pushing
Trying the insides of your mind
Forever…forever arresting to control
Until the emptiness of heaven
Welcomes your weary soul

‘Your Saving Grace’
S. Miller


Winter’s people watching
as I sail from season’s four
to join some crazy ladies
in a game upon the shore
None of them with broken wings
but still refuse to fly
so with sweetness on my lips
I smile a last goodbye

Crossed ideas & twisted fear
Chosen channels of a million tears
Strains the mind night after night
And the price ain’t really right

Snake oils on the boil
And the master pitch is in a coil

They once had a code & they called it Morse
And it could not stop the flying horse

(R. Danko)

Be born again my friend–won’t you sign in stranger?

You should know
How all the pros play the game
You change your name

Later on, chair beside a window, staring at the
cellophane–living in a moon so blue–modern
dances follow your footsteps. You walk alone…this
narrow road…on the way–the living end. Somebody
in the snow? Blue corpse, one foot in the North, twelfth
apostle, graven image–lost cause–glad to get
away! I woke up…new town…the beginning…

For God’s sake let’s sit upon the ground
and tell sad tales of the death of kings
riding to their doom in a long black limosine

Maybe it’s all for the better
Maybe it’s all for the best
says the man with the open umbrella
to the girl in the polka-dot dress

You better get your story straight together
A lapidary pyramid of lies
Burned into the memory forever
Stations of the crossfire in disguise

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