On: Mendelssohn Sinfonia No. 11

poetry

life at one’s leisure
is a solitary achievement
a lonely achievement
but one must sacrifice such
things for freedom
but one must sacrifice those
things in name of honor
and all the things accompanying
those company
those company
that drive you wild, wild
wild wild,
wild with anger and distain

but on this beautiful day
but on this beautiful evening
i will cut the strings that
bind my soul and keep me bonded
i will get to the bottom
bottom
bottom
bottom
bottom of this entire thing.

the paper cut man

poetry

the light came
he left the house
creaks and leaks following him
scared to her eye balls,
his wife pinned a halo on his hair
hoping to turn him into a better man
the run down city leapt through him
he flew away over the old railroad tracks
thinking, “am I right, am I alright?”

Unexpected

poetry

There’s a bunch of people
in a restaurant, at a booth,
and they’ve all got instruments
which is not so strange, considering.

Except they’ve got the instruments
out of cases, with a pair of songbooks
and a jar for tips. Not so strange
except the restaurant doesn’t quite
usually field musical acts.

But they’re playing.

And the woman in the booth across
is lounging, with her head against her
hands, and a mask of absolute defeat
covering her rather lovely face

Well, the waitress stops and asks
her for he order, with a smile, and
the woman quietly answers all the
questions, including “Is there something
wrong?” Of course there is. Her
car broke down. it’s been a long
damn day.

But they’re playing

While the woman sits, she
listens to the music from the booth
across, and slowly, her mask works
it’s way loose, but just a bit.

So, she gets a bit more comfortable,
eyes closed and facing the ceiling
as the songs she never thought she’d
hear at this hour, in this place,
wash over her and everyone until
her mask slips finally.

Do you know any Tom Petty?
of course they do, they say.
So they both flip through their songbooks
and the woman smiles thoughtfully
and all is not right with the world,
but the bits that aren’t don’t matter
so much right now.

Oh, and they’re playing.

oh but freaky sometimes…

poetry

joy and overwhelming satisfaction
fill most of my hours
but sometimes after a dinner with too much
cream or perhaps it’s related to whiskey
following beer i’ll

lay front back front back side side front
roll roll roll
quiver quiver shake and wonder

how can i fear when i cannot focus?
what am i fearing that i cannot even pin down?

the panic can overcome me powerfully

coke helps