That heart of gold I was searching for
Has passed me, bye, and found an ending elsewhere;
Chasing the sunset and the final mystery—
Grow old, die, who’s gonna cry or care?
Finest wines and vines splendid,
My only lasting loving friends.
[We’ve] some trouble down there,
With no lover to share these bends.
Harvest some words for this one empty page,
Everyone else out there chasing the latest rage.
Don’t tumble much dice, do you?
Crimes of passion outweigh the ones of neglect.
Maybe I never ought to have learned
That most things in life we all can cathect.
Refill the goblet and wipe the counter—
Whimsical droplets tell their own tale;
But you came for something more eclectic,
Not this wheeze with no secret to entail.
Grow the rhymes to fill up the charm;
Empty is as empty does, what’s the harm?
Catering to hearts promise-given to another;
Forgiving Alabama and Neil Young, now so old;
Like I said, dropped my heart of gold, sure as not—
Such an old story the young won’t hear when told.
Finest vines give wines so splendid—
My only lasting loving friends.
Born in the 50’s and so damn sure:
Wish I’d found that love they say never ends.
Shouldna kissed her fast
Shouldna thrown that glass
Shouldna taken the road less traveled
Shouldna known to let it all pass
Shouldna went along
Shouldna stayed up all night
Shouldna trusted to chance
Shouldna let her pass from all sight
Shouldna made my point
Shouldna made it hard stick
Shouldna thought it’d all work out
Shouldna been quite so dammed thick
Shouldna trusted to luck
Shouldna gone to ground
Shouldna flown to LA
Shouldna left the lost and found
Shouldna quit my job
Shouldna ever let her go
Shouldna mustered out
Shouldna did so much blow
Shouldna listened to the gods
Shouldna listen to the Oh So Wise
Shouldna left New Orleans
Shouldna slammed shut both my eyes
Shouldna been born when I was
Shouldna believed in the mardi gras
Shouldna drown in the sorrow
Shouldna disbelieve in the power of tomorrow
No one sees me there;
Yes I’m invisible;
They can’t know how I hurt or that I care.
No I’m invisible,
Everyone can see right thru;
Just a wisp in the periphery
Lingering in shades of blue.
Are you invisible?
Where can you be?
Are you lonely too?
Would you like to get lost with me?
I am so invisible,
No one knows how if I care;
All can’t help but look on thru
As I fade away into the thinning Summer air.
Several paces past
The beginning and the end,
Comes the space wherein
We like to try it all over again;
Unsay that awful
Which was sorely said;
Get up earlier
And make the stupid bed.
Say goodbye later
And just hang a minute more or two;
Maybe life could be better,
Not this evermore darkening in blue.
Leavening choices cast
Between the close and over there,
We can render a space therein
We can go for the Happy rather than old soggy despair.
Yes, I do agree!
No, that doesn’t make you fat!
Please, of course I’ll wait for you—
You like me? Well, imagine that!
Two lapsed Catholics
Sitting neath the tree
Contemplating the meaning
First comes Doubt,
Followed by Despair,
Then they’re closing down all the bars
Because they just don’t…
Give a rat’s rear end anymore.
And we again despair;
All point their fingers
And again getting nowhere.
Find the crux of the matter;
The gun is not to blame:
Babe Ruth was the mighty batter—
But it’s not the bat that goes in the Hall of Fame.
‘That place… is strong with the dark side of the Force…
In you must go. ‘
Broken minds untethered
When will we ever know?
The Mind: an ugly, evanescent thing:
Thoughts! Feelings! Emotions! Cognitions!
Better to leave alone;
O, leave me with my superstitions.
Until we get past this stupid fear,
That leads to anger and such undying pain,
To bring mental illness out of the shadows,
It’ll be Columbine, Sandy Hook, Roseburg, again and again and again and…
Clad in regret
And coif’ed in despair,
Another day has passed—
You, uncalled by the phone by the chair.
Cobwebs adorn all
My old dreams forlorn;
The rains did fall,
And refreshed, the pasture of the lost awaits the morn.
A candle mocking—
Here, the only flame that burns
Lights a keyboard click clocking.
Poet bent double,
Love in reverse.
Is the regret or the rhyme
Which tarries for the worse?
Where to go from here?
Leaving my Sri Lanka,
Who’ll even shed a tear?
Slow down, heart slow down,
Lie down near any door.
My stupid, cowardly, selfish heart
Wouldn’t take anymore.
How’s it gonna be
When I’m not there?
Another wrong answer—
Illiterati of Ferguson won’t care.
Show me the way
Out of this miserable box.
When the manse’s master died
Did they really stop all the clocks?
Slow down, heart slow down:
“He was nice, I guess.”
Just another lowly clown.