Yeah, I Listened

I listened when they told me--
     "None of this has consequence"
And I listened when they said
     "Son, ideals won't keep you warm."
And I listened, yeah, I listened
     to, "Just worry about your plate."

I listened well.
I listened well.

I listened well to advice
Which struck me pragmatic and sound
I heeded when they told me
     "Feet are safer on the ground"
I listened--closely listened
Seems I'm listening even now.

I listened when they told me,
     "Kiddo, miracles are dead.
It's only grass and sky and clouds and sun--
Live your days out in yoru head."

I listened then
I sit here, now.

Always depleting
Never filling

And I wonder...

I heard them when they taught me--
     Nothing matters but your lot
And listened as these lessons
Opened wounds that wouldn't clot
          within
     the bodies of all hopes
And doused the energies of
          hearts around the species

And, now, I wonder
still, inert here; leering at the wall

I wonder...
"I've listened so damn well,
     can I still wonder at all?"

Quoted Price

Gulping down 6 cups of coffee
On a 4 hour drive
And it's a guzzled tank of gasoline;
A quoted price on time
                spent
To whip a froth on memories
And put your thoughts on ice

               "Man,
It's larger drinks and longer lines
Of yellow painted warning signs,"
              I said while running empty
As you coasted in on fumes

"Nah you see it's just the finish line's
An unexploded, aging mine
And we don't have a map.
              Shit."

Guzzling down a cup of coffee
And another tank of gasoline
A quoted price on time spent
Says, "Buddy, time ain't cheap."
             Shit.

Horizon Outruns

A silent man sits encircled--
     embraced by summer storms' arms.
And all alone he ages
Seething soft beneath the sample size

The size of smallness grows tense
And waxing tension swells against the wall
     And there--at the center--
   storm sprayed and stretched too thin
   a few too many times for reformation
Our silent man sings quiet
While his will and wallet bleed--
          still freshly somehow.

Accelerate and amplify--
Caught and swept along on currents
that so often outstrip the soundest plans
...a treasure lies at bare arms' reach
but only mind might stretch
when arms, encircled by storms
   (that always do overtake)
Can only reach down to clamp his knocking knees

Beside the bed
his dapper, ever-present devil dabs
     his always bead-soaked brow,
     each night keeping venomous vigil...

A silent man sits encircled
Entangled in summer storms' arms
Which, as always, overtook him.
And, by the way, he wonders indeed
if he just didn't run rapidly enough.
Yet all alone he ages--
--overpowered and pinned
   by the smallness of the sample size...

Loose Tie

Snakebit Sunday nights
            Full of cobra fang pints,
Like off-rhymed lines
Or undercooked rice,
take awhile to pile up
but taste like nosebleeds or pennies
halfway through Monday

And it's not always a bad thing...

So bring the bees in your bonnet
        When you come to play dice

But, if the spirit is with you
Just loosen its tie
And hold your misgivings down tight.

The ride won't be rough,
But it might get surreal.
Sealed lips won't sink you, though.

Up the ante, charm the snakes
And sup on sterile rumors
       'til the talk starts to abate

Calm Rationale

She's got no need for nostalgia:
tossing bricks through bodega windows
           is only a diversion--
An assessment, anyway--the bright side:

It's easier to get in now--accessible
And old men's ghost stories go
          wailing out the window
         and drift right up to her doorstep
       on nighs she doesn't even want to leave
And, hey--it could be a catchy gimmick
        (if admittedly kitsch)
"The Hole-in-the-Window Hole in the Wall"
         Call it local color...
Too highbrow and hot in there, anyhow
       (before the brick)

And what's a window anyway,
 but a hole with some glass over it?

Anchors Away

Somewhere by the airport
Someone like an old friend
     Exhales into the night time
A foggy line to trace the outline
     of the crackling winter skyline
Which will likely meet with my line
     that I exhaled by the old high school
     while gazing out Northeast

And snowdrops work their way down
Through the pocked, decaying night sky
     But the roots below the roadlines
That were laid down by our forebears
     begin to shake a dusting on
Our slowly hazing heads

And the maps divorce their meanings
While the rats leap in the drink
And those roots release their moorings
     for to favor freezing night

So while the city soundly sleeps
     so too it does disintegrate
And shreiks a silent death knell
Back behind its dimming lights

So I think that I must tell you
--though my mouth fills up with foamy words
   all dying in my throat--
     if your heart is still all tissue
     and stubbornly still beats...

...Congratulations.

Kid's Mad, See?

Hey, kid! What's new!?
How long has it been since you got disillusioned
     And checked
     Your grin
At the door where you still paid to get in?

In another sub-par year,
Will you still be here?
Wondering what became of what you used to love

We all come back
     Each time, each night, with flush faced wishes
And you come back
     To sit alone and drink while bitchin'
Every night still goes down smooth here
But "it got awful..."
So why not just leave?

Hey, kid! What say?
How long ago'd you throw the towel in
     And check
     Your grin
At the door where you still payed to get in?

In another sub-par year
Will you still be here
Hating everything that we still really love?