connecting*the*dots

a swing in the path
of an oncoming train
a down pouring rain
a love lost in vain
but what i can do is steer straight onwards and discover
that these dried up tears have coincided with another
maybe at a different time
certainly in the past
but these tears are not alone
they’re not alone, yet alas…

she is not even in my sights
yet i see her so clear
the sweetness of her voice
the purity of her tears
why is it i that must be the romantic at heart
discovering virtue one day after the part
of the role i auditioned for
has now been given up…
i’m late on the scene
she drinks from another cup

onwards and upwards is the new battle cry
but I have to ask myself the tough questions
of was it me or a simple as to why…

i’m sure i’ll move on
to find a way to survive
but a love like mine
takes root and begins to thrive
probably too much on the self
maybe just on the notion
but i’ll be damned if my love
wouldn’t cause me to sip from that shakespearian potion

alas…

gone is my muse
from which i took leave
of artistry and conviction
to discover what i believe…
how much bullshit is that?
eating nothing, yet getting fat…
the head getting cold while wearing a hat…
the D train passing without the sight of a rat…
i guess i left it up to her
to flower in her youth
to take me far beyond
the absolute & vermouth.
and i wonder why the years look so dim
i had a muse and let the slim
chance of her breath to inspire and create.
god, i deserve all that i got…
all that’s left on my plate…
so here i am
with only myself to be inspired…
hey… what a thought
how profound
i think i’m feeling wired
back with society,
or at least with the lost part of me,
i’m approaching this so gregariously
it scares me to think
of how she might feel
because there’s still a part of my muse
left up inside of me…

long lost are the days of casual
there never were…
in actual
factual
just moments of highs on low
a devastating glow
coming off as sheer talent
but it’s surely no more valiant
than the running of the bull
shit on my shoes
walking down sixth avenue
I find myself alone once more
played out to be the street whore
money on demand
a territorial errand
there I stand
lost is my soul
never once bought or sold
just a sight to behold
for when I turn over another leaf
it will be strong with my belief
or so the song goes
dancing on the tips of my toes
how ripe the story goes…
time only knows

society breeds the open wounds
digging in to conquer tunes
of nature and beauty
but somehow you must move me
with those classic ads
cyclical campaigns
now i’m all caught up in your brain
a participant in the game

what am i to do?
when my existance become more than one, but two?

one is who i am in my heart
allowing me to stand tall and part my hair if i need to see
all that surrounds the essence of me.
but the second is profoundly another
like a long lost distant brother
a slave to this society
a direct contradiction to me

contempt comes from where we stand
and how we fall
the nature of moving forward
the gift of standing tall

standing tall…
for what?
have we just overlooked the gluttony of our american history?
oh, wait, i’m sorry that would be "society"
where everything is hyped and nothing is for free

outbreak

the dawn comes anew
glistening off of the supple waves
her eyes are now setting
in some distant land
and the cool air of the evening mist
is reflected in the morning sky

equilibrium

as the sun rises
it hides itself even further
beyond mountains
and plains
and mysterious waves
the sun is in sync
but the difference is measured wide
blue for one
the other green eyed
yet the sun is in sync
how can that be?

rejuvenation

distant thoughts
in separate worlds
travel instantaneously
love amiss
love dismissed
far from the same
central to the abyss
souls heal
while others feel for a taste
of misguided hate
a residue of fate
once concealed
the sun has set
it has gotten late