Easy Now Big Fella

Oh to have such vanity
That one proclaims his sanity
Those who think themselves sane
Have failed to heed their brain
Seeming sensible and smart
Shows a lack of heart
Better to muddle and stagger
Then to believe your own swagger

Atheist

God was chasing me
I looked back and yelled: you'll never take alive
We had a good laugh
Over that one
The great invisible man in the sky
White flowing beard and nasty temper
Has been silent most of my days
Riffing quizzically I wonder
If there he is or there he isn't
At all
Had my doubts
Have my doubts
Our shared laughter notwithstanding
Grandstanding

It Would Be Nice

It would be nice to think I could do something right for a change
That I could a part of my life
That I needn't rearrange

I skip about so freely
Seldom stopping to think
My mind whirls like a bicycle doing a wheelie

It would be nice if some thought could be shown
Perhaps at long last the right decision made
Not another situation blown

I could really stand to feel good about it all
Would be wonderful to sense some order and direction
Not like I was taking another fall

It would be nice to think that I could count on me
That reliability and steadfastness in myself
Was something others could someday see

Moments

Dripping seconds gone forever

Time going nowhere

Empty

Thoughts

Dying 

Fading embers

The purity of those moments

When the life force

Is surging and I

Am actually doing something

There be the light

A question

How important to ask

To be able to seek

Exploration

Essence of the soul

Distilled into moments

Never lost

Always 

A gain

Of radiance

Wear it

“I am the false character that follows the name around.” - from White Noise by Don DeLillo.

Lighting and tall lean legs of light leanings and lost purposes

I carry with me the angry cacophony of the desperately lost

People who wander from thought to thought but can’t stand the notion of settling into any one of them

As if deep contemplation were a book and they favored television

I have felt their rages at all that life has denied them

So harried from place to place

So desperate for a taste of yesterday

Supposing that the leisure of the past is reality

I wonder

Who will help them grasp reality as they cling to the words of hate emanating from radios and TVs

And written across websites and repeated in bars and golf courses and hunting trips And wherever the intellectually timid gather

Cascading, tremulous voices disengaged from everywhere

All the notions taken in and spit out and the bile remains to sicken the mind

Lost children I have heard you

I shun you because I am just the saint of better tomorrows

Pray to your heavens and curse your fates

But leave me

I am going

So soft the names of angels and tired lessons

We learn from the awakenings

We who are brave thank you.

My Own Tragic Hands

My own tragic hands. 
Drunken sousaphone players. 
My death at age infinity from causes unknown. 
All the lonely nights I spent looking for the incredible whiteness of her being. 
These laments so profound that the dark night fairly ripples as I cry out for you and only you and the edge of nothingness approaches but I cry. 
Not. 
There is love and there is eternity and there is the madness of the man on the precipice. 
I tried to fake it. 
But no more the tears than the wasted years of everything I ever said or did. 
And still I dream.

There are apples that explode with the juices an mingle with the saliva and spell the word healthy. 
I munch. 
You love me. 
You who are so lost sometimes in the passing cascade. 
Come to me, my love. 
Share in the tomorrow of my yesterday. 
As I strip away the false hopes of tender hearted lies. 
We who are happy smile.

Put Off Until Tomorrow

I delay delay and again I delay
Forestall put off
A pro at procrastination
Adept at...
Never mind too much work to go on
Must set this aside for later
There is no greater cause then...
Oh bother -- another
Can't let this go on
Spun out of the way
From the fray
Cannot conceive of...
Hold on
Hang on
Just a sec
There's no rush anyway
And so I die
With much undone
What for fun?