Foolish Words
Why, they ask me
are all your songs so sad?
Why do your words melt
like brilliant snow
into metaphors that are neither
warm nor cold,
nor whistle with every bounce of perfect day.
Instead, they pour like jagged seasons
into the mouths of lives
that were never supposed
to amend –
minds that were never supposed
to know better.
They speak of a sadness
that fill me with genocide sir,
but you are not made of such tempests
no, you are from the affection of smiling mothers
and the comfort of all that gets held to a dream.
So why do your words
feel like horse hair
when we read them?
Why can’t you write of the love
that comes to poets
when they spend an evening
with a star lit window and an eternity
of sun sets made from harps?
I can’t understand why the piano in your
verse always sounds like its biting down
on the final note of a distant tragedy
Yet maybe it’s true,
maybe the sadness in your songs
is not that of yours but that of ours
maybe the world is filled with volcanoes
that burst and spill an anguish
over all that we refuse to acknowledge
maybe you just let your words
fill us with something that emanates
from the last unscathed quarter of the human
spirit;
yes, maybe you just won’t let words fool us anymore.
Wrong Way To Love
There is no wrong way to love someone. There is only one way and some days that way can fill you with knives and other days with sunsets.
What Happened To The Revolution
What happened to the revolution? I’ll tell you what happened, plasma TV’s, PlayStations and reclining sofas happened!
Bad Joke
There come days when
I could just throw it all;
every word
every metaphor and revelation
every breath that lights the flare of discourse,
the one that blinds the hours of sleep and silence,
I could wrap it up in a curse
and lob it to space.
Yes there come days when
people can be such bad jokes
And yes there come days when
I can be people
suddenly standing alone
as the most serious joke of all.
