Sunday, September 14, 2014

Deaf Tones Talk

Lost Tongues-

i seek your forgiveness
and i offer my apologies
for i've done it again
gone and re-enacted it again
like some rehearsal in a theater i've donned those silly costumes and gone seeking something asunder
whoever and whatever that is
walking long along the empty midnight highway
like he had some fatefully frightful date to keep
a rendezvous
with a girl that is bewitching
or a lady who is elegantly stretching
and maybe a woman that is thoroughly fulfilling however you looked or wherever you touched
at least in his frantic fantasies
this lone stalker of a midnight walker
keeping his eyes straight
looking nowhere
as if he knew where his feet would lead him
to that destiny in some junction on some journey of an odyssey
he walks
and walked
but i digress
excuse me 
and do pardon me my shooting blanks
it must be the late night hour
that drives me so forgetful and ever so dour
i've even forgotten what it was i was offering
but here it comes
i remember
it was apologies
for things done and dusted
and others kept undone and delayed
but i guess its never really too late even if it is one last lonesome hour
not to bargain or to trade
now that i've laid myself all bare
do handle me with care
for i'm fragile
with no dexterity
or flexibility
just these words i'll say
do remember me as i was
with all my dust
it might not glitter this little vignette
but neither is it bitter
its just like that lonesome nameless midnight darkened awakening walker

You Know-

there's nothing new here
there's nothing new in these words
nothing worth your time to be honest
its just a fancy doodle done punching bouncy little lit-up rubberized letters that are boxed and squared on a lap they now call a top
screened in front of an electronic scream
plugged into sockets
wires webbed around
we call this wireless
being online
in the grid
where lives are led
and infatuations made
together with surrogates
there's nothing new here for you to see
if you've a keen eye you'll probably spot errors
grammatical ones
spelling mistakes
and shit like that
but nothing new you did't knew
and nothing new you didn't already know
thanks for humoring an old fucker

Finders Keepers:

-I found the truth, it was lying low hidden in a lie, when i asked 'why?' - it said goodbye 

Water Works:

-there it comes again
this beautiful rain
pouring its heart out
pounding the stubborn earth
as if to say
-need more drumming?
or would you rather i did some humming?

Gump Confetti-

I’m a fool I confess
Foolish enough to scorn the trodden path
Stupid enough to want to pave my own way
Good guidance I've rejected
Sound counsel I've discarded
And on early mornings like these I stay awake casting nets full of doubts out from within my boat
Listening to Old Ideas from Monsieur Leonard Cohen’s records

That ironic old Field Commander who can make naked sound like an Amen
He says he prefers raw flesh upon soft bones over her scented pillows
Lonesome doves and negotiated heavens
Along with dirty angels and infidelity
A bird on any wire or string will also do nicely
I’m even less of a Ladies Man
No. Nothing like the old maestro melting maidens in some grand old celebrated hotel
Or getting them to serve him tea and oranges that still sail all the way from China
No. I’m a gump with an invisible hump like that guy from Notre Dame
He had some castle didn't he?
Funny, that hump always reminds me of another French bum
He wasn't even in Notre Dame
His name’s Gerard Depardieu
He’s a big Gaullist, and now he’s into wine and swine, besides hobbies such as supporting the creation of a Russian Putinstan
But fuck our hump from Jean De Florette
Jesus Genghis Khan! That’s where we made the connection!
I've a rental shack but on days like these an attic in a Bhutanese condominium can be awkward, unaccommodating and filled with amoral activity
not for the genteel hearted
I battle sleep, mattress, blanket and pillow in a war of pull, push, contort and try to stay put
still stationary
Now those suspicions haven been baited, hooked
Here are the entrails
Telling me to read the signs
Urging me to interpret the omens
I thought you needed a sheep for stuff like that
But what would a simpleton like me know?
Crucified on a billboard in a neon junction
I stand circled in a crisis
The fence has been set up
The perimeters put up
Boundaries drawn up
Walls built up
They are making certain I’ll have no other choice save the one they have fabricated
This offer; should I choose to accept it, will render my long rebellious years tainted
For what am I if I now give in to the forces of the farcical?
What do I become denouncing the floral temple?
Will I still be able to write letters that form words such as “Love, Peace and Respect?”
Would I have sold out?
Is it the sale of the very soul that has molded us into who we are?
Will my shoes lose their soles?
Will my life die even as it is breathing breathlessly?
Can such a moron ever be alive let alone live long healthy and free?
The conclusion I've painted is that there are rains
And there are also rainbows
Like thunder and lightning, if you are into that sort of explosive thing
And where they’ll fall and where they’ll appear is a cue for scientists and a quest for vagabonds
For those restless seekers
Dreamers that have nightmares
Who try and wash it all away with caffeine and nicotine
Using squeezed-out toothpastes and year-old brushes to make their dental dread a presentable set
Who shudders at memories
Yet keeps room for coming memoirs

Refusing to be designated anything
Rejecting groomed offers to do something
And making peace with being nothing
And discovering a portal somewhere in-between this decadent room and that ethical scene

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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