Embarrassing Company

so...
you want it this way and that
i shall wear a nice hat
lie flat on the seat of a train
carry an umbrealla through the rain
wear gloves and a certain coat
speak words of a certain rote
and never smoke

so...
you like the ooo's and the ahh's
i shall measure a pause
and break out in conceding applause
i shall put the right name to the face
and mention the superior race
we shall walk a particular pace
and never confess that our haste
is simply a mess

so...
you love the boys and the girls
and all the artificial curls
expensive pearls designer suits
lace handkerchiefs and snakeskin boots
japanese cars and a billion stars
couldn't captivate your heart
more than some other loot

so...
you think me empty and vain
consider restraint a taint
of those who have not a brain

well...
I gladly refrain

About the Author

E'er swiftly flows the tide
That measures our achievements
As a border ringing round
From the moment of inception
To the moment that we died.

What virtue then is boasting
When all praise is eulogy
And those that we inspire
Will never know whose effigy
They honor with faint words?

For as the grown child
They speak of wild
Moments remembered falsely--
One perfect smile
Another infinite trial.

But I perceive
Each one of us receive
Simply enough to believe.
Thus we conceive
A means to recede.

A March Muse

It is time

The mighty traveler has circumnavigated all
The expedition is complete
And he stands again where he began

He has journeyed to the four winds

A shadow speaking dark words
A brilliant figure beckoning but once
A stranger whispering impossible riddles

And then himself again

But now in possession of the gift
That elixir that though forbidden
Must be obtained at whatever cost

It is named

To do good and evil like a god
To square the circle
To return to the centre of the soul

On Seeing a Blind Girl Worship

blind girl, blind girl,
lost in a darkness river,
drowning, drowning,
then, rythm! patter-patter,
a footstep, clap clap,
you can see it in her eyes
blank and staring wide
at the form of the noise
"rejoice" her blank eyes cry

drum roll, her feet shift
the ground begins to form
heart stop, the beat lifts
crescendos all around
odd-eyed and off-balance
she stumbles to the tune
leading in the dance that should be
filling this stony room

but the rest of the worshipers
fix their lying eyes
on the words they are chanting
until the time dies
still as statues
lips moving in rows
eyes bending backward to mock
her oratorical throes

they finish and file out
into the devil's arms
she stumbles after
betraying with halting step
the fact
that she walks in a world of light

"my my"

my life is catatonic
i'm as numb as the song says i am
but not comfortable

my sex life is capricious
like watching two jellyfish collide
in a tank of water

my job lacks catharsis
i want to change the world not
service the mundane

my emotions are cacophonic
like a pile-up on the freeway
that only interferes

my philosophy is callous
i despise everyone and everything
myself most of all

Relenting

Will you join me in the word dance
May I take your mind
And step in time
Pull close within a trance?

May I rivet you with an argument
Quell your protests
Slowly digress
Until at last you relent?

Except that I can but succumb
Can but express
The emptiest
Of what I would become.

A Song of Praise to Apathy

Supreme apathy, be my God;
Secure for me a name unknown;
Cast me not from thy earthly heaven;
Crown me with mediocrity.

All aspirations have I perceived and scorned,
Life's span no different than a single day.
Walk with me I pray, through fog and mist,
And bury me in the graveyard of forgetfulness.

On a Minor Betrayal

Oh, I've been alone through it all.
The friends who walked a mile or a year
Are all gone, with more of the same lot coming along,
To day by day do some play by play on the petty and perfunctory,
Whilst I, in solemn hidden wrath, cut apart their small deceits
To find, the giant monstrosity buried beneath.

Oh, I've seen my share of truth.
The slight behaviorisms, the routine clichés,
The rare collapses of their present fronts and past flaunts;
Delusion and blind intention birth their thoughts, and, like a great whore
To her bastard children, they raise these thoughts as though
They were heaven's very angels, blessed and pure.

Oh, but we will all carry on.
You and I will live it through till bitter end,
Till, found at last in wretched, awful paradigm, we see
Clearly, acutely, and with fatal comprehension, that for our small sins
There is no redemption. Oh innumerable! oh sublime!
The perfect agonies with which we bless our brothers.

Games

I. Children's Game

Little Gaia come to play;
She cannot wait another day.
I will run through grasses,
Though she chase me, run away.

Little Aello come to play;
She cannot wait another day.
I will run through grasses,
Though she snatch me, run away.

Were you there to watch us play?
Can you wait another day?
I will run through darkness,
Though you chase me, run away.

Were you there to watch us play?
Can you wait another day?
I will run through darkness,
Though you snatch me, run away.

II. Adult's Game

They wait with smiling faces;
Over the hills they wait and sing.
You should run through grasses,
Though I stay here, run away.

They wait with smiling faces;
Over the hills they wait and sing.
You should run through grasses,
Though I die here, run away.

Can you see their smiling faces?
Can you hear their song?
You should run into the light,
Though I stay here, run away.

Can you hear their smiling faces?
Can you hear their song?
You should run into the light,
Though I die here, run away.

III. God's Game

Little Me come to play;
I cannot wait another day.
I will run forever,
Though it chase me, run away.

Little Me come to play;
I cannot wait another day.
I will run forever,
Though it snatch me, run away.

Duplicity

The one I am and the other one,
And all of them together in a row;
I trot them out and switch them up
Till you can't tell friend from foe.

They call it "oh so despicable,"
"So contemptible," "what a shame";
But me, myself, and the other I
All agree they're the ones to blame.

Who said that what's integral
Must thereby be what's right?
If each in its own strange sense is true
Why not let them all be you?