I am in full writing mode, and will begin posting new poems and lyrics every week... This is the working poem that a number of song lyrics sprang from, I began it in 2005 or so....
What have you done?
There is no forgiveness when the heart is gone.
I spoke the truth until it hurt -
The space behind the heart that holds it like a fist
Breath tightened under duress -
Or the truth within us.
Ripped from the root:
Shut the thinking down
And let the show begin.
A low-itched harmony, that chest-pained fear of life,
The lump in the throat that panics speech -
That kind of pang that can well one up in tears
At the snap of a finger:
An idea of a child’s memory relit
Like an old unwanted dog with such sadness in its eyes
It hurts to see its such weariness
And we all know this.
I feel her alive and thankful
Magic the guide to expect as she makes her entrance -
On the roof as the building collapsed,
Oh the wind can cause the rails to creak like a ship in Arctic duress.
A slavedancer, beaded and perfumed
Metal-cold bracelets upon each battered wrist -
The question of my deity rewarded
With a neck that stretches out for miles.
I am yet just and fair in the language of the trees
A warrior in respite while they plotted my death.
Then a simple Bard shackled and singing to a Roman Lord -
I know what it is to lose my two sons
I remember somehow that grievous pain in the pit of my stomach,
My fingernails chipped and filled with dirt from the farm,
Smoke brushes along the contours of my form,
Seamen called and I answered,
Painted for another photo-shoot,
Walking delicately through the mines,
Trimmed, and perfect and haven’t eaten in three days,
Look to the side, see the conspirators behind the curtain,
Down the alleyways,
Waiting in a Model T,
Tumbling through forests,
Guns and knives, hammers and poisons
Wandering between realms
Like Trojan soldiers on a vase, I fought well and bitter and to the death,
I become 100 years old and awakened - animate.
Like the Huntress, I am prey, or conquered by Love.
I fall like leaves from separate similar struggles,
Falling to the side, folding in
My hands frozen at the tips -
Reaching up again to that lovely, lovely place
Frostbite without actuality - a point of meaning -
I cannot see the faces in the balcony.
Flashing one scene then the next -
The lights red to gold upon my hair,
Oh I could answer any question -
The taste of me alone profound,