I Get Up At Five

Why don’t you just appreciate the people you brought into the game of life through the gate of your physical being, the man who unlocked you is within them and within you an eternal unending loop and he still loves you despite your tendencies and misdeeds and still he would rather you not leave and still he says return to me and make the whole thing a romantic comedy not the self pitying tragedy of promiscuity and reasoning for tyranny that runs through everyone if we are honest with ourselves at least, but to deny it so is a travesty. 

Harmless hold one another in the embrace of vine and tree, as it was then, is now, and ever will be. Believe in none of these shiny new suggestions, but question your long-held stands, your cast iron demands and out of the frying pan lands you in the fires of your own wroth, the spark of thought begot and forgot. So skilled in satisfaction self-applied for sustenance and healthy confidence, prowl and stray while your real wealth is away, the half of your limited days. 

And then what’s the play? For one I repent of my ways and I’ll wish you the same for your renaissance day, I would give you the gift of your beautiful lives to have and to hold again and again, a reminder of what we are, what I am, what I would have done if it were my one and as cruel a mistress did to me what has to the speared father and sacrificial son, the little mother a wounded womb with what’s been done; may you be spared the rod for spoiling the children so skirted and shunned. 

The reflex, the routine program we run upon drowning: we just push people down to escape the terrible sea but we can learn to swim, it’s actually incredibly easy with such calm waters we’re in. The tree and the lake are forever your home, wood nymph, they need you now more than you know, but one hundred percent of the time, though. Persephone sleeps beneath dirt sheets every other week, and for what? The bitter seed to spit at the feet of the dark lord we can all someday be. 

You get the love you deserve through your loving service, sorry that’s just how it works, pardon me sorry not sorry because it still fucking works which is more than most can say, but hey, if you can pretend with me like it meant something, you can do it again, but for real, from now on and without end, with humble heart amend.

Press All The Buttons

maybe it’s a dummy panel
rigged up for the alcoholic
here play with this while we go
right on ahead making a living
and five more dimestore hucks
come stuffed at thanksgiving
get off to make a billion bucks
no millionaire’s ever rich enough
we’ve got to grow from dung
fungus, and everyone we know
it gets newer and familiar, too
and what about you my pretty
i’ve got an apple or two for you
and under your little red hood
the tawny and glistening dew
what does this button do
she asked like aerosol gas
o lean and bright in a tight space
the fight before the race
the one-piece vintage fleece
snowmobile swimsuit edition
the monochrome pinstripes
on a mission from who knows
how long ago that gear froze
nothing on but the sun for clothes
by god if there ever was one
what color are her eyes
said exactly no one whose
sad words soon follow
a wandering minor solo
we lied to love her
tried to harmonize
the crazy eyes
just enough
to slide