the bay blues

it rips through me like a cancer, staring at the san francisco bay...the most beautiful city in the world lies before me...and i am dying...rotting on the vine...the city is a dream as i roam from place to place...the waiting is over, the realm of reality vanquished...the stumbling shoremen, the eying queens, the pretty rich girls, and the rumbling streams...i search the redwoods, through the moonlight, realize the pale face, all through the night...the saplings grow in the torrential rain, and the nameless corrode my river's veins, i see you sitting in the shade, living the good life, the false facade...the tree lined streets and long steep hills, are walking with me, they'll be there still...and the days and the nights, the leftovers, the bellicose bloomers...are all soaking wet between raindrops...drenched in the downpour...

springtime at the old home

are we flying everyone in tonite?...to this lonesome field full of the moonlight...and you sit and wonder, talking to old friends and enjoying the first signs of spring...you pet the dog, have a sip of beer from the bottle...bought on the cheap...the way it should be...you sit and listen...to the trials, tragedies, and memories of a fellow fighter...a fellow existor that you have known since kindergarten...since the days of rainbows, sunshine, and bliss...since the days of destruction...the crickets are sounding, the birds are chirping, and you are living...(damn! you are actually living!)...on the front porch...overlooking the hazy jersey mountains, overlooking glassy lakes...hearing the dull rumble of the union pacific on the western wind...here you are in the middle of it all without a notion, without a thought...it is you and the night, you and the day, you and your piecemeal reality...so another bottle of beer and another old story from another old friend won't do you any harm...spring has sprung, the world is yours, and it is alright...

does it wear you out?

the world is rising to meet me as i lie in bed and dream of days that never came...as a child i knew my future...i knew what it held, though i did not want to admit it...it held more of the same but different...more of the same but darker...maybe that is why i became cantankerous...maybe that is why the sores festered, and the body withered...was this the reason...because i could see the future...did my knowledge predicate my fate?...well of course it did...the question that you want to pose is that if i didn't know my future would my fate still be the same...well it doesn't matter mutha...because i do know the future...that is locked in stone...why pose suppositions...it is how it is...it was never any other way...if it was it would be different...but it's not so it ain't...is that clear enough for all of you down georgia way...down below the i.h.o.p. line...i received a letter from you today...it was brief but welcome...and your world opened up and swallowed me whole...i thought it might be nice to be caught up in your madness again...floating along in outerspace...sitting on the pacific shore...again with the beautiful people, again holding you close...watching the sun sink low and bow down to creation...but the world is not so forgiving...so i sit in jersey, soft as a feather, quiet as a monk...and live the future alone...