www.jollyroger.com
Drake's MP3 Poetry Readings:
The After Dark Field
Book
(2.3mb)
The Most Perfect
Silence (1.5mb)
The Quiet Before The
Show (333k)
The After Dark Field Book Sonnets
by Drake Raft
to Windy Meadows
I have waited for so long,
To live the magic on the stage,
To breathe the music in this song,
Before time turns the page.
A distant change in the weather,
Lightning sets the sky all aglow,
I wish it could last forever,
The quiet before the show.
Night falls; curtains rise with the moon up high,
And then walks again all that did once die:
The After Dark Field Book Sonnets
Copyright (c) Drake Raft & www.jollyroger.com, 1995
All rights reserved.
BeaconWay Press: PO BOX 1087
Chapel Hill, NC 27514
i.
Sitting alone by the window one night,
Brown dried grass sleeping in the late summer,
Heard a symphony playing out of sight;
Neither bows nor brass, a silent drummer.
Perhaps yawning sounds of distant traffic,
Or ghosts lamenting in the heavy air;
Echoing vibrations from the tragic,
A melody of yesterday's despair.
That quiet music made it all seem true,
I drew a cool breath and felt it's all right;
Come tomorrow there are things I must do,
But I believe in silent sounds of night.
When it plays again, the night's symphony,
Perhaps she'll hear it and remember me.
ii.
The phone rang, she said, "hey, there's a blue moon,
Let's picnic in the old cemetery,
We'll start off at dusk, be there by night's noon,
It's far off, hard to find, but by the moon we'll see."
Now I'm not morbid, don't worship Satan,
Any more than Darkness's Prince might worship me,
But of graveyards at night I am a fan,
As I was of her quiet mystery.
Met her down at the old waterfall fort,
She was seventeen, I was twenty three,
They'd taught us to not heed laws of the court,
But a friend's all I wanted her to be.
'Cause I'd been through it all too many times,
I was still burning for yesterday's crimes.
iii.
A reflected moon danced 'cross the water,
The lake 'round the graveyard's peninsula,
She recited a poem her dad taught her,
About the perfect poet's fatal flaw:
"There was a kid who could make it all rhyme,
And everything he touched it turned to gold,
He wrote of love and death and tide and time,
But to find the yellow metal's so cold."
The poem chilled me; the flames faded to coals,
One more piece of art born of suffering,
Threw another log on to warm our souls,
But light to the night more wood would not bring.
Then I saw it! I saw it clear as day!
The thought no words, only sonnets, could say.
iv.
So quick with a smile, agile with a laugh,
Such a wild spirit I never did see,
She split the last oatmeal cookie in half,
Threw her half to the horned owl in the tree.
We leaned up against a big old tombstone,
And upon it I saw chiseled my name!
But it was but shadows of branches blown,
As the dark wind and the trees played their game.
She told stories as the moon climbed up high,
She made them so real, felt I'd been with her,
I watched the flame of our last candle die,
Up my spine crept a cold, tingling shiver.
"Wake me up if you go," she leaned her head on me.
She fell asleep, started snoring lightly.
v.
A cloud crossed the moon-- my God what is this!
Darkness was complete, nothing could be seen,
Stared so hard, but no light could my sight kiss,
As I was enveloped in the black scene!
I panicked. Out! Help! But I couldn't scream,
'Cause I knew that it would be of no use,
For this abyss was of my private dream,
I had earned it by my sordid abuse.
Felt I was drowning, my heart pounding mad,
I gritted my teeth and thought, "All right night,
I know I've walked crooked, and I've been bad,
Take my soul, darkness, and show me the light."
Broke out in a cold sweat, and lost my breath,
As these poems were wrenched from me, to their death:
vi.
Conservative bandit, almost got lost,
Towards the wild sea youth always carouses,
Against the decadent rocks I was tossed,
For they'd deconstructed the light houses.
But I dragged myself from the tumbling surf,
And you know that yourself you've got to save,
These great fuited plains know bountiful turf,
But your own roads, friend, you are free to pave.
There's something beyond the politcal,
The eternal beyond the daily news,
Beyond the proud elite so cynical,
I took to the sea with no time to loose,
One foggy night, to make beacons of romance,
In truth's ragin' ocean, I'll take my chance.
vii.
And everybody broke up this summer,
Have you heard? There's no more reason to be.
Everyone's marching to their own drummer,
Everybody has just got to be free.
Guess you were searching for that perfection,
That they throw up upon the silver screen,
Found you in a bloody pool of rejection,
In the movies that scene is never seen.
Tell me girl, where were you going to go?
When you told me true love didn't exist,
Nineteen years old with nothing left to know,
Guess you'll never tell now, why you slit your wrist.
I'm sorry, but I don't know what I feel,
Your life from the rest of us you did steal.
viii.
You should've looked when darkness descended,
Listened closely, friend, to the silent still,
For there's a beginning when all has ended,
Sure as there's death atop our dearest dream's hill.
If you wish to listen, then let me tell,
Let words fill the emptiness of being,
Without words I'd be in unconscious hell,
For thought there would be no way of seeing.
When you leave the path, order starts to wane,
and instilled illusions begin to fail.
When you are cast away in private pain,
to the whispering wind of these words rig a sail.
After dusk, had I never sought nor looked
in the utter black, I'd have missed this book.
ix.
Technology, you have reached your limit,
You can't amplify the beast anymore,
You've duplicated flesh, replaced the wit,
Created pictures which words were once for.
Blinded by the light, consciousness withers,
We are ruled by feelings, pleasure and pain,
It's dark out there, in the cold I shiver,
Being alone in thought makes one insane.
You hit humanity like a tidal wave,
Distracted the Lord, gave us idolatry,
But there's something that science cannot save,
Nor touch-- the written word's deep mystery.
For technology, you cannot touch this,
It is but what it is; a kiss is but a kiss.
x.
A seventeen-year-old midwestern kid,
I packed my bags; hopped a plane for the East,
I had sold my mind to the highest bid,
What a shock to find I'd been bought by the beast.
They tried to lure me into saying ,
Overwhelmed me in dark reality,
So blind, they think they're equal to their luck,
Out to destroy my truth and destiny.
Seemed so contrived to me-- liberal laws,
No friends around, alone I walked the street,
Tried to rip me apart with mental claws,
They drew first blood; I found it to be sweet.
So here I am, pedant punk, disagree,
While your daughter's reading my poetry.
xi.
In the end they didn't have to ban books,
We returned, once more, to the dark ages,
Where all were manipulated by looks,
And crucified were all silent sages.
You were just trying to find a hand hold,
Something to believe in to raise you up,
But all you could find was brilliant fool's gold,
Didn't seem so sweet to drink from success's cup.
Anyone with sight never feels they belong,
For the superficial order's unfurled.
So you rebelled against all you thought was wrong,
By suicide you took on the whole world.
Me too girl, the night killed a piece of me,
Some call it innocence-- some say it's vanity.
xii.
In the graveyard the spirits came haunting!
Mysterious vapors shunned by society;
Unseen in the midst of flesh's flaunting,
Aye, mate-- I'd never seen them on MTV.
I brought out my pen, my pocket notebook,
Hands possessed; 'wind blew my pen 'cross the page,
As rose from every grave yesterday's spook,
I was seized by each ghost's particular rage!
It was my penance to capture it all,
I'd rampaged paradise-- the fruit I ate,
To gain redemption after the long fall,
Sentenced to capture night in the sonnet.
Where the human meets the void, art shall be,
Where order meets chaos there's poetry:
xiii.
By the valley cliffs we hopped on the train,
The flatbed cars that rolled on by at ten,
They always slowed down for the curved terrain,
Crossing the Ohio, sped up again.
Marie and I, we chased the sun all day,
On by the golden fields of September,
The rushing wind all our secrets did say,
In summer's breeze she glowed like an ember.
Apollo dove under, the train slowed down,
She had fallen asleep on my shoulder,
There would be no east bound train back to town,
But I didn't wake her, I just held her.
If flesh could follow what the mind does see,
Then I 'd be back on that train with Marie.
xiv.
Welcome to the silent jungle, my friends,
Where everything's done in the cloak of night,
Villain's smiles are but a means to an end,
Turn around once and you'll be out of sight.
No one seeks the truth, just get me my A,
We're all just faces in the faceless crowd,
Hit the street looking for someone to play,
Not you-- you bore me; grass has made you proud.
Sent me to this mental institution,
It's a rough time in here if your soul's white,
Don't need your cocaine, I've got religion,
I don't need anything that isn't right.
Mess with this, and it'll rip your mind in two.
You've got your illusion; this owns what's true.
xv.
All around me the red leaves were falling,
Swirling and twirling on down, so was I,
Blowing cold northerly winds were calling,
But with these broken wings I couldn't fly.
Then she walked by, brought a change in the air,
The sky in her eyes, the red in her hair.
In her I can see a summer sun set,
Roses by the road, rainbows when it's wet.
She flies so free, watch her go her own way,
One more guy, doesn't matter what I say.
Oh, I know in my arms she'll never be,
Closest I 'll get are these piano keys.
White ones when I 'm up, black ones when I 'm blue,
I play all of them when thinking of you.
xvi.
Oh my friends, ask not where the poet lies,
The poet lies within each one of you,
The creator of dreams, life's alibis,
Masterpieces of art, in all you do.
There's untold talent in watching the moon,
Or feeling the humor within a joke,
To read a book, appreciate a tune,
To fall in love with fall's burning leave's smoke.
But time is the master of all our rhyme;
He inspires it, and then takes it away;
Night's dreams born on silvery mists sublime,
All fade away, with the dawn of the day.
There's no beauty for which I ever cared,
That wasn't a beauty in which all shared.
xvii.
Walnut walls, golden studs in red leather,
Freshmen prep-girls wearing autumn kilts plaid,
Oh, come outside, there's much finer weather,
It gets in my way-- all for which is paid.
But there's a beauty there, genuine warmth,
It's nice sometimes, to come out of the night,
To catch Hickory's smile, and lose your breath,
Oh girl, for sore eyes you sure are a sight.
And what's this now, is she walkin' towards me?
How's it that she's catchin' me by the eye?
How is it in this crowd me she does see?
I'm just a T-shirt and jeans kind of guy.
"Seen ya around, stranger," she says to me,
"But never thought I'd catch you in Ivy."
xviii.
So you think you want to mess with me tonight?
Want to classify me by your disdain?
You think into my mind you've got insight?
How could you? You've never walked 'gainst the grain.
And all your degrees, they mean nothing here,
Upon the wide open fields of my mind,
You're the visitor in these words, my dear,
And your manners you really ought to mind.
So why don't you get dressed, now that you're rich,
No, there is nothing noble about you,
Deconstruct another, you jealous witch,
None of what you think about me is true.
But blindness is what makes idiots wise,
The ability to see truth in lies.
xix.
This soft secret's blown by the whispering wind,
To be caught by the white sails of your soul,
Listen close, in this tale truths you will find,
That to live we must keep locked in a black hole.
Oh, I have been shipwrecked upon thought's rocks,
Trapped above the water in consciousness,
I believed I held the key to the lock,
That confined man to his meaninglessness.
Born with a belief in thought and logic,
I felt by reason I'd find the good way,
But down reason's road I found the tragic,
Above the destructive element I can't stay:
Back on the sea, safe within a story--
For reasons sink in the great void's glory.
xx.
The greatest turn on is sweet innocence,
There's no seduction like that of the truth,
Quick girl, come-- the Autumn night we could sense,
Right now on the fields 'neath the speckled roof.
Follow me, Hickory, to the golf course,
I can smell the rum, I can taste the fire,
Red hair, Lennon glasses, the brisk wind's force,
The Greek Gods that Cheshire grin would inspire.
To the echo spot by the pond we walked,
Pile of Oak leaves, scent of cotton candy,
Pushed me down, lookin' up we lay and talked,
She'd stolen from Ivy a flask of brandy.
"Kiss me," she said, "I know your name's a fake,"
"But kiss me, kiss me right now, right here, Drake."
xxi.
Hey teach, don't think I'm gonna read your book,
Tired of being your captive audience,
It's messed up, I'd say, my money you took,
And then you tried to rape my common sense.
Tell me teach, why do I need a degree?
They were worth something, perhaps, long ago,
But fadin' fast is your precious society,
Where politics is all you have to know.
But you're tenured to the corporation,
Selling transcripts in nihilistic classes,
I'm forced to buy mental masturbation,
From your gang of pretentious asses.
To evolve we don't need your final solution,
The truth shall prevail in evolution.
xxii.
A fall evening among the whispering leaves,
That spoke the secret of the cool season,
From their branches soon they would have to leave,
Though for changing weather there's no reason.
And her red hair was the color of fall,
Asleep upon my shoulder, unaware,
That like the leaves, we too would someday fall.
Lines would be etched upon her face so fair.
Oh she possessed an innocence so blind,
And the blindness made her most beautiful,
For I could believe I was being kind,
Instead of so selfishly dutiful,
Believing truth prevails in life's contest,
Makes my poems fair and her beauty honest.
xxiii.
Rhyme without reason is but painted void,
Reason sans rhyme is not philosophy,
Though half realities by empty men are buoyed,
For them it is true as it's all they see.
The great scholars are the great agreers,
When the blind lead the blind, the blind do see,
You're dead if you think different from your peers;
Liberal's tyranny of mediocrity.
Institutions wane and empires grows weak,
When blind conformity is deemed as strong,
When children are destroyed if their minds they speak,
When men seek power by tradition's song.
Burn! Burn down the school for which forests fell!
Burn the preacher in his self inspired hell!
xxiv.
I'm the pirate of your mind's seven seas,
I'll plunder your soul for a poem's pleasure,
And all your thoughts in these words I shall seize,
In a sonnet I'll bury your treasure.
Aboard this sloop I am the only law,
Whatever I choose to show that is seen,
If you want to duel I'll duel, let you draw,
Then I'll take you down under the calm green.
So get rid of that borrowed attitude,
It doesn't make a difference way out here,
You know, I find it just a little rude,
For you to keep secrets from Jolly Roger.
Aboard this ship death and darkness hold rank,
Think a slanted thought and you'll walk the plank.
xxv.
Thunder under the hood, trees blur on by,
While the stars above keep up silently,
Her hair blown on back, never needs to try,
She expresses beauty so naturally.
The cool wind rushing in from every side,
Black ribbon of road splits the fields in two,
Wire wheeled MGB, take us for a ride,
'Neath the Carolina night's mystic view.
But girl can I reach you, those bright blue eyes?
Touch the element behind that cool smile,
Too quickly we rush on, 'neath the starred skies,
Wish I could know you-- stop-- hold you awhile.
But I've got to keep my hands on the wheel,
Takes everything you've got, writing what's real.
xxvi.
Poet philosopher, you're a dying breed,
You'll be shot, then hung, if caught on the street,
Got high-tech, Renaissance men they don't need,
Bureaucracies only need to repeat.
You could have it all, if you had the greed,
You could rent your soul, boy, put on a tie,
But you would pay the price; your mind would bleed,
Freedom you cherish would wither and die.
So pull your hat down low, 'gainst the North wind,
It's a lonely walk, following the true,
The abyss gave you passion and a mind,
So run, boy, put in words all that you view.
Outline the beauty with the deep, dark pain,
Write to save yourself from going insane.
xxvii.
She may have had music in her blue eyes,
But there's quiet truth in your dark brown hue,
And where her painted face and hair told lies,
There's a natural beauty about you.
She might have the money and the right look,
But you have yourself, and your smile's in tune,
With beauty, souls we often overlook,
The soul's forever, while beauty leaves soon.
Now I 'm older, I appreciate more,
Than just an ornament to hang around,
The music in a face becomes a bore,
While the soul plays scores of infinite sound.
And so it is you are my first true love,
As I 've looked deeper, and risen above.
xxviii.
Oh, Einstein, couldn't you see tragedy,
In the search for the ultimate order?
While from Hitler's perfection flowed a blood red sea,
Couldn't you tell what would lie at the void's border?
Remember Hamlet's outrageous fortune?
Did you see what they did to Socrates?
And how Ahab's quest led him to ruin?
How consciousness was lost by good Nietzsche?
Did you not expect, the ultimate law,
would show that there is no law to be found?
Oh, Einstein, it's nothing new, quantum's flaw:
At the base of man's monuments there's no ground.
For the highest order is orderless,
Tragedy is there's naught behind greatness.
xxix.
Hey girl, these days of freedom make it hard,
'Cause we're kind of pitted 'gainst each other,
It's so easy to fold, take another card,
Everyone's looking for the perfect lover.
Seems like yesterday we would've made it,
And we could've traded souls forever,
But our generation's become so jaded,
Walls have been built where our souls have been severed.
But feeling pain's not a sign of weakness,
You know the pain, though you cannot admit,
But by those who most feel the black bleakness,
The two threaded tapestry shall be knit.
Let's be but friends so as not to be enemies,
We know what it's like to drown in love's seas.
xxx.
I crossed Washington by the Oak tree,
And walked under the philosophy arch,
I noticed a gargoyle looking at me,
It stiffened me like a collar with starch.
A wide open mouth on a face of pain,
Little monkeys climbing over the head,
Hellish horror the stone sought to explain,
While all the monkeys laughed over the dread.
What man condemned this poor visage to fire?
And in what kind of world did he believe?
To put this next to the majestic spires,
That reach for the empty blue sky to cleave.
Genius architects can't lie, so they hide
among stones gargoyles of man's other side.
xxxi.
Build me a ship to sail the seven seas,
A philosophy to describe all man,
A science to all nature's secrets seize,
Fiercest elements the hull must withstand.
Ah, but there's something no hull can outlast,
Be it of oak, be it iron or steel,
Be it words which into the truth is cast,
The barnacle shall overcome what's real.
The disciples attach themselves, so vain,
Barnacles believing they steer the ship,
Blind to the white sails, the mind's lofty pain,
So thick, with currents hulls begin to slip.
So the religion follows the masses,
Drifting 'cross seas 'til on rocks it crashes.
xxxii.
Studied Plato and his Predecessors,
Though any of them I never did see,
Instead they sent along an old professor,
A grad-student tagged along eagerly.
We learned of the forms, I met Socrates,
I admired the ways of that wise old man,
To learn he knew nothing, I paid my fees,
And realized education was a scam.
"Excuse me here, sir, but if you don't mind,
Nothing could I learn better without you,
A quieter place to sleep I will find,
For my term paper this blank sheet should do."
And that funny course, I never did pass,
But I learned more than the rest of the class.
xxxiii.
I know what you mean when you say you're sad,
Sad to see me now that we've broken off,
Those perfect days playing Frisbee we had,
Our hearts back then we did truly betroth.
Girl, to this day I never felt like that,
Afraid to ever fly that high again,
By your side still kind of wish I was at,
Soft eyes, wild laugh-- I can't say it in pen.
For everything perfect is tragic too,
As perfection which doesn't last is flawed,
And girl it'd kill me to see him with you,
By time memories of mine from me shall be sawed.
Go away girl-- don't want to know 'bout it,
Before I met you I lived without it.
xxxiv.
You set the stage, make up pretentious rules,
To ensure your disciples shall inherit,
Doesn't matter that they're blind, that they're fools,
Doesn't matter that they don't deserve it.
You build institutions of tradition,
Where conformity is what gets you through,
Ceremonies for fake erudition,
As if money can buy the deeper true.
But I guess it's all for entertainment,
We pay professors to tell us we're smart,
Give us virtue so we can run the government,
So we don't have to fight the wars we start.
Lie with a straight face-- you say it's the trick,
No thanks, I walk quietly-- the truth's my big stick.
xxxv.
There's a bird sanctuary on a pond,
Where all the Princeton geese come home to sleep,
They appeared as if summoned by a wand,
We were the shepherds of these feathered sheep.
The cold rain began to descend again,
She tucked her hair into her jacket's hood,
I drew the cord, tied it about her chin,
Geese honking good night to us, there we stood.
The sun peaked through for but a moment or two,
Before it slipped away over the edge,
It was then I knew our love would be true,
As the woods slipped over darkness's ledge.
We slowly turned from the fading pink sky,
Her face came up to mine, I closed my eyes.
xxxvi.
You know I never could figure you out,
There were things you didn't want me to know,
I know you've built walls to shut the pain out,
We fear they can't understand; so we don't show.
I know the magic lasts but a moment,
And a mystery figured out is dead,
My memory of you can not ferment,
As with our safe distance we never bled.
I know we weren't made to fall in love,
Two too skeptical of inherent nature,
Every time my heart flies as high as a dove,
I'm kissed, and torn apart by a vulture.
I guess I just want to see you one more time,
The mystery that gave reason to this rhyme.
xxxvii.
Turn off the technology, radio,
Don't need trees cut down for a newspaper,
In the forest is all I need to know,
I like nature-- wouldn't want to rape her.
And I don't really need a car to drive,
I've walked the miles, and I'll walk a few more,
It's a mystery why so many strive,
When the ocean's tide shall sweep clean the shore.
Don't want your political rhetoric,
Don't need you telling me who I should be,
Get me to the misty mountain's rocky creek,
Take me away to the silvery sea.
With the trees I feel so much less alone,
Than in a crowd where I could never be known.
xxxviii.
After dark, running across the golf course,
The moon rose in the summer night so clear,
Suddenly I was startled by a horse
I thought first-- then I saw it was a deer.
A marble statue, it's head held up high,
Looked around, noticed we were surrounded,
Twenty seven of his friends standing by,
I held my breath, the silence resounded,
Then the leader, he looked into my eyes;
He held me there, smiled, then nodded his head,
Laughing at the sad beauty of man's lies,
Off into the dark, my dearest friends fled.
But his gaze had transferred a light divine,
I 'm a believer in creatures benign.
xxxix.
Does life's meaninglessness make it mean more?
Are actions nothing in contexts of chance?
Or does chance give man something to live for,
Insignificance makes significance.
Because it's all for naught, we can be free,
But to be free, then we are free to choose,
What difference can choice make if naught will be?
All's equal in naught; there's no win nor lose.
So then the naught makes it all mean nothing,
But if this be the case, I will sing,
For I shall be free to act anything,
And into the void I shall myself fling.
If there's no consequence, then we are free,
But what good is free, when but naught will be?
xl.
Old Derek, though you may be far away,
I know all the things at which you would laugh,
And in my head I can hear your voice say,
The cow in the mudhole's taking a bath.
Seems no one else in this world understands,
The subtle joke at the root of it all,
But we wrote papers, we played in three bands,
Together from our youth's years we did fall.
But I know our spirits live forever,
And though each day we have to go to work,
In my heart, with you, we're young as ever,
Golf-ball hunting, me and my friend Derek.
The longer we're apart, the more I care,
With each passing face he becomes more rare.
xli.
Late September brings a chill in the air,
You can catch it at one in the morning,
As the leaves prepare for their final flair,
Without even a gentleman's warning.
Oh the fleeting beauty of a youthful fall,
Brought tears to my inexperienced eyes,
With barely any memories at all,
And my twentieth year not yet gone by.
I suppose the romantic grows old fast,
Nostalgia comes easily to him,
Fascinated by all that doesn't last,
Held in awe by time's predictable whim.
With words time's burden I try to shoulder,
But as I write this, I've become older.
xlii.
Seeking to describe beauty in nature,
He pored over his books for countless hours,
So he'd understand how time does mature,
And unlock the beauty of a flower.
Mathematical equations held truth,
That was absent from the realm of people,
Why the people laughed there could be no proof,
So he let only math in his steeple.
A driving order ruled his steely heart,
To which he felt all nature must comply,
People can lie about love from the start,
But time and gravity they can't defy.
He never found the key to beauty's tomb,
The people stole his notes and made a bomb.
xliii.
Gothic gray stones frozen in winter's air,
They may stand forever in the same place,
But time time erases the moments youth shares,
And each year brings youth with a different face.
Past laughter and humor rise to new heights,
Like wine with time does become more detailed,
Lost loves become memory's most precious sight,
Alongside our white hopes and dreams that failed.
Friendship never again will be so strong,
Together we discovered who we are,
These iron bonds will last all our life long,
As our gestures travel on towards the stars.
Now you know why I watched on from the edge,
For it hurts to lose friends over time's ledge.
xliv.
Rock' n roll took my soul, left a black hole,
And filled my head with all the empty words,
Politicians playing the savior's roll,
Took my cash, left me to the circling birds.
Oh but today's shallow art they're screaming,
It sells to the masses, it sells to me,
A thousand thousand kids begin dreaming,
Up on that stage they'd someday like to be.
And so it was this way with my friend Mark,
Bought a guitar with his college money,
Black Sabbath couldn't save him from the dark,
To lose in this land we'll always be free.
Guess he was naive, trusting what they said,
Last night good Mark shot himself in the head.
xlv.
Shh, sleep on, sleep on, my innocent friend,
Got to face the after dark on my own,
Can't promise I'll make it to the night's end,
Love you, but I've got to do this alone.
Got to separate myself from it all,
Find where I've gone wrong, where I've been cheated,
How much of it was my fault-- the long fall,
And to how much of it was I fated?
Next time girl, want it to be forever,
Ain't got nothing, by myself I stand,
And girl, you may see me again never,
If this truth the void wishes to be banned.
So judge me darkness, tell me what I'm worth,
If I'm nothing then take me from this earth.
xlvi.
A mind can make so many connections,
Before this grand vitality does cease,
It becomes stale, void of new inflections,
Spirits no longer afford matter's lease.
Each sonnet, each word, takes me closer,
To the day that I will no longer write,
Though lost, I 'll not be a tragic loser,
Good sportsmanship is accepting the night.
To free my Ariel, and Caliban,
And not demand of them more than their due,
To smile upon children as I grow wan,
It's enough to have once thought something new.
And there's a peace here, beyond all that's true,
For by truth, we justify the evil we do.
xlvii.
Hey there! How am I supposed to reach you?
When words no longer exist in your mind,
I wonder, do you still wonder what's true?
Or do you just follow your instincts blind?
Thought I saw something there two years ago,
I know you understood the things I said,
But now your sail's down, on by these winds blow,
Guess it's my fault; because of me you bled.
So I let go, watch you fade into black,
Can't ever tell if it's the times or me,
But either way I won't be coming back,
There's consciousness higher than MTV.
All your money, and that sorority,
Guess I just need different reasons to be.
xlviii.
I was studying the workings of a star,
Quantum mechanics, nuclear fusion,
From which is borne all life from afar,
This reality of dreams and illusions.
But there was no magic to the physics,
The cold, hard equations of description,
Couldn't convey the feeling so mystic,
To be living with her in a fiction,
A dream it must have been under the stars,
Her eyes closed, and her wet hair swept on back,
Oh, lost in reasons we fight all our wars,
So just give me a piece that's free from fact.
I no longer care what makes the wind blow,
There are things that a child should never know.
xlix.
In thought to grasp laws of the universe,
Independently of being observed,
To set a feeling down in rhyming verse,
Without knowing poems others engineered.
To humbly probe the depths of human sight,
Preferring nature to admiration,
To walk where no man has walked, in the night,
Passing up speaking for contemplation.
To live alone with thought, and be complete,
To not have to abuse men to succeed,
To live beyond the short-sighted elite,
To reality, the prophet will lead.
Oh Einstein, my words wane next to your thought,
The poet who found truth that words could not.
l.
When the red sun touches the horizon,
Feel the heat radiating from the bricks,
A whiff of cool air; the night has begun,
And you succumb to your fantasy's tricks.
Oh, look towards dusk's deep blue eastern sky,
And dream the dream of a sixteen year old,
Somewhere out beyond, there's a reason why,
Sure as there's a reason we're never told.
The first spring night, that wild call's in the air,
Sitting on a bench, watching strangers pass,
Cars in the distance, quiet as a prayer,
Across the courtyard walks so fine a lass.
By the first warm, windless night I 'm swallowed,
And I taste the things that are not allowed.
li.
Girl, you're gorgeous, but don't it get boring,
Turning all the heads walking down the street,
I see girls see you-- they start comparing
themselves to something so naturally elite.
Girl, I'll tell you, it kind of gets boring,
Wearing my emotions upon my sleeve,
With everybody my mind exploring
Looking for the cracks in what I believe.
Never thought twenty four would be like this,
Thought by now I'd have it all figured out,
But I guess the mystery makes the first kiss,
Never quite knowing what she's all about.
Addicted to the stage, though there's a part of you,
That you know all the people lookin' never knew.
lii.
In evolution, conformity wins,
Because it's shared by the majority,
It's easy to sail with prevailing winds,
To navigate over well-chartered sea.
Original men are never needed,
The adult minds already have their words,
Defining power, how laws are heeded,
A new way they don't need nor can afford.
So the perceptive men are crucified,
Their ideas are relatively crazy,
To stand and say the people are defied,
By lying truths in the context hazy.
There's an element in man that must know
a truth, so the dead prophet he follows.
liii.
So many tears we shared over nothing,
For we feared that nothing would soon prevail,
I was afraid of losing everything,
But now it's OK that you have to sail.
It's hard to tell what's real from what's an act,
But we told the truth, even when we lied,
Pretending that forever was a fact,
As we played out our charade side by side.
The truth is that you're a beautiful girl,
But the truth in your face brings a man down,
With love the logical world did unfurl,
In beauty's truth all other truths do drown.
Alone, I am left with nothing to know,
With you I lost my truths; now you too go.
liv.
The black bleakness cuts to the bone at night,
When you're so far, far, far away from home.
Drawn out, tired, everyday you've got to fight,
All alone you must bring forth a new poem.
My eyelids grow heavy, I'm getting cold,
Dull headache descends, the void takes its toll,
But I must yet stare in, 'til all is told,
'Til the light's drained, extinguished is the coal.
Guess it's crazy, to have to walk alone,
But what I saw I always had to say,
Such a short time we've got to make it known,
Such a long time we've got down there to lay.
You look long enough, boy, into the void,
It looks back into you and you're destroyed.
lv.
When all the forces have been unified,
And all philosophies have been explored,
When the final solution has been applied,
I in all this perfection shall be bored.
So I'll drop you a line of rhyming verse,
Watch the critics try to file it away,
They will load each word into its own hearse,
Taking out of context everything I say.
For in their minds my words lose their meaning,
As they use me to justify some cause,
I say I don't believe in anything,
Saying nothing, these words transcend all laws.
But as I did not create these words I use,
I guess it's fair my thoughts should see abuse.
lvi.
Late October eve, Indian summer,
And the sun sits on level with your eye,
Blinded by the light, you can still see her,
So calm, so still, a cricket's sawing sigh.
Red, orange leaves, and yellow in our star,
Green grass, blue skies, in her eyes indigo,
A beckoning violet from mountains so far,
As the sun sets over autumn's rainbow.
When with someone the question disappears,
The search over, the moments last forever,
Oh, true love we learn so quickly to fear,
Watching eternity recede into never.
But against the pain, don't build a perfect wall,
Leave a window for the rainbow of fall.
lvii.
I've got four million CD's to choose from,
Ten thousand channels for me to tune in,
A hundred professors selling wisdom,
Don't need it, with my own mind I begin.
I know how, thanks, to read a classic book,
I don't need you telling me what it means,
Never much respected blind, kniving crooks,
They let my fathers die-- liberal deans.
You don't care about the mind that is me,
Which is OK; I don't care about you,
But I am not making you brown nose me,
While you'll flunk me if I don't do it to you.
You can have your racist diversity,
Just give me my F and set my soul free.
lviii.
Why worry about all the details?
When nobody understands the basics?
Why decorate a page with gaudy frills?
If nothing's ever said of the classics?
Physics is trading the forests for trees,
Four years of book-keeping, five more in Grad school,
Everyone stares at the board and copies,
To believe one understands takes a fool.
But men with the conforming elements,
Forge ahead, believing that they know,
They preach to you, that they're close to what's meant,
What the essence is behind this brief show.
While lesser minds corrupt in institutions,
Maverick minds follow their intuition.
lix.
Past the point of return, slipping so fast,
Into the dismal depths of depression,
It's nothing new-- the high never does last,
Think by now I would've learned my lesson.
But I yet reach for my own destruction,
Towards the perfect dreams my mind does present,
Lend a hand to evolution's erection,
Closer to death as each emotion's spent.
And oh boy, it's gonna be a bad storm,
Constant thunder's white noise within my head,
Too many connections, gone is any one form,
It's time for me to join the living dead.
The meaning wanes, I've been buried alive,
I exist, but gone is reason to strive.
lx.
These poems are not for critics-- they're for youth,
Don't read this if a teacher tells you to,
But read it if in words you find a truth,
That kindles that precious, perceptive view.
Oh, for all words were born upon feeling,
Without sentiment words are meaningless,
So beware, my friends, of pedants stealing,
Your right to write, leaving you dreamingless.
Without feeling, they have not the insight,
Into the present's loves and tragedies,
Mediocrity is the genius's plight,
Against him, it owns the majorities.
So don't study me friend, study yourself,
Lest your mind grow dusty upon the shelf.
lxi.
Artists envy the audience's eye;
For it has the final claim upon art,
Creators see the extravagant lie,
Where observers find a truth for their heart.
Does reason lead poetry's lines to rhyme?
Or does rhyme float above the deep reason?
In reading one feels both at the same time;
A rainbow and snow in the same season.
I wish I could again enjoy a book,
And be blind to the pain between the lines;
Skipping stones on the surface of a brook,
With a child's belief in something divine.
But more than you, I envy these few words,
For after we're gone, they will still be heard.
lxii.
It keeps me young, staring into the void,
I seek dissolution and shun pretense,
All external order must be destroyed,
I only want to feel what I can sense.
In decadence there is an honesty,
You can memmorize order but not feeling,
From society's subtle lies I'm free,
Art flows from me-- I'm not the one stealing.
There is nothing that compares to the high,
The high that is inspired fleeing the dark,
You must believe you're gonna truly die,
To gain the magnificent rainbowed arc.
I know forever nobody can fly,
But these poems let the Sysiphus in me try.
lxiii.
The profit of knowledge is ironic,
The poet prophet is a paradox,
At once both the venerator and cynic,
At once setting free and binding with locks.
We're taught that it's virtue to have the truth,
God wishes us to look down upon lies,
But the truth, the truth is good evil's proof,
To be honest is to oneself despise.
Kurtz's insight was a reward of life,
The realization of truth-- the horror,
It marked the beginning of Marlow's strife,
Corrupting insight into man's true core.
Truth walks among angels, burns in hell's fire,
Truth's dangerous when told by a liar.
lxiv.
Your beauty I can't reach nor touch tonight,
And so I focus upon this paper,
To bring your eyes and hair into light;
Rescue you from my mind's cloudy vapor.
Golden hair, down to the small of your back,
A smile so perfect, made for a goddess,
The curves and movements, nothing do they lack;
Yet in your laugh there's all that is modest.
The girl who found the channel to my heart,
The moment my eyes fell upon her face,
A fallen angel, with heaven did part,
To embroider my days in ruffled lace.
I would burn this paper, and break my pen,
If I could but hold her close once again.
lxv.
Early this morning you got on a train;
I tried not to cry, it started to rain.
Though you left me, I will try to be strong,
I 'll think 'bout you while they're playing this song.
I know I 'll never stop dreaming of you;
You will be with me, whatever I do.
When I feel down, I 'll look up to the sky;
Hear the melody I stole from your eyes.
You told me you needed to feel you were free,
You left my heart locked, you ran with the key;
And so I sit here, with nothing to do,
But sing the music that reminds me of you.
I stole this melody, from your blue eyes;
On the rainy gray day you said good bye.
lxvi.
Without beauty, how easy to abstain,
From the pleasures that beauty is heir to,
To promote virtue, with no chance of stain,
To be pure, there's nothing else he can do.
He rises above as a holy man,
His saintlihood garners sinner's respect,
The flames of fear and shame he knows to fan,
Making the different look like defects.
So the different are to be condemned,
In this way the ugly find their power,
Fueling reasons for men to be contemned,
Reaping the grim treasures of hate's dower.
We made him, he who plays upon our fears,
When he cried as a child, we ignored his tears.
lxvii.
My body's the ship, my mind is the sail,
My spirit keeps on blowing me along,
Over the ocean blue, imagination's dale.
Just a kid riding the wind's whispering song,
Driving my bug, wearing a bandanna,
My hair flowing back, pedal to the floor,
Dreaming beyond that blinking antenna,
I was sixteen, knocking on heaven's door.
On that summer eve my mind connected,
And my soul was borne upon the night's air,
With a freedom I became infected,
And ever since I haven't been back there.
Still don't know what this wind's blowing me toward,
But I know it keeps blowing me forward.
lxviii.
If you walk down by Princeton Inn college,
Say hello to the Grad Tower for me,
I watched it for two years, over the hedge,
December's sun sets held Divinity,
If you go on by McCarter Theater,
Listen carefully to the singer's words,
It's youth who causes the earth to teeter,
So take it to your heart, all you've heard.
And if you walk through the institute woods,
Be sure to ask the geniuses for me,
If in their ideas they see any good,
And what time's done with who I used to be.
If you run into me, don't say hello,
I may say something you don't want to know.
lxix.
You once saw something in me girl-- it's gone,
There was music, a sense, in the words I'd say,
But that was long ago, and we've moved on,
To killing each-other everyday.
Almost forgot I've been through this before,
There's a truth I value above people,
It's the power behind all of my lore,
I worship alone in this abstract steeple.
The contradictions you will never see,
Though you sometimes feel the insanity,
But because I can laugh at tragedy,
You know you don't really matter to me.
Beauty's in the beholder's eye-- it's strange,
That I am different because you have changed.
lxx.
When we met I saw a truth in your eyes,
I watched as the world kicked you in the head,
When down it's easy to buy into lies,
The eighteen year old I once met is dead.
Don't fear or hate me, just 'cause I'm different,
And I won't hate you just 'cause you're the same,
It's not by choice that by cruel wind we're bent,
No one controls the dice in this cruel game.
And I know my words shall never reach you,
I guess I must just write them for the wind,
And as it blows these big black clouds on through,
May it blow all my poems to someone kind.
Honesty is a lonely place to be,
But it's lonelier to pretend to agree.
lxxi.
One can not prepare for both peace and war
Simultaneously. I can't believe
that peace is what atomic bombs are for,
And those who believe it themselves deceive.
For the bombs were built by great men of pride,
Grown men celebrated while children burned,
But many more, I have heard, would have died,
So we are saved by that by which we're spurned.
From war we make peace, in peace we find war,
It's in our nature, the will to explode,
Creative destruction sleeps in man's core,
The bomb waits, Noah's flood has not yet flowed.
The bomb increased our power to destroy,
But our souls the same vices yet employ.
lxxii.
I've got no reason to listen to you,
Your old T-shirt says authority sucks,
And now that you're it, I see that it's true,
Giving us condoms, wishing us good luck.
No, I'm not gonna let you write my role,
From depression's throne, you look down on romance,
I can get plenty high without a bowl,
In pure words with her I have learned to dance.
Oh, cut me down some more, miserable witch,
You're a phenomena of easy times,
Not gonna lie with you in that liberal ditch,
Somebody's got to write the unknown rhymes.
Burn it! Destroy all weakness that constrains!
As truth the institution only feigns.
lxxiii.
He said we'd value reason over poems,
We'd follow logic instead of pleasure,
We would catalogue heaven's starry domes,
Make sure words never mingled with measure.
Philosopher kings would bring us the truth,
We would have no need for the birds of song,
From the poet we would stand aloof,
Art's imitation, imitation's wrong.
Oh, but Plato, I read this in a book,
A dialogue between people unreal,
Long and hard, for Socrates I did look,
But all I found was what you made me feel.
A naive poet you are, my Greek son,
To believe your truth is the only one.
lxxiv.
I can know you better without you here,
To remind me of the ways you have changed,
You've grown up, and adapted to the fear,
You don't feel that you yourself have been estranged.
Don't think that you're the first to think me a fool,
For being martyred for but a trifle,
But what is a life worth without this rule--
Open honesty I shall not stifle.
It isn't something you can trade nor sell,
One misplaced note ruins the entire sound,
You can stand me up at the gates of hell,
But I won't back down, no I 'll stand my ground.
My friend, if you truly loved the baby,
You wouldn't cut it in half-- there'd be no maybe.
lxxv.
So quick to accept some recognition,
For unselfish good performed on our own,
So eager to join in a tradition,
Where modesty on a stage can be shown.
There's paradox in medals of honor,
For the honor has already been done,
Presentation's to the medal's donor,
To include him in wars already won.
The allure of secret societies,
And all the empty beliefs we cling to,
I guess these mirages we choose to see,
For there is nothing else solid to do.
And so we build our castles upon air,
The king's tragedy's to learn nothing's there.
lxxvi.
By Rocky, listen to the whisper arch,
Hear the echoes from the winters before,
Turned my collar to the wind, throat was parched,
My legs were aching and my back was sore.
But still I ran through the cold blowing snow,
Without love, without hope, with but a heart,
No curiosity, nothing to know,
Blank white out, couldn't find a place to start.
But still I ran through the slush, the hour rush,
Bleak gray fog pervaded all of Princeton,
I was slipping, drowning in this vast hush,
With no where to go, nothing to get done.
But I ran, and ran, I outran the gray,
To give this to the whisper arch to say.
lxxvii.
An ode to the four towers of Princeton,
There's a Fine tower reaching for the Gods,
While along the ground the physics must run.
McCarter tower, where people applaud
the youth strutting their hour upon the stage,
But yesterday, the alumns were up there,
Sweet scent of magnolias carried rage.
Over the greens, the graduate tower,
A pillar of isolated knowledge,
Studying Fitzgerald, Shakespeare's dead youth,
While the living poets turn from college,
Look deep into her brown eyes for the truth.
The highest tower's in Rocky's court yard,
For with the freshmen lives the living bard.
lxxviii.
All the greatest things must be tragedies,
For what is great but that which can survive,
But that which has come forth from the vast seas,
But the genes that have prevailed, stayed alive.
To stay alive one must use energy,
The higher the tower, the more power,
The more order, the more entropy,
That one may be sweet, the rest grow sour,
And so the winners, they define the God,
And say that God has created the winners,
But good youth perceives the winners are flawed,
Entropy makes winners greater sinners.
By this duality we have evolved,
About this paradox we still revolve.
lxxix.
What is it I missed, they all must wonder,
To be so close and yet, so far away,
To have felt the wind, and heard the thunder,
Though never seen a lightning bolt split the grey.
To have written volumes and volumes of words,
No where is there a thought worth remembering,
The music they feel, they can not make heard,
Sisyphus's meaningless labouring.
My consciousness in this dance must be lead,
By yours, and while it is I 'll write the poem,
Till someone new comes, hears the things I said,
And transcends them to touch the heaven's dome.
I'll say hello as I plummet on down,
Oh, I shall hide my melted wings, and drown.
lxxx.
Man shall not live by melody alone,
He shall have thoughts and ideas, said in words,
And he shall engrave these treasures in stone,
He shall defend these treasures by his sword.
Which is why but melody's innocent,
For it does not pretend to have reason,
There is no man who can say what is meant,
By Beethoven's pastoral, changing seasons.
These masterpieces form the nucleus,
Of cultures and natural selection,
The emulators become all of us,
We see by the genius's vision.
Oh, don't memorize how to touch the keys,
Do what you feel; strike wherever you please.
lxxxi.
Show them the Parthenon, they'll level it,
And call the broken rubble modern art,
Gaudy and pretentious they see sonnets,
Free verse rings true to the modern heart.
Forget pondering 'bout philosophy,
They've reduced dead white males to a fashion,
Deconstruction and relativity,
These are today's culture leach's passions.
Theories founded on that which they refute,
Critics try to tell you how to compose,
I thank them for trying to make me mute,
Without them this pain wouldn't become prose.
I 've seen them do the starving artist in,
I won't lose; their game I don't want to win.
lxxxii.
There's a ghost in the garage, Bethany,
You know I'd never go there alone,
Lately the scare-crow's been acting funny,
And Rufus dug up an odd looking bone.
On the porch, I don't recognize that pumpkin,
While raking leaves I had these strange pangs,
I looked up-- it gave me a big buck toothed grin,
Next time I looked it was like baring fangs.
There's a message on the machine from Grandma,
I was glad to hear she was doing fine,
But I liked her better when she lived with Grandpa,
On this side of the tracks, above the county line.
Though I've watched TV, this is the strangest I've seen,
I guess it must be getting close to Halloween.
lxxxiii.
It's a paradox that the greatest mind,
Of Socrates was not compatible,
with life-- reason to lie he could not find,
Sentenced to permanent sabbatical.
So the good poet must offer a lie,
Like Plato offered in his dialogues,
He had Socrates, removed, wonder why,
While he himself became a pedagogue.
Plato was a poet, a creator,
Naturally he wanted competition banned,
So he lied and said his truths were greater,
Gave his prophecies to be taught to men.
In the same breath he rhymed and banned poets,
So the coward's the same as the stoic.
lxxxiv.
When they kill you in the name of freedom,
Then don't you know it's time to burn them down,
It's a democracy, not a kingdom,
There is no such thing as the tyrant's crown.
So just who do you think you are, sick witch?
What makes you think I must be loyal to you?
Just because you lease your mind out to the rich,
Doesn't mean you can tell me what to do.
But you're a pawn in today's tyranny,
You're a beggar-- can't be a chooser too,
You're a fake in a university,
I went there and learned these facts to be true.
It's but political, get out the knife,
Got to kill if you want to keep your life.
lxxxv.
It's so much more than just true love with you,
I felt true love in our first autumn kiss,
But now that I look back, behold past's view,
It's the friendship I found with you I miss.
For compared to friends, true loves are common,
They come and go with the wink of an eye,
But true friends are not so easily won,
They must walk upright, while loves sometimes lie.
But friendship lacking love's void of romance,
And love without friendship's a losing race,
I guess I lucked out in this game of chance,
To have found both within your pretty face.
Though miles and mountains keep us apart,
Neither distance nor time can thwart my heart.
lxxxvi.
Marie, I wonder if you think of me,
As much as I 've been thinking upon you,
Nothing I 'd like better than you to see,
But I 've got exams and homework to do.
But nowhere in quantum can I find truth,
Nor the feeling I find talking to you,
Only in your brown eyes do I find proof,
And inspiration for the things I do.
And so for the moment I turn away,
But it's only so I can turn again,
Of these things that to you I 'd like to say,
I 'll set my thoughts down for you with my pen.
At this moment I wonder what you do,
Are you thinking of me, or someone new?
lxxxvii.
All you adults getting naked up there,
On the silver screen-- don't entertain me,
All the blood, guts, and nudity you share,
With the children in the land of the free.
So you think I'm a just an animal?
Do you know that which you are creating?
We're more than consumers shopping your mall,
Gettin' bored watching you masterbating.
When you're done with us, what shall we have left?
After your reign, what shall drive the economy?
Of our souls and meaning we'll be bereft,
To massacre each other we'll be free.
The context is gone for deconstruction,
You've done your job-- now mine is construction.
lxxxviii.
Hold me back girl, don't want to ruin it,
Don't want to make us fall over the edge,
Cause I 've learned there's a natural limit,
That governs how much you're allowed to pledge,
Don't want to hurt you, I want to be sure,
That my heart once again belongs to me,
Buildings crumble upon foundations impure,
I want something different for you and me.
For there's a sincerity about you,
That I admire, would like to have myself,
It seems you're so fundamentally true,
And yet, there's too, that mysterious stealth.
Never been so deep so quick with a girl,
I fear to touch it, and see it unfurl.
lxxxix.
I fear all the small minds in high places,
That through blind conformity rose above
Others who thought and looked beyond the faces,
Those who did not fit in a pre-made groove.
I know a boy who took easy classes,
He made all A's and they said he was smart,
You know the different folk he bashes,
Good books grow evil when used by bad hearts.
Words are warped in a mind's tiny context,
In fits of paranoia he strikes out,
He feels strength when debasing words are flexed,
The people follow his murderous shout.
But movements are more than a single man,
He's but the spark, the people are his fan.
xc.
Esoteric mystery, sixth of June,
Warm smell of marigolds, a worn path's dust,
Over Pine's spire, the rising full moon,
High on the innocence of teen-age lust.
Thursday of dead week, before reunions,
Haunted by deserted dreams of the past,
Can you hear ghost music from the dark rooms?
When you were young you believed it would last.
Youngpixie girl, walking with her father,
Arm around her, he points to the door,
"If I could do it again, I 'd go further,"
He looks at her, chooses the thought to ignore.
Oh, here we learned all truths are bitter sweet,
That eternity too is something fleet.
xci.
You're in the jungle, boy, of Princeton U,
For one hundred grand we'll show you the way,
The Great Books are all gone, they were the few,
Outnumbered by what the tenured priests say.
We're here for revenge, to set it all right,
With those crimes you've comitted 'gainst women,
Got our economists the rules to write,
You're not diverse enough to hold a pen.
An individual, you'll never do,
We need the mindless for beauracracy,
You've got a defect, you think there's a true,
There's not, but for what we need you to see.
We're here to promote peace, equality,
Sorry, you must die-- we can't let you be.
xcii.
Man, the great political animal,
Must spend a life believing in his lies,
From the cradle to his last funeral,
He fabricates a reason each day to rise.
And yet too these reasons are the truth,
As beautiful as the November rain,
Aroma of the pink blossoms of youth,
As real as heartbreak, the first lost love's pain.
The body gives the mind reason for reason.
Though ideals are sacrificed for beauty,
It's not really sacrifice-- changing seasons,
It's the rule of nature's reality.
Whatever shall happen shall happen-- I know,
Whether or not you choose to think it so.
xciii.
Eternal vigilance: Liberty's price,
The hand of power is our enemy,
A despot wielding virtue as a vice,
Democracy becomes a tyranny.
She exists on the premise of liberal thought,
In this country founded upon free speech,
These ideals for which yesterday's men fought,
These God-given rights she herself does breech.
Oh, it is not her fault, for she can't see,
The paradox of tragic irony,
To be the poet queen of the free,
One must possess humble responsibility.
Democracy rises from tyranny,
Tyranny gives birth to democracy.
xciv.
What do we do with the old love sonnets?
Do we save them for Grand Children to find?
Will they nag us, like yesterday's regrets?
Or grow dusty with memories in our mind?
Oh, either way, it's a losing battle,
One more sign of time's relentless arrow,
The finest verse, and meaningless prattle,
Both disappear and leave me with sorrow.
But heart-ache, and oh, beautiful sorrow,
They fill me with hope, give me a reason,
That I, I may yet find her tomorrow,
Change has brought me round to the green season.
The words are lost and so is my ink pen,
Ah! But look, the paper's a leaf again.
xcv.
Girl, you're gettin' good at cryin' and moanin',
You practice so much every single day,
I must keep you around to hear your groanin',
It's bringing me down, everything you say.
What I don't understand is why you blame me,
Told you a thousand times, you're free to go,
The lighter side I've tried to help you see,
But you're dedicated to the morbid show.
Did you ever stop to think and wonder,
That what's killing you is pot's phoniness?
Though it's not my fault you blindly blunder,
You'll hate me 'cause to me your secrets you confess.
So go away girl, my mind's bad for you,
You drown in it-- stay in your shallow view.
xcvi.
Thou shall not steal nor commit adultery,
Then why have some more while others less,
If all men were created equally?
What they believe's different from what they confess.
Superficial order they interpret,
Find ten thousand ways to justify cause,
Adults learn the childhood truths to forget,
They hide their secret-- they don't believe in laws.
But the law of nature which drives them on,
To breed as our forefathers did so well,
They own survivng genes, all others are gone,
To win evolution wins life, not hell.
So the elite use the ten commandments to steal,
In their dark minds they separate ideal and real.
xcvii.
Salinger's verve she does not understand,
By law then, he can not be a writer,
As by Plato, all the poets were banned,
'Cause he couldn't explain their light brighter.
So often a great man lies behind his words,
Lies are safer than truths think animals,
He bans rhyme, rules with logic's double edged sword,
Icy order's instilled by the devil.
Republics can't be ruled by philosopher kings,
Philosopher kings will never exist,
Love of knowledge and power are different things,
Knowledge is used for power, when they're mixed.
It's tyrant's instinct that all should be banned,
That one fears that one does not understand.
xcviii.
Who would have ever thought that the oppressed,
Bleeding hearts would have risen to power,
Yesterday's outcasts become today's best,
Old ideals by present actions do sour.
For what man can resist the temptation,
To follow the call of natural law,
To set aside words of contemplation,
To find perfection in what he called flaw.
Blessed are those who know it's all a game,
They discern the truth from what is spoken,
Blessed are the heartless, who feel no shame,
When rules they made by themselves are broken.
Damned are the sensitive, and those who see,
Paradox in to be or not to be.
xcix.
I wish I could find the words to reach you,
But I 'm older, and I 'm not so certain,
That there is anything that words can do,
To reach behind your mind's iron curtain.
For I see I can't say what I believe,
Whenever I am conversing with you,
And you think that my poems do too much grieve,
I can't share this with you, why I feel rue.
Mountains are highest, seen from the valley,
You can't write if you have nowhere to climb,
Heaven's found at the end of the dark alley,
Fighting the futility of fleeting time.
But I feel my words pushing you away,
A bit further with everything I say.
c.
To see it all is not an advantage,
For then you are unlikely to conform,
To what the masses arbitrate is sage,
You see the capriciousness of the norm.
But the minds of men make few connections,
For they use the same words without the thought,
Once I was fooled-- thought they saw abstractions,
The abstract by conformity isn't bought.
There is no way to imitate a laugh,
To sing words that one does not understand,
Or to follow ideals with a blind lies wrath.
Conformity won't make a stick a wand.
To see it all will send you to your grave,
But you'll go knowing there's nothing to save.
ci.
You wondered how it could ever happen,
How the words we read came from once banned pens,
Beliefs we heed came from crucified men,
You wonder how, and it happens again.
The Prophet dies and the vultures descend,
Empty men fill themselves with the power,
Very same men who killed Him in the end,
Marry the dead, inherit the dower.
But he forgave, for they never felt more,
Than what the bestial feels for its prey,
Cold machines use pieces of prophet's lore,
To kill the living prophet of today.
It's not in a book, no, it's living hate,
No amount of wonder can change this fate.
cii.
They must make superficial distinctions,
Because deeper their perceptions can't see,
Finding faults in color and religion,
Godless beasts without humanity.
Watch out! They speak of culture and science,
But their rhetoric contributes neither,
If they had beauty, they'd prefer silence,
Over killing the world's weak with ether.
And what is weak, but the man who can't find,
A restraint when he looks into his soul,
A melody when he looks in his mind,
To keep him from falling in his black hole.
The strongest are the ones who can turn away,
From glory and fame, to the calm, dull day.
ciii.
Some day you'll read me, wonder what you saw,
In my poems that Southern November night,
Words of mysticism, without a flaw,
Upon forgotten feelings, words shed light.
Something in those lines transcended the page,
Joined a magic element in your soul,
They all combined and there was born a rage,
Out of the infinitely deep black hole.
A melody where there'd been none before,
A sculpture where there had been only stone,
A tale where yesterday there'd been no lore,
You knew your feelings weren't felt alone.
But alas, those feelings were long ago,
In some one new my poems take root and grow.
civ.
The insecurity we inherit,
From our parent's flauntings in the face of fear,
As children we don't want a part of it,
Truth, fairness, and justice we hold too dear.
For we awaken, to a world unfair,
We scream to our parents to stop lying,
But they feed us on faith, insist on prayer,
It makes no sense, though neither does dying.
There is no meaning, and yet we must live,
So we play along with our parent's game,
And to live in this world, our lives we give,
With our lies the children we kill and maim.
The only pure faith is faith in oneself,
Not borrowed from men, or books on a shelf.
cv.
About just having felt the magic spark,
I write these words with beauty's thought of you,
Last night well on into the morning's dark,
Our long gazes kindled a flame anew.
Your soft brown eyes have found a way inside,
Every thought is punctuated with you,
From love's fate to fall there's nowhere to hide,
You're the queen of my dreams and all I do.
Brown eyes with blond hair is a thing so rare,
But without you here it is too rare to bear,
My heart's lost in hopes of moments we'll share,
About all else today, I can not care.
Unsure how you feel, in secret I 'll write,
Hoping our paths will cross again one night.
cvi.
One morn I heard the perfect wind blowing,
The rustle of ten thousand leaves woke me,
I felt it was time I must be going,
I walked outside and the feeling left me.
A bright autumn day, but how many times,
Had I followed the beckoning wind!
Captured it in my mouth, and made it rhyme,
Only to find there was nothing to find.
The wind it blows right around this great big globe,
Only to return to whence it began,
Exactly like me when I myself probe,
The greater the dream, the bigger circle I ran.
But at each moment the tangent's a straight line,
So I rig my sail, reach for the divine.
cvii.
You can't play a flute, nor a piano,
What makes you think you can play upon me?
The answers to my questions, you don't know,
Yet you act like you wrote my mystery.
You can't tell wind which direction to blow,
And yet you try to manipulate me,
You've never been to heaven, or below,
So what makes you think you see what I see?
You never cared 'bout contemplating,
How can you be sure what I am thinking?
You just weigh me down when I am floating,
Yet you think you can save me from sinking.
In your empty world all the lies are true,
Your soul's wafer thin, I see right through you.
cviii.
Didn't like poetry, didn't like books,
But she read them, it was the thing to do,
She liked new shoes, and getting all the looks,
How could I love something that wasn't true?
Oh babe, you left me a long time ago,
Each time I saw you enjoy your vanity,
Who I really am, you never could know,
Cause beyond your own face you'll never see.
Same old story, her visage's glory,
Blinded me to the emptiness within,
But beauty is truth, and truth is beauty,
Hence sin must be good, and all good must sin.
Funny, it was your vanity I loved,
And away from you by it I was shoved.
cix.
You can bury your head deep in Shakespeare,
Hope his magic will rub off on your mind,
There's a hidden element in a seer,
That makes genius impossible to find.
Art comes to life and gives lucid meaning,
Immersed in the rivers flowing through your head,
Only as good as your private dreaming,
Shades and nuances remain dry and dead.
It is the artist who imitates life,
Life means something different to everyone,
The better the art, the closer to life,
All points of view contribute to its sum.
So if you try to write, break all the rules,
In creativity rules are for fools.
cx.
She broke my heart, the music started playing,
Lying, cheating, stealing, that's all she did,
I guess in these parts I won't be staying,
Of the things that once brought me down I 'm rid.
Why it took so long, I will never know,
It was based purely on her made up face,
I once feared so to think she'd ever go,
Now I 've let her run, never liked the race.
Oh, but it still hurts me deep down inside,
I turn the music up, but it can't drown,
The feeling that to myself I have lied,
She's flying free tonight, it's me that's down.
There's something deep in me yet to be faced,
Before her pretty face can be erased.
cxi.
The day was grey, dusk fell and broke the cloud,
A blue patch in pink, I saw my way out,
Toni Iommi was playing so loud,
I screamed but I couldn't hear myself shout.
Here came Satan, barreling 'round the bend,
He was singing, bringing down the darkest night,
He smiled at me, tipped his hat, said, "hey friend,
I 'll be back for you, go ahead and write."
He sped on by, the dust got in my eyes,
But I had seen the hole up in the sky,
There had to be a way to beat this guy,
With a pen I know it's useless to try.
For all written words end up with your foe,
And straight to Beezlebub's purpose they go.
cxii.
With one hand one God, one hand on the bomb,
Physicists became the reigning poets,
Of Black holes, our origin, time's womb,
But by elegant math could we know it.
Books giving a brief history of time,
How the universe began, how we became,
Cleanly explained, with no mention of rhyme,
A removed, peaceful description so tame.
For lest we forget our own conception,
Forces that drew our formers together,
The envy and fear at love's inception,
Words of hope and belief, the heart's lever.
In math you lose the soul's reality,
There's no Schrodinger's equation for me.
cxiii.
I know a man who got a diploma,
And confused it with an education,
And then he went on to study the law,
So he could offer an explanation.
Of why he is rich, and why you are poor,
Why he is sane, and how you are crazy,
How you've become defiled while he's still pure,
How hard he's worked while you've been but lazy.
For you've got nothing, and no food to eat,
You took Socrates and Van Gough to heart,
So you've joined the lonely maverick elite,
The living poet, creator of art.
Rejection filled decades of frustration,
Is the price of highest education.
cxiv.
At the Cottage Club we turned at the gate,
Like we had seven thousand times before,
Paused for a brief moment outside to wait,
To bid my farewell to this closing door.
What is anything that you say or know,
When you put it over eternity?
The final quotient's equal to zero,
When you divide life by infinity.
And yet in those walls I knew forever!
What a cruel trick did youth play upon me,
To make me think that things would change never,
Cruel is all laughter, friendship and beauty.
At life's paradox we can cry or laugh,
It's nothing, yet it's all we'll ever have.
cxvi.
The sky never told me how to write poems.
So why do you insist on doing so?
For there's more poetry in the starry domes,
Than we'll ever see from down here below.
There's a mystery in all our actions,
That mocks our scholarly contemplations,
The ones who accept answers with satisfaction,
Are the ones who lack imagination.
So what right do you have as a teacher,
To tell me the way I must create?
When all art is an intrinsic feature,
No amount of study can change one's fate.
But I guess all these things you might not see,
Without them you'll never truly know me.
cxvii.
When the clouds blow across the autumn moon,
Do you still deny that there exist ghosts?
When a fog crosses the sun at high noon,
To say there are no spooks, do you still boast?
When you answer the phone before it rings,
Do you still scoff at my superstition?
And if your vivid dream tomorrow brings,
Would you pass it off as intuition?
If I told you you were being followed,
Would you start looking over your shoulder?
In the dark, do you fear being swallowed?
There now, did you just feel it get colder?
There are more things in this heaven and earth
Then we'll ever know by our sense's dearth.
cxviii.
You say that the things I saw brought you down,
Oh, but beauty's in the beholder's eye,
It is the things you see that make you frown,
It's only your conscience that makes you cry.
Girl, it's not me you're trying to escape,
It's the void that surrounds all our dreaming,
But because I perceive the darkness gape,
It's at me that you direct your screaming.
But there's no turning back after that night,
The night which we fell in each other's arms,
To fall in love's to lose all wrong and right,
For love's high we trade all youth's perfect forms.
But you don't need perception I see,
Pretty, all you have to do is agree.
cxix.
Men of principle will philosophize,
That because we're just men we should be fair,
In absolutes where only God is wise,
We must refrain from passing judgement there.
They set their thoughts in book's written pages,
Because no one knows, we are all equal,
And up rise the leaching pedant sages,
You know that tragedy is their sequel.
They wield the book as a bloody weapon,
Take phrases out of context to oppress,
All the time thinking that they love God's sons,
Our intentions our actions confess.
But my eyes see that the liars prosper,
While the lie's burden honest men endure.
cxx.
Words are best when they do what but words can do,
When on the silver screen it can't be shown,
When music is too empty to be true,
When by but her face her thoughts can't be known.
But to use words to describe surfaces,
Shimmering spectacles of graphic sex,
Poem's words are corrupted in these places,
These temptations to where the weak mind trecks.
For who would take their words back in the cave,
Once elightened to the realm of noble thought?
To whore oneself, and be the mass's slave,
When with words a higher truth could be sought.
They see no difference between random and art,
White noise is nature; music's in my heart.
cxxi.
If life isn't fair from the beginning,
Is it fair to lie if you're not winning?
If you see that the preacher is sinning,
Should you join the villains and keep grinning?
You know it would be easy to fit in,
If you didn't have that crazed notion of justice,
If in little lies you didn't see sin,
If you preached different from what you practice.
But with a soul you've got a lot to lose,
It's easiest to live your life half blind,
Without insight's doubt it's easy to choose,
Without a mind reasons are easy to find.
But there's nothing but the beautfiful true,
So cast away all thought, feelings shall do.
cxxii.
Babe, you know you keep me moving along,
One look in your eyes, I know what to say,
Babe, you know you keep me singing my song,
You smile and I know the right notes to play.
'Cause I don't see much more in this cold world,
Than hills rolling off into purple hues,
Yellow sunflowers into blue skies swirled,
Morning's golden harvest sprinkled with dew.
You know it's from you that springs my belief,
in my words, because you believe in me,
Out of the old oak grows the living leaf,
Out of the green leaf grows the grand old tree.
She said we're happy as we'll ever be,
And then she turned, she walked away from me.
cxxiii.
They say we're made of quarks, leptons, and force,
We have properties of mass, energy,
Well so does a tree, and so does a horse,
It is but man who's made of poetry.
They believe in grand unification,
That the goal is to explain all as one,
Well I say death is our shared destination,
So in death all unification's done.
In both words and science the poet lies,
Descriptions reflecting order within,
But only the fool believes he is wise,
For saints could never be born without sin.
Blind animals preaching divinity,
Won't find words nor equations for me.
cxxiv.
You get old and find a place to fit in,
Yesterday's rebellious ideals congeal,
Somehow you justified a way to sin,
You can only think where you used to feel.
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss,
Lear, you blow and rage, beating down the youth,
They've got nothing, life is not a great loss
For youth, if it can not be lived with truth,
For the young man's riding against the wind,
And your breath, you know it's growing stale,
One fine morning you wake up and you find,
That coming for your ship is the white whale.
The things you once chased now turn upon you,
What you did to them, Moby does to you.
cxxv.
What difference does it make if we describe?
The laws that govern heavenly motion,
But that it can be used to oppress tribes,
Life forms of a less noble devotion.
If we were but in it for the thrill,
Then to ourselves we would keep our insights,
But if not praised by others then we're nill,
So we make spectacles of inner lights.
We've always worshipped the best description,
It is but a description of the self,
Clearest mirrors give the best reflections.
And in mere reflection, we find belief.
But all the words, they don't really matter,
Next to the rain's steady pitter-patter.
cxxvi.
I traded my dreams to see her brown eyes,
Early one sunny Saturday morning,
A sleepless night of asking myself why,
Feelings that dawned on me without warning.
What had I been trying to say to her?
What had she been trying to say to me?
I guess the feelings gave us both a scare,
Fearing that this would end no differently:
That we were headed down that one way road,
That had hurt us to walk down once before,
Love may fade away, or love may explode,
Either way, soon our love shall be no more.
I fear these things, and these things I must say,
Just as her nature takes my breath away.
cxxvii.
When we met I saw a truth in your eyes,
Then I watched the world kick you in the head,
When you're down it's easy to buy into lies,
The eighteen year old I once met is dead.
Don't fear or hate me, just 'cause I'm different,
And I won't hate you just because you're the same,
It's not by choice that by cruel wind we're bent,
No one controls the dice in this cruel game.
And I know my words shall never reach you,
I guess I must just write them for the wind,
As it blows these long dark storm clouds on through,
May it blow my poems along to someone kind.
Honesty's a lonely place to be,
But it's lonlier to pretend to agree.
cxxix.
Won't you take me one more time to the extreme,
Show me a smile in which I can believe,
Make me an illusion, give me a dream,
Bring to life this summer solstice's eve.
I've been broken down so many times,
But it always gets me back to the ground,
Learned that flying too high, too long's a crime,
You've got to walk the miles for your soul to be found.
But now yesterday's pain is receding,
As youth's full moon's tide has begun to ebb,
Show me there's more than feeding and breeding,
Something after the grave, before the crib.
Science and logic mean nothing to me,
Without your mystical reality.
cxxx.
How can you tell a youth he cannot write?
Tell him to pick up his books and to go?
To tell him that he's not creating right?
When what true art is nobody can know?
Oh, you cold, heartless witch, so full of fear,
Of the truth within a nineteen year old,
It wasn't his fault he was born a seer,
It isn't his fault you are growing old.
A crime against nature that you should teach
creativity when you're talentless,
You are who you are because you're a leach,
You can't see your sins, you'll never confess.
I forgive the blind, for running in to me,
To avoid collision, it's up to me.
cxxxi.
Riding two on a bike on red brick walks,
And I kissed her on the back of her head,
I don't remember about what we talked,
But the feeling remains from what was said.
A tender dusk, she asked me why I smiled,
But what was so funny I couldn't say,
The air tasted fresh, I felt like a child,
Along Chapel Hill's red bricks we found a way.
Cause she puts me at ease, and makes me feel,
So many things I lost away back there,
Where nobody talked, nobody seemed real,
About finer things no one seemed to care.
On my bike there'll always be room for two,
Just as long as the second one is you.
cxxxii.
I called you back, because I thought maybe words,
Could let you know the way I feel 'bout you,
But the words we draw sometimes become swords,
We hurt those to whom we want to be true.
And I don't understand the way it works,
When anything I say, the opposite's true,
Words I feel come forth, but the meaning shirks,
The words don't transmit the intended view.
And without confidence in expression,
We turn away from words, towards silence,
Afraid to reach out, to make confession,
About vulnerable hearts we build a fence.
It's hard to let someone new in, to share,
When you fear they might not always be there.
cxxxiii.
She called me out in the hall to stab me,
In the back, where my classmates couldn't see,
Looked me in the eye, said I couldn't be,
A writer, for my style's immaturity.
She said I wrote of too many ideas,
I asked her which ideas I should remove,
She asked me nicely, to get my books please,
Into remedial writing to move.
Bitter spite behind her calm temperament,
The big nurse from over the cuckoo's nest,
I smiled and thanked her for her compliment,
I was flattered to learn I was the best.
Went back in, sat down, enjoyed the circus,
As she whipped their minds into nothingness.
cxxxiv.
Last night I read some old sonnets of mine,
And I think I know how you must have felt,
To see the lost feelings frozen in rhyme,
Wonder if to us the same fate would be dealt.
But I know it's not just any one thing,
At one time we can only know one thought,
And though the truth in words we try to sing,
The true truth only melody has got.
But when the sun dives low, I think of her,
And late at night, alone, it's her I miss,
Cause in her eyes I have seen something there,
When I kiss her, there is a depth I kiss.
You know everyone has their mysetry,
I guess mine's that I say less than I see.
cxxxv.
I'm out of here girl, you're bringin' me down,
No need to be romantic anymore,
That short skirt, every night goin' down town,
I ask myself what are we talkin' for.
'Cause we can love, but still you're gonna flirt,
It's not your fault-- these days you've got no choice,
If I let you in too far it would hurt,
I keep my thougts to myself, save my voice.
You want me so badly to love your soul,
I can't do it if you don't do it first,
It's not easy girl, findin' the right role,
When with such keen perception you are cursed.
Right now I can't answer to anyone,
You can't slow down, girl, when you're on the run.
cxxxvi.
The old guard is trying to beat me down,
Though I respect them, it will do no good,
Upon their work time's tide begins to frown,
Their free verse does half of what a poem should.
For years now rhyme's been viewed as pretentious,
What better word is there for a critic,
Instead of creative, they're contentious,
Yet they claim the flame of the artist's wick.
From the midst of chaos best springs order,
Deconstruction gives art a chance to rise,
Reason and rhyme define a bold border,
Standards for calibration of the eyes.
I know to pass judgement would be a sin,
I 'll be quiet, and let the best poem win.
cxxxvii.
She assigns books written by all her friends!
Where is Melville? Where is Shakespeare? Where is Twain?
Literature for her is a means to an ends,
Sans thought, sans feeling, sans ideas, sans pain.
Her endorsement is on the back cover!
Her political game has no place here,
In thought my fathers were far above her!
But she prospers while dead lie the seers.
Oh, there is anger burning in my veins,
Oh, this poor world has been turned upside-down,
Political puppets judging our brains,
Be vigilant! Let not the poet drown.
Yet somehow I cannot justify cause,
For I feel that I'm breaking the same laws.
cxxxviii.
I listened to that tape you once made me,
I know there was a time when you believed,
That there was something good in my poetry,
The other night I feel you felt deceived.
That my poetry was a game to me,
Cause I was smiling, you were feeling down,
By words you made your feelings known to me,
I read your poems, and the words made me frown.
So I had to share the feeling with you,
About the forgotten, we needed to talk,
I feel it's worth it, with you to be true,
To walk where with others we fear to walk.
But you know that I can't help feeling bad,
To think you think my poems make the world sad.
cxxxix.
I 'm sorry I ever entered your world,
Gave to you my depressing poetry,
I 'm sorry you blamed me for what's unfurled,
Sorry you blame me for your misery.
But you may as well, 'cause I 'm different,
You might as well condemn me to fiery hell,
Your anger at the world upon me vent,
Use my name for the reason we all fell.
The prophets they'll kill as they killed before,
Cause he wanted peace to last forever,
He made politicians resemble whores,
Threat of truth, his life they had to sever.
Politicians and prophets are best friends,
They feed each-other, and worms in the end.
cxl.
Now suppose we have a hole in a slate,
A photon from a source passes on through,
And it darkens a grain on a film plate,
To say it went through the hole would be true.
Several photons pass through, we wait a bit,
And quite a simple pattern we do see,
A bright spot directly behind the slit,
Fading away as you move outwardly.
We choose to add an additional slit,
The photon seems to have a decision,
It must choose one of them through which to fit,
For photons are not allowed to fission.
But now there are fringes, common to waves!
In this manner, can particles behave?
cxli.
What's seen is an interference pattern,
Which is common to every type of wave,
On the vast ocean or from a lantern,
This is the way every wave does behave.
Though you think particles blacken the spot,
Between the source and plate light is a wave,
As to its whereabouts we can say not,
Such is the way reality behaves.
These ghostly facts are true of all matter,
Electrons and protons and you and me,
We're but empty waves that somehow matter,
Striving to comprehend reality.
Wavy winds blow, our consciousness is lit.
It makes up our mind, our minds make up it.
cxlii.
"The question is to be or not to be,
Whether it is nobler within the mind,
To believe in indeterminacy,
Or refute that God plays dice in the wind.
Are there many worlds, or only just this one?
And is Schrodinger's cat alive or dead?
Of p and x, can we only know one?
And of Wigner's good friend, what can be said?"
He smiled and said, "no question, no answer,
This above all, science holds to be true,
Love is in the mind of the romancer,
And the kind of love determines the view."
He looked up to the sky, a sky few see,
A sky filled with a child's curiosity.
cxliii.
It is in man's nature to seek meaning,
In the realm of his fellow peer's vision,
All men's endeavors and vital dreaming,
Inhabits the frame work of tradition.
When prophetic soul's are held in borders ,
The pressure inspires those souls to arise,
The offspring becomes their complex order,
A masterpiece to the witness's eyes.
He speaks of feelings and God and honor,
Leads a revolution for the true and just,
Abhorred by the ones holding the power,
Loved by the ones feeling the oppressed lust.
Thousand lives given for equality,
That two thousand eyes never get to see.
cxliv.
The time has come for you to fly the nest,
I 'll miss you, so much with you I did grow,
Of all the memories, you're in the best,
Take them with you wherever you may go.
I 'll stay here, I have some writing to do,
Before I can voyage beyond today.
I hear the wind calling me to be true,
I feel the world's waiting for what I say.
So I guess this is our final good bye,
When you return I 'll no longer be here,
Oh, why can't we just love, and never cry?
Let us dry from our cheeks each-other's tear.
I won't forget you, though I grow older,
Yesterday is just over my shoulder.
cxlv.
Out running one night, I stopped by Holder,
A crystal memory hung in the sky,
I breathed in those cold stars of October,
I feel tiny lights whenever I sigh,
And think of that day, not so long ago,
Where each season was fresh, full of surprise,
My aspirations were facts I could know,
Mortality was cloaked in youth's disguise.
Oh yes, my mind wanders back to Holder,
For it was much more than just a dream there,
There in that courtyard once I did hold her,
I met her running in the cold fall air.
To this day the chance in that night lives on,
She's still here though that fall's leaves are long gone.
cxlvi.
The scenery grows barren down the road,
Caught between home and your destination,
Alone you shoulder your memory's load,
Alone with yesterday's fascination.
You're missing that oak tree you once did pass,
It's roots cracked the sidewalk where flowers grew,
But those flowers have all wilted, alas!
You'll turn to stone thinking on nothing new,
So look up to the sky, pick up your pace!
It's hard to dream when the future holds fear,
But if you look back on yesterday's face,
You know you will never get out of here.
Run boy! The rising wind's getting colder,
Run boy! Don't look back over your shoulder.
cxlvii.
I 'll make it-- I 'm rounding the final bend,
I see light at the end of this tunnel,
So many nights I feared it wouldn't end,
Now I 'm sad to see yesterday crumble.
Didn't know who I was, nor where I stood,
Afraid to do that which I might regret,
In everything there was both bad and good.
Pretty purple haze now, as the sun sets,
I think back to the start, so far away,
Oh, to know I 'm not me anymore,
The wide-eyed boy who saw all this to say;
He can't be found upon this brave new shore.
This virgin land is so beautifully strange,
And oh, you know how good it feels to change.
cxlviii.
Every artist poet is but a thief,
Stealing openly from all his subjects,
Taking credit for all of their beliefs,
Seeking sweet revenge for genius neglect.
So go right ahead and deconstruct me,
I 'd just as soon be put upon a throne,
Fans and critics use the art equally,
For both are cannibals of the soul's bone.
Since I 'm a thief, and you're a cannibal,
Then perhaps we can forgive each other,
Everything I write I take from you all,
And of your critiques I am the father.
As these words live within both you and me,
Then let the blame too be shared equally.
cxlix.
Fell asleep in a dream, awoke to this,
A cool windy wet grey November day,
Through the woods my face the damp leaves did kiss,
I realized this beauty my poems could say.
Broke into a run, jumping over logs,
Rode my second wind to the silver lake,
There I bent down and lifted the cold fog,
Gold shafts streamed through, the forest did awake,
The black oak trees, the squirrels planting more,
The sweet smell of the brown and yellow floor,
Been knocking forever on heaven's door,
Finally opened to hear this poet's lore.
Touch me and you'll see that nothing's there,
For I am him, the poet from nowhere.
cl.
I thought of you guys, and drew a deep breath;
I miss those days walking the winter beach;
Late college night thoughts laced with Love and Death;
The reality of youth we did teach.
Bob, Jim, Paul, Bill, I 'll keep you all with me,
For the morning dreams of life shape the day;
Through each-other's eyes we'll forever see,
Before I speak I 'll think of what you'd say.
As time's knife splits us along separate paths,
I greet my fate smiling, standing with friends,
Tomorrow's void will house echoing laughs,
Though they grow fainter, they will never end.
But more than friends faces, drowned in time's sea,
I miss youth's spark that once glowed within me.
cli.
Telling lies and stabbing me in the back,
What care I? I know that it's all not true,
It's because you feel that beauty you lack,
That makes you the dishonest route pursue.
You've got nothing on me, I 'm innocent,
They might believe your lies for a second,
Their sight distorted, their minds may be bent,
But by the truth the youth shall be beckoned.
You loved me friend, and I rejected you,
Which was the pretext for our history,
You hate me because I saw right through you,
They shall know-- they'll know that's the true story.
For the truth I can not apologize,
You never said you're sorry for your lies.
clii.
It rained on the day I was accepted,
My feelings went numb; my soul put on pause,
Addicted to being rejected,
Without anger, my mind was void of cause.
I lifted a pen, held it to paper,
But the wind wouldn't blow my hand along,
Burned out, I was no longer a shaper;
But a medium for depression's song.
I must lay my dried out dreams in the rain,
Be patient, fertilize them, watch them grow,
My art makes music from the wet grey pain,
And so I drown a little, for the show.
When the end becomes, there ends meaning's race,
It's not the kill, it's the thrill of the chase.
cliii.
Why do I see three spatial dimensions,
Does something intrinsic lie underneath?
Or is it but an invention's invention?
Like all facts founded on flesh's beliefs.
Can math define the entire universe,
With no equations for laughter and love?
It's but a cold, grey beauty, with no verse,
That's too solid to describe what's above.
But math led us to the fourth dimension,
Dislodged us from the cosmos's center,
Of quantum fields words can make no mention,
Without math, time's secrets one can't enter.
But with words and math, walking hand in hand,
We approach the day we will understand.
cliv.
Every little bit of fall is magic,
Even though you're so far away from me,
I know you feel each dying leaf's tragic,
While still believing the crisp air's beauty.
Just one year ago we walked hand in hand,
My red boot laces matching all the trees,
Through the woods to where the water meets land,
There we paused each day to watch the lake freeze.
Now the season's upon us once again,
Once again you are with me on our walks,
But instead of your hand I hold this pen,
And watch the wind, listening to it talk.
Our own autumns shall come in a short while,
Witnessing it with you makes life worthwhile.
clv.
In your eyes there is an independence,
That the leaders of society lack,
Leaders are slaves to what the common sense,
A train can only go where there lies a track.
But all you see are fickle boundaries,
That men lay down to hold on to power,
They drown in these imaginary seas,
And the salt of the deep wilts youth's flower.
The rambling spirit in you knows no homes,
Down the road you see mirages of cause,
The prophets make no sense, you choose to roam,
You found there's justice where there are no laws.
I know it's hard to walk this earth with eyes,
But it hurts more to compromise with lies.
clvi.
I 'd be a fool to attempt to hold on,
To anything that isn't permanent,
As I know from here I will soon be gone,
I 'm leaving before time charges me rent.
For men whose dreams are born into the past,
Are weighted down by yesterday's sorrows,
Believing they can make perfection last,
Regret taints their remaining tomorrows.
So I have learned to not become attached,
It becomes easier with each good bye,
I bid farewell before the feeling's hatched,
Still so young, and I have begun to die.
To fall in love again sure would be nice,
For what compares to a fools paradise?
clvii.
On the way to the institute forest,
I stopped on by the graduate tower,
I climbed the spiral staircase without rest,
Up high I saw a sight full of power:
The magnificent colors of the east,
The Maples and Ashes were all on fire,
To live forever at the very least,
Was an inspiration stronger than desire.
My lungs savored the air so fresh and pure,
A propeller airplane buzzed to my right,
Up there where a soul could of truths be sure,
As high up and free as a child's first kite.
The sun got low, the wind began to rise,
The day prepared to go, I blinked my eyes.
clviii.
Sad poems can't compare with crying guitars,
And I know words don't mean very much,
Superficial beauty makes today's stars,
These worshipped qualities, I don't have such.
But I know there's a final curtain call,
Even for the stars caught up in the blaze,
And though I know I 'll never have it all,
I 'll have myself to the end of my days.
For I only smile when I feel to laugh,
And I only rhyme where I see reason,
You can't get lost when blazing your own path,
With my own heart I commit no treason.
Oh, I know silence prevails in the end,
I 've come to accept him as my best friend.
clix.
To say Hamlet is this, or Hamlet's that,
Is but to make an unscrupulous bet,
For his character wears more than one hat,
One can only say Hamlet is Hamlet.
So often people have it figured out,
They have ambition, feel a direction,
Of justices and truths they sing and shout,
Striving to build eternal erections,
Acting actions with sanctimonious pride,
They flaunt goodwill upon this stage,
So sure they've chosen the right side,
Confined within their own minds they are sage.
To make sense out of life so easily,
Just goes to show how little one does see.
clx.
Can't you see what you're paving the way for?
Replacing substance with a selfish lie,
Don't you know that you're opening hell's door?
By your ideals our liberty shall die.
Wicked witch, teaching creativity,
Rewarding only what you understand,
It is a sign this culture's lost at sea,
That by you my poetry can be banned.
They tell me that you are educated,
Then how is it that this truth you don't see,
That when creativity is rated
by pedagogues, it is a tyranny.
When weak kill strong preaching equality,
They're but setting the stage for tyranny.
clxi.
To be honest at last, I don't belong,
Soon I 'll be leaving here, it won't be long,
I 'm just waiting 'till my chance comes along,
I 'm tired of this tune, I need a new song.
Finding a place has never been easy,
For lost souls who never know where they are,
There's no meaning for those who truly see,
For they see forever, as far as far.
I hate this game, I 've just got to break free,
I 've been beaten down, trodden, on this land,
Now I finally see a way to be me,
In the great wide open, I 'll make my stand.
You cut me down and lied, but I survived.
I just wish I 'd left before I 'd arrived.
clxii.
Though no one may ever read what I write,
To write wasted verse I have no choice,
For dreams of you awaken me at night,
And I ease the loneliness with this voice.
I saw love's secret in my moon shadow,
Flowers were growing in the sidewalk's cracks,
That's how I knew to go to your window,
It was spring, only you did my life lack.
I wrote a short story, gave it to you,
You accepted what magazines reject,
But only through you do I know it's true,
For romance is the proof of art's effect.
As long as I 'm unknown, I will be sure,
That I 'm free to write for you, and be pure.
clxiii.
Going back, going back to Nassau Hall,
I walked through this archway but yesterday,
I remember it strewn with leaves one fall,
To that blue eyed girl three words I did say.
And up these steps I carried all my dreams,
Five days to class, two nights up to the street,
I could be sure then, so real it still seems,
These ghosts of all the people I did meet.
I wish I 'd stolen the clapper back then,
And thrown it into Carnegie lake,
It's rung years away, left me with this pen,
To face a world where all youth time does take.
But I 'll be going back to old Nassau,
To search archways for a friend I once saw.
clxiv.
Laughter of friends, and familiar faces,
These good things too fade so quickly away,
Just as the dreams dressed in virgin laces,
Became lost in the sunrise of today.
And you know too well the end is coming,
Because night's always been followed by dawn,
Once my hopes had a chance of becoming,
But like last spring's buds, they too are all gone.
Then at the end, with but a moment left,
I met Bootsy and made one final friend,
Without her my memory would be bereft,
I see her smile when I think on the end.
I've left the people and trees of Princeton,
But with my spirit, Bootsy isn't done.
clxv.
Listening to child's questions of meaning,
Each day he set out to perform his task,
To make sense of our musical dreaming,
To look up to the sky, wonder, and ask.
Upon nature's secrets none can intrude,
Your efforts have brought us a step nearer,
Though the answers continue to elude,
The world is today a little clearer.
Without a pen, it would have been tragic,
For we'd exist without your inscriptions,
With pens you eternalized your magic,
Giving us your inspired descriptions.
And through your books of physics and Black Holes,
You shall inspire wonder in future souls.
clxvi.
God plays with dice to father the weather,
Chance prevailed so that you and me may be
Fortune brought Princeton and I together,
And there I met friends for eternity.
May the truth of youth forever be young,
For the awakening years guide the way,
As we march on to the songs we once sung,
We stand vigilant by what we did say.
Magic as youth's I 'll never meet again,
It defies the powers of description,
And though I now humbly pick up my pen,
True life resides within no inscription.
Oh, I could tell many a good story,
But words are void of yesterday's glory.
clxvii.
Hey boy, you've got a light in your dark eyes,
Reminds me of a man I once knew well,
When he was young, time he thought he'd defy,
Time took his youth, gave him stories to tell.
But I don't want to bore you with details,
I 'll let the lines on my face tell it all,
Oh, boy, next to time all our young dreams fail,
All monuments man erects soon will fall.
But what use has your youth got for my truth?
I 'd give it all to be unwise again,
From the cold current of time, stand aloof,
Believe once again in weilding a pen.
But it feels good to rest, to dream, to sleep,
For these aged bones, time's hill is too steep.
clxviii.
Oh girl, if I said to you I loved you,
Would you turn from me, walk the other way?
Oh girl, if I told you I needed you,
Would you leave me alone to face the day?
I remember feeling oh so lonely,
A silver lining nowhere could I see,
Then came you girl, and oh so suddenly,
The clouds lifted, and I saw beyond me.
The horizon on the sun is winning,
Oh girl, just these three short words I must say,
So tell me, is this a new beginning,
Or is it the end of a happy day?
I can't wait any longer, I must know,
Is it forever, girl, or must you go?
clxix.
I see a thought and I run to touch it,
Before It can retreat into my mind,
Then only in my dreams can I watch it,
While conscious, that same thought I 'll never find.
I grab the thought, to set it down in ink,
But some of it escapes, the chase begins,
I concentrate and attempt not to think,
The trick is to let the thought think it wins,
And wait quietly, patiently, until,
It comes running on by me once again,
Without a sound I move in for the kill,
And nail it to the paper with my pen.
But every time I capture thoughts in pen,
Upon the paper it has changed again.
clxx.
I awoke to the dripping of water,
Pulled my shade and the sun flooded my room,
I saw the valentine I had got her,
Icicles melting, my heart sprang from gloom.
I ran outside, across the white golf course,
Patches of green were rising to the top,
No socks nor shoes, I felt the cold snow's force,
On a green in the middle I did stop.
Where there'd been deer, there was only cold air,
It was too soon yet for spring to begin,
The wind bit my back, but I couldn't care,
For my heart was warm, and the sun would win.
She had asked me to go to tonight's dance,
What's a little weather next to that chance?
clxxi.
Some say it's providence, some call it chance,
Some say it's freewill, others call it fate,
Some profess it's a predetermined dance,
Where the odds against were given the weight.
What difference does it make if life's foregone?
Or if our volition has an effect?
Inspite of any beliefs, time rolls on,
The past no noble idea can affect.
All that matters is that we think we choose,
To create the lines we speak in this show,
And by words that we can avoid to lose,
Nothing's good or bad but thinking makes it so.
Chance or fate, it makes no difference to me,
Given either one, I 'll still strive to be.
clxxii.
To lose myself within the perfect serve,
Green fuzz against an immaculate blue,
Through the long hot rally, to keep my nerve,
Prove to the crowd my forehand holds true,
Then we engage in a cross court battle,
I don't dare to be the first to break it,
My legs grow heavy, begin to rattle,
Short bounce, I approach the net and take it.
I pop a volley in the corner deep,
But he guessed right, and he's been standing there,
I run down a lob, up a hill so steep,
It's got top spin, and I haven't a prayer.
But to lose a few games is no disgrace,
To win is to feel the wind in my face.
clxxiii.
With a little bit of perspiration,
All my dreams and memories can be mine,
For a poem's as free as inspiration,
And my soul resides within every line.
All that I humbly ask from any place,
Is that it give to me something to miss,
A magic day framed in winter's white lace,
Or a red haired girl who I once did kiss.
On a guitar, yesterday should be sought,
For in a poem, words get in the way,
Poetry's words may speak well of my thoughts,
But my feelings only music can say.
But musical talent left me alone,
And so I condemn my feelings to stone.
clxxiv.
Wish I could give you the perfect fall day,
With a clear blue sky and a cool north wind,
Then I'd bring some clouds in-- a touch of gray,
Without thunder nor rain they'd pass by kind.
The sky'd return to Carolina blue,
All 'round everything's perfectly vivid,
The cawing crows return from where they flew,
When green did spring from everything livid.
Oh, I wish I could make it tangible,
All the ineffable beauty of sight,
Wish I could catch all imaginable,
But it is only words that I can write.
But the air's crisp, my spirit's sharp again,
For October's mystique I raise my pen.
clxxv.
While there are still golden rays, there are ways,
Down summer dusty country boulevards,
Vision of the girl in cutoff jeans stays,
I try to capture her walk in these words.
The shimmering mirages up the road,
Borne upon the splintering tarred pavement,
A fuse running short, the earth shall explode,
And then what can it matter what was meant?
It's no trick to know this and persevere,
What else is there to do while we're waiting?
For the inevitable to premier,
Free from fear of choice, fear of fating.
But she's smiling as she passes me by,
Golden hair catching the dusk-- I know why.
clxxvi.
Every word of mine is plagiarized;
In people's hearts I 've seen them all before,
In their minds these thoughts have all been realized,
To defend a few men have gone to war.
Yet I struggle for a new direction;
Ignoring lessons of the proven past;
With words I build eternal erections,
Hoping forever my spirit will last.
But books are filled with dreams of men gone by;
I wonder if they felt futility,
Or if it's enough after your last sigh,
To have your remnants stored in a library.
Though there's no permanence in wielding pens,
I accept my fate to join the shelved men.
clxxvii.
I 've seen loneliness, creep up with a knife;
When there was no one to whom I could run;
Where an hour lasted an entire life,
Felt my solitude would never be done.
Surrounded by strange and empty faces;
There was nobody to laugh at my jokes,
I watched the dealer slip himself aces;
Bit my tongue, they were all in on the hoax.
Could not turn off the light, nor go to bed,
I sprinted along the night's empty streets;
To escape from my heart, filled with grey lead,
But loneliness ran as fast as my feet.
Oh I hope that tomorrow, brings my way,
A new face to whom all this I can say.
clxxviii.
Meet me at midnight on the printed page,
Come lawyers, come critics, come everyone,
Get out of the audience, up on stage,
With words it's time to have a little fun.
Like Ellis and Tartt, wanna be a star,
You expect them to think you earned your life,
But they know, my friend, who you really are,
The nihlism you write won't buy a faithful wife.
You think you're true, but your words are profane,
For the truth they never attempt to speak,
They warp and twist other humans to pain,
Behind the pretense you're so scared and weak.
Otherwise why would you devote your life,
To capitalizing on other's strife?
clxxix.
There's a paradox at the base of laws;
That they are made against half our nature,
We feel it to be evolution's flaw;
And seek to place constraints upon rapture.
Once ideas are institutionalized,
Natural selection quickly begins;
New interpretations are soon realized,
To help the interpreters have offspring,
Those that heed laws of guilt, shame, and duty,
Work all their lives for a two car garage;
Dying for a land of the brave and free,
While the free write the poems of the mirage.
Life evolved under tragedy's token;
Every rule made, is made to be broken.
clxxx.
Some beasts born with a curiosity;
Turn towards math for descriptions of nature,
Some having a taste for philosophy,
At a university seek stature.
Some beasts born with the talent to capture;
Paint upon the easel, mounting their prey,
Authors use a thousand words for pictures;
To become famous and secure rich pay.
Some beasts born with no beauty within them;
They manipulate the beholder's eye,
Political truths from fear's weakness stems;
With no truth from God it's easy to lie.
Choose to be and you'll see there's no way out;
To not be frees us forever from doubt.
clxxxi.
It's already gone before it started;
And perhaps our love is better that way.
Warmer than some from which I have parted;
A perfect memory of you will stay.
I 'm sure you know the lonely story well;
Golden evenings in the park turned to lead;
Promises of forever somehow fell;
Buried beneath time's snow, forever dead.
But I know you will find a lucky guy,
With him your love will blossom and mature.
From time to time I 'll think of you and sigh,
Our future behind us, untouched and pure.
For what lifts you up, when you're feeling sad,
More than dreams of that which you've never had.
clxxxii.
Economists don't create tangible wealth,
They're of the entertainment industry,
Great, educated men of kniving stealth,
In their show they know to never agree.
And don't be surprised if I don't believe,
Your vile myths about the national debt,
Somebody somewhere I feel does deceive,
To say I owe money I haven't spent yet.
Tomorrow's money's worth less than today's,
As tomorrow's money cannot be spent,
But we borrow it; today's bills it pays,
Let children worry 'bout tommorow's rent.
They borrow and spend to survive today,
Start a war and the debt with our lives pay.
clxxxiii.
When I hit the rock bottom of depression,
I can see nothing worth thinking about.
Senses thwarted by fogs of repression,
I awaken from dreams, laden with doubt.
Can't find a hand hold in reality;
Yesterday's music collapsed to white noise;
Without belief, I fear to chose to be,
The world is cruel to those of unsure poise.
For the whims of men, I can see no cause,
Within their society I can't live,
To fit, I ' have to put my soul on pause,
And to them, the use of my mind I 'd give.
If this depression be my eyesight's fee,
It's a small price to pay for being me.
clxxxiv.
The way the corners of your mouth turn down,
Cannot be so easily put aside,
In the moon's crescent lies your pretty frown,
From thoughts of you there is nowhere to hide.
With these words I hope I can pay you back,
For I can't help feeling I am in debt;
You have a beauty that most all do lack,
Next to it meter and rhyme are inept.
Soon some one will find the smile in your soul;
I regret in love I already fell;
To keep my honor is my foremost goal;
I 'll remain secret, know I wish you well.
To take credit for this wouldn't be true,
For this sonnet's lines were written by you.
clxxxv.
When there's a virus, living within love,
You can't stop sick feelings from coming on;
Pain in your breast sends you praying above;
Dark circles under your eyes with day's dawn.
At times you feel better, full of sunshine,
But it's not long 'till the wind blows in clouds,
Spreading plague across all that was divine;
Yesterday's memories all dressed in shrouds.
Calm once again, you are gripped with a heave;
You double forward, grabbing at the pain;
Your mouth opens, in two your soul is cleaved;
Diseased love washes away with the rain.
Of this youthful virus, time's rain's the cure,
May your next true love forever endure.
clxxxvi.
Why I write is because I know not why,
And in it I find the beauty of life.
Within this matter a consciousness lies;
Melodies from an invisible fife.
Fleeting dreams are born somewhere in the night;
Night becomes day, leading me to the grave;
Because it hurts to watch the fading light,
With words I try this awareness to save.
Not my awareness, for I own it not,
But an awareness of those yet unborn;
By whom the unanswerable will be sought;
Reading me, alone they won't be forlorn.
Each word replaced a tear I would have cried,
They're for you, when my mystery has died.
clxxxvii.
I do not wish to speak with you today;
I wish to talk to you a year ago.
Within I have saved you of yesterday;
She's the girl I wish to forever know.
Now she's gone; she's reached for the golden ring.
I wish her well and hope she finds her heart;
In her brave new world my eyes see nothing,
And so it's in the script that we must part.
Each word takes me further from what I mean;
Like the grey cool day I must be silent,
And search this empty earth for worthwhile dreams,
I have nothing, but my soul's not for rent.
Someday perhaps, our paths will cross again,
After all roads have been walked by this pen.
clxxxviii.
I 'm young and I don't want to fall in love,
For I 've already done it once before.
Love's labor I devote to what's above,
For beyond my passions I know there's more.
Oh, I realize we're all products of sex;
Each word is spoken to further our genes;
Cursing our lofty ideals with a hex;
From original sin life is not clean.
But above this stage on which we read lines;
There's the mystery of why we ponder,
Why we feel to bother to rise and shine,
In a world that's indifferent to wonder.
Man's reason holds the key to something more,
But the universe seems to lack a door.
clxxxix.
Oh once there were these visions in my mind;
Even the echoes are fading away;
The beauty is taken by time unkind,
But this dying dream inspires me to say:
I believed in sun sets while in your arms,
And the full moon became a reality,
I learned winter's the season which is warm,
But then you said you needed to be