Well, I've looked through your old records
And the books upon your shelves
And I have decided
That you and no one else could understand me
Could understand the things that make me who I am
And I wonder what you'd do
If you knew what I was thinking
That I've been sinking
In a liquid sea of love
Since I first saw you
You're the one I'm dreaming of
Sacred woman
Shamed and beaten
Shaman's offering refused
See, it all comes down to you
It really comes right down to you, girl
It's like my whole world's
Revolving around you
All I do
Is to make you happy
Maybe in this life could I wish
For such a balance
Girl, you simply take my breath away
And I won't miss it...
Sacred woman
Shamed and beaten
Shaman's offering refused
Graven image
Blamed and broken
Shaman's offering
Shaman's offering
Thursday, September 3, 2009
"The Wait"
I have waited patiently, of patience I am made
And many years have washed away the bitterness and hate
But I don't understand it yet
I can't forgive and just forget
Now nothing you could say or do could make up for the wait
The world has kept on turning since you burned mine to the ground
And I have stopped pretending what I've lost will ever be found
But I can't comprehend the fact
That you are never coming back
It's something I've accepted but the wait still drags me down
You took away my sunny day
Left me here with the little things that kill
A paper bag of broken promises
Some photographs
And a bottle of your pills
So I will wait patiently, of patience I am made
And if I never hear your voice again I'll call it a fair trade
For the dreams I stole away from you
Squandered in a day or two
And wasted on a memory that's left me here to wait
And many years have washed away the bitterness and hate
But I don't understand it yet
I can't forgive and just forget
Now nothing you could say or do could make up for the wait
The world has kept on turning since you burned mine to the ground
And I have stopped pretending what I've lost will ever be found
But I can't comprehend the fact
That you are never coming back
It's something I've accepted but the wait still drags me down
You took away my sunny day
Left me here with the little things that kill
A paper bag of broken promises
Some photographs
And a bottle of your pills
So I will wait patiently, of patience I am made
And if I never hear your voice again I'll call it a fair trade
For the dreams I stole away from you
Squandered in a day or two
And wasted on a memory that's left me here to wait
Warty's coming up from Texas Friday night and I'll be heading up to the City Saturday afternoon to spend the day with him. It's been at least a year since I've seen the guy and I'm very much looking forward to it. Will be quite nice to hang out with one of a select few people I call "best friends". It sucks that he lives in Texas now, but he's doing very well for himself there, so I can't hold it against him for not wanting to stay in OK.
The last time he was in town we joined Freddy and a slew of friends and acquaintances for a cook-out that turned into a very festive occasion. I know I'll never forget it. That was the day I found out that my tolerance level was not quite as high as I thought it was. Or, to be more accurate, the tolerance level was probably as strong as it had ever been, but it was assaulted with forces so powerful that it didn't stand a chance. It is my hope that I'll be able to test that level again this coming Saturday. Unless things have changed drastically in those quarters the chances of that happening are probably between 90-100% of happening (and that's in the upper 90s).
I wish I could buy some guitar strings, for the ones on my wood are ancient and somewhat dull. But I'm hoping to be able to spend my money on other things that weekend.
This is going to be so good for me.
The last time he was in town we joined Freddy and a slew of friends and acquaintances for a cook-out that turned into a very festive occasion. I know I'll never forget it. That was the day I found out that my tolerance level was not quite as high as I thought it was. Or, to be more accurate, the tolerance level was probably as strong as it had ever been, but it was assaulted with forces so powerful that it didn't stand a chance. It is my hope that I'll be able to test that level again this coming Saturday. Unless things have changed drastically in those quarters the chances of that happening are probably between 90-100% of happening (and that's in the upper 90s).
I wish I could buy some guitar strings, for the ones on my wood are ancient and somewhat dull. But I'm hoping to be able to spend my money on other things that weekend.
This is going to be so good for me.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
9 Months
My heart's delight
Razor groomed, baby's bottom
To glide my fingers across
Gripping, fascinated
You breathe in a sweet fog
You exhale a trembling sigh
An indescribable exclamation
An indiscernible exhortation
A dove's song of desire
Caution for the wind
Need
Fear
Mine to control
No puppet, yet I pull strings
No fortress, yet I crash the gates
Effortlessly
As you throw open the doors
Willingly
I halt
So as to worship
Before I cross this line
Of fire and water
That no longer wields power
To lock me out
Left to wander, to live
For this moment
Or to let me slip
Out of consciousness
Into the womb
Soft baby's bottom
Sharp razor groomed
The Cherubim and Seraphim lie dead
Bleeding on the floor
Slashed and drained of the power
Conferred upon them by YHWH
Drained and stained
Dry and stolen
Given to a flower
A dowry so inadequate
I feel enlightened
But
Punished as I leave
For such an epiphany will not come again
Whereas I feared the intensity that brought me to
This place within you
So I dread the inevitable
Being born again
Better to remain
Surrounded by infinity
A gas planet that bears your name
Where the air I breathe
Smells of cotton candy
Hot coffee
Marijuana smoke
And your darkness bright
A shroud of purple light
Laser beamed into the back of my head
With the sole purpose of making me forget
All that came before
So that I might be clean and prepared
To get dirty again
I'm given 9 months
Razor groomed, baby's bottom
To glide my fingers across
Gripping, fascinated
You breathe in a sweet fog
You exhale a trembling sigh
An indescribable exclamation
An indiscernible exhortation
A dove's song of desire
Caution for the wind
Need
Fear
Mine to control
No puppet, yet I pull strings
No fortress, yet I crash the gates
Effortlessly
As you throw open the doors
Willingly
I halt
So as to worship
Before I cross this line
Of fire and water
That no longer wields power
To lock me out
Left to wander, to live
For this moment
Or to let me slip
Out of consciousness
Into the womb
Soft baby's bottom
Sharp razor groomed
The Cherubim and Seraphim lie dead
Bleeding on the floor
Slashed and drained of the power
Conferred upon them by YHWH
Drained and stained
Dry and stolen
Given to a flower
A dowry so inadequate
I feel enlightened
But
Punished as I leave
For such an epiphany will not come again
Whereas I feared the intensity that brought me to
This place within you
So I dread the inevitable
Being born again
Better to remain
Surrounded by infinity
A gas planet that bears your name
Where the air I breathe
Smells of cotton candy
Hot coffee
Marijuana smoke
And your darkness bright
A shroud of purple light
Laser beamed into the back of my head
With the sole purpose of making me forget
All that came before
So that I might be clean and prepared
To get dirty again
I'm given 9 months
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)