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Poets Lovers and music-makers
Carnal takers and mental fakers
Indy men a dollar less than dime
Looking for something more
than a cardboard artist whore
running out of youth's time
Lack of self makes an empty shout
transparent alignment without a doubt
Wasting you and I: sorry soulcrime
oh you fool of a bard
now i've played the last card
the debt will begin to play a part
interest you'll pay on the heart
a trade-in desperate to be made
for a shiny new one without fade
i pity your fancies when they cease elation
discarded with a stamp of mental expiration
playing stalemate with your feelings
is no means to any pretty endings
it was during
long winter of mind
early mid twenties
discovering an unromantic end
to legacies of post-teenage frenzy
color has dissolved
back to black
grey undertones
eyes left with
thin film of disillusion
there were no minds of my generation
to be destroyed
they came pre-chewed unquestioning
in vain i looked
in madness i seethed and mourned
for that which had never
even been there
laying my gauntlet down
among the clover
looking at the sky no longer the river
a field of waving rye
under autumn's dawn sky
laying down to dream
folding thoughts to stream
others can't find me there
yet I'm seeing your stare
golden niche hid deep in my mind
hazy field where two catchers find
a rest to lay their hearts akindle
inside spirit that has no dwindle
but my boldness ends at your eyes
left with lonely rebelgirl cries
they've never put a song in my heart-hand
wherein lives the passionate demand
for me to be waves of caressing rye
underneath your pleasureful autumn sky
but whatever comes with cold winter's bend
for your smile only, everything I'll fend
your eyes like a dream i've seen from afar
undressing me from many times before
in my sleep its your touch i'm feeling
in my mind you have always been creeping
what is to be said of old times,
and sad lines,
and missing kisses dressed up
in tequila limes?
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