It Is True Love

As we awoke to the coming of another day,
and arose, stand, stumble til our feet found strength.
Of what last night took place,
we are not certain,
for it was dark,
and light pierced our eyes when we withdrew the curtain.
Bright and sharp, the pain our flesh circumcised.
What sin?! What darkness?! What Evil?! near us abides...
That the darkness gives us comfort,
and the shower shame subsides
So the soap and the scum make up subsidiary shame,
now what could make every pleasure feel like pain?
what makes a smile seem like a smirk this way?
what makes our spirit lose everytime our hands gain?
what happened last night to arouse our suspicious this day?

we clothe ourselves yet still feel bare
and fill our bellies, but still be filled with air
and beckoned our buddies
only finding no one there
and we try so very hard
yet still we do not care?
Blast, we cannot win. Blast, we only lose.
For it is we, our hands, and feet, that give way to darkness chose.
as long as we be captain,
as long as we steer ship,
our awaking,
the dawn breaking,
will pain both of our hips.
So letting go,
we gain,
redemption, rinsing stains
genuine smiles, we pray
and every touch, every pleasure,
every breathe, in every measure,
with you my favorite, my only treasure
letting go, i win forever.
lest, we try and thus be severed,
lest, we care and touch never,
lest, we seek, and find folly, clever
we be to open our arms, saying whatever
and gaining that which we loved
only if we love it with the love of heaven.

break 'em up.

relationships. relationships.
sam's talking about relationships.
and i can even relate to him.
cuz everyone's fake enough.
everyone's embracing it.
but then everybody's breaking up.
thats enough.
thats too tough.
break 'em up. break 'em up.
you don't give and take enough.
you constantly break my trust.
weak people. feel feeble.
cuz there's noone to sure them up.
complete people find equals.
and their stuff last more than months.

i have a proposition.
that everyone establish as strong internal position.
and locate in time and space (discover a preposition).
and develop a deep-seated intuition.
to let you know who you are without conditions.
i want you to be that and not this.
i want you to be him or her.
and not who you are.
cuz that might hurt.
or be too bizarre.
if you exhibit the things from inside. or live it.
but try living with the love. the kind that flows from above.
so yes. break 'em up. break 'em up.
and find someone who stakes their love.
in the fact that they dont need you. they want you.
they dont bleed for you but they want to.
if you leave them they may not die.
but darkness will cover the sky.
and in reality you're not mine.
because you're to special to be confined.
so sam i concur. sam i agree.
relationships good and bad.
hurt and release.
cry and let it go.
or just do the last of these.
so break 'em up.
cuz just south of my heart are my guts.
so whatever hurts.
ill just have to suck it up.

lines from the United Kingdom

bum, bum, bum
sending love from the uk
i was on the tram
thinking about you today
but we're 8 hours and
a few thousand miles away
is it england,
or does your absence always make skies grey?

pence and pounds can't keep you round
cuz you're long off, and that makes life rough
but i can wait i think
i suppose i'm tough
and the gyals them stare but i dont blush
cuz you arent there and they aint enough
everything's null when you've got a major crush
but you're just to far to even touch

the man on the side away

she says one thing and i smile
just one thing and i smile
if we were walking
would i smile
for the whole lovely mile??

she makes one joke and i laugh
just one joke and I laugh
if she told half a joke
at the half
would i laugh??

one minute is forever
just one minute - forever
if we were together
something bigger than eternity
would i discover?

if she dies, i'm her mother
to bring her back into this world

if she's in danger, i'm her brother
to smother whatever harms this girl

and if she's lost, i'm her father
to lead her back home

I'm that guy, the man on the side
in line for when she's alone

reciprocation is not as sure and morning precipitation
its more rare like the Bose-Einstein form of condensation
stuff is so cold that it makes new matter
and your love confessions are not bold enough
to make you matter
so you scatter, and search for other crop
hell i'll wait for 12 months for new seed to drop

the world will soon be complete, when i'm with her
i'll collect that harvest like our friend Demeter
but fall rolls around and the winds have other plans
the zephyr carry my seed into the arms of another man
you see?
no i dont!
how can it be?!
what tragedy befell a guy like me...
who allowed patience to conduct my symphony

silence...
i give my answer in the silence...
i find no use for rage or tempestuous violence
i just wait for mine to vindicate
as i walk with my back facing her flowers wither away
my righteous bow i take
of final indignate
stooping to pick plants in another field
while her stems are to be plowed and made
into a stack of horses hay.
and her flowers laid waste in a field of grey
where the man on the side once waited

making the first incision

now for the stories
this is the live i live
i will never be satisfied with the negative
but its cards we get, maybe positive
lay them, play them, if you say your in
but i dont mean quickly
savour it
cuz they flavoured it
so why waste it
i've got a bet and a turn
and i can't wager nil
so i go greater still
and put you on the line
like phone operators will
and a firing squad's kill

no regrets is what they say
but i've mad mistake
much more than once
trying ain't enough
cuz i've tried and tried and it seems too tough
what am I talking about?
im talking about doing stuff
is it too vague for you?
conversational fluff?
comprehension's rough...

this next one will look like a puff
ride with me while i make my point
i feel so weak that i don't smoke
but i couldn't resist a joint
if it were offered
and i couldn't say no to tramp
even if i tried to act proper
and my fake energy isn't worth and amp
so how the hell can i get righteous and try to stop her
when i hardly believe
yes i hardly believe
its so hard to believe that even a kid like me
would be doubting these things
my appearance is clean
but my essence is dirt
if i don't clean up now it'll eventually hurt
i don't accept the negative
shit's worse than dirt
decent living i try to insert
into myself
perfection i try to assert
and poor behavior i try to revert
with much more than lame apologies
but repentant doxologies that i mean this time
and i mean this rhyme
what ever means this rhyme
or what ever it means this time
it could be this time
or it could be last night
or every night for that matter
which displays my blight
and it could be the future if i don't stand up and fight
hand me the syringe and suture
this incision will have some bite
and grab me some coffee will you
open soul surgery could last my whole life.

still cold

let me repeat
i'm cold
and this time not because of the temperature
or my internal feeling of loneliness
but because inability to warm my own soul
and yeah I am alone
but not from me being before
myself,
whole.
1 is a number just as two
but 1 is more lonely in the years of thy youth
shame on my for not finding myself
so how can i gripe about not finding someone else
so the inability to find the knowledge of my inner essence
means another being's presence, or lack there of
makes my knack for love, an unfit glove
for someone who finds finding the self more than enough
being cold
makes me afraid because of that fact that at this point
i havent found my own joint and even if i have
i might not have made my point
so i solidify my past, because i cant foresee the future
nobody knows
where we are headed, for we are all indebted to perfection
and in need of dire correction, but how do we spread it?
certainly not through convection, but through selection
of the direction, that may lead us to resurrection.
look at me talking about us because i am afraid to deal with my self
this is not a we problem, it is a me problem
and until i solve it, it will be a steep mountain
that might be impossible to climb
and the fear in my mind
is that if to life
i do submit
and reach the summit
and years of struggle
time upon time more old
climbing longer that stories told
that i'll reach about the sun
and still be cold.

Roy and Regina

Sometimes Dance to the Symphony of Your Own Soul

Everyone knew Roy to be a young, impressionable boy. He always did what he was told and never questioned, because his mother and father told him that is what good boys do. “Obedience is better than sacrifice”, refrained his minister on Sundays. So, he obeyed friends, strangers, and even enemies of whom he was unaware. If people said “do this” or “that” then he did both for safe measure. All of his teachers considered him the most well behaved chap in the school. His friends considered him the easiest to get along with and his parents considered him absolutely darling. Roy Kimball Davidson could have changed his name to “obedience.”

One morning he woke up to the sound of his mother’s cries, “Wake up Roy!” Wake up!” “Go on and get your shower, dear”, she told him. As he hopped out of the shower, “he heard his father sound up the stairs “Hurry with your wardrobe my boy, you’ve got to beat the schoolyard bell!” So he hastily dressed and ran down the stairs and ate his breakfast upon his mother’s instruction to “eat up.” He walked to school by the guidance of his mother and entered the courtyard. His classmates cried “Roy! Come over here with us!” as they gathered in the courtyard to await the schoolyard bell and so he went to join the herd. He spotted a girl across the yard and at the adamant insistence of his peers to “go talk to her Roy” he crossed the courtyard to introduce himself. This sweet, kind, gentle boy began that morning to court young Regina, the most loved girl in the girls division of Eglenton Day School, saying “Hi I’m Roy and I think you’re beautiful.”

And so they went on, friends from that day, chatting in the hallway and sharing lunch in the yard. One day, under the usual influence of his friends, Roy asked Regina to go to the upcoming school promenade. She excitedly consented because he was nice and she liked him. He anticipated this promenade because he had grown very affectionate toward Regina. The promenade would allow him to make consummate his romance with Regina. That night came soon and the hall was beautiful, as was Regina in her elegant dress with her kind, perfected features, and her graceful display. The promenade began and the young ladies and gentlemen converged in customary fashion upon the center of the floor to waltz romantically with their dates. Custom dictated that Roy was to lead Regina out into the floor and lead her in the dance, in royal fashion. But he froze. He felt like he should be dancing like everyone else, but nobody instructed him. He felt that he should move his feet to the orchestra’s “gliding waltz” with the flow of the mass of people in the hall. But He could not lead Regina in the climactic and customarily important dance, because he only knew how to follow.

Regina, felling rejected by his failure to choose her, ran into the corridor to shed tears. Roy decided swiftly and certainly, for the first time, as if with the Wisdom of Solomon, to do something to mend what seemed to be going terribly wrong. Young Roy had a lot of explaining to do as he ran into the corridor after her. Was it that he had no practice at courtly dancing? Or did he have to learn that night to dance with destiny, to frolic with fate, to lead the object of his affection to his love, because he had never before danced to the symphony of his own soul?