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Paulo Coelho

Life was always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act.

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Waiting For The Right Time

up all night too
i wrote something too personal for you
i could not find
the best metaphor for it
and so
i went literally
on the
consonants of my
grappling

the following morning
i look for
beauty

there is none
and so i deleted it

there is no sense
of the divine

there is only that
mundane grasshopper

singing under the sun
nothing about the sacrifices of the ants

or the redeeming quality
of the turtle

i am not impressed at all
about what i am

i am waiting for the right time
to find the reason why i must

open and bloom
why i should not take the pain some more

in the tightness of my
bud.

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Waiting For The Rain

Im waiting for the rain
Im waiting for you
Im waiting for the rain
To clean my soul
Im waiting for the rain
Nothings gonna be better
Without you
The day you left me
The day you came
Ill never forget you
Feel you in my pain
The time stood still
The time was flying
I wonder why
Im not dying
Im waiting for the sun
Im waiting for a new day
Im waiting for the night
To close my eyes
Im waiting for the dark
Oh its gonna be harder
Without you
The way we danced
Ill always miss
Ill never forget
The way we kissed
The time stood still
The time was flying
I wonder why
Im not dying
Na na na na na
Na na na na na

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Waiting For The Punchline

You might say hey, I lost my sense of humor
Im quite surprised I didnt lose it sooner
Why waste your breath on anything less
Then talk so trivial
As a man who ran out of material
Chorus:
Why did the chicken go across the road
To get to the other side
Im still waiting for the punchline
Whoever said the grass always grows
Greener on the other lied
Im still waiting for the punchline
The good ol days I was known to wear a smile
Like all good things theyve gone out of style
I will admit, usually a quick wit
I found bemusing
What used to be, no longer are amusing
Chorus:
Its nothing that you said,
No nothing that you did
Must have been a bad joke,
Thats gone over my head
What me worry, another tragedy
The latter plus time, equals comedy
Why cant I get to the other side

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Waiting For The Light To Change

Brazen is love's redeemer
When you have so far to go
It loves the true believer
For the innocence they own

Life is good Life is grand
When you're sittin' on top of the world
Life is good when it's in your hands your hands
And nobody can change your world

I'm just waiting for the light to change
I'm just waiting for the light to change
I'm just waiting for the light to change
I'm just waiting

All my prize possessions
That I thought I needed so
Dragged me down on a razor
With a heaviness they tow
always searching for a love that's in bloom
it's a warm and soft embrace
Hoping you'll never be lonely again
It's a fear that you just can't face

(Chorus)

Life is good and life is grand
When you're sitting on top of the world
Life is good when it's in your hands your hands
And nobody can change your world

(Chorus)
I'm just waiting

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Waiting For The Day

It was only for a fight
That I asked you to come in
But you brought me tumbling down
And the walls came caving in
Wont you help me dry my tears
Help me roll away the years
Then perhaps I will forgive you
And the hurt will disappear
But in a fit of blind arrogance
You stood up and walked away
If youd given me half a chance
Ill be waiting for the day
For the day that you come back to me
Come on back to me
You come back to me
So forget the long goodbye
You never really tried
Threw the keys down on the table
Youve got your sense of pride
Then you had to tell the world
Your story must be heard
Slammed the door behind you
Without a single word
But in a fit of blind arrogance
You stood up and walked away
The day that you come back to me
Come on back to me
You come back to me
Come back to me
You come back to me
No I never had a single thought in my head
No I never had a single thought
Oh for the day that you come back to me
Come on back to me
You come back to me
Come on back to me
You could be my life long friend
You could be the light of dawn
You could keep me close at hand
You could keep me safe and warm
I will be your fantasy
If you come and stay with me
I will try to give you all
Waiting for the night to fall
You could be the light of day
You could be my life long friend
You could keep me close at hand
Waiting for the day to end
I will be your fantasy
If you come and stay with me
I will try to give my all
Waiting for the night to fall

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Waiting For The Miracle

Baby, Ive been waiting
Ive been waiting night and day
I didnt see the time
I waited half my life away
There were many invitations
And I know you sent me some
But I was waiting
For the miracle to come
I know you really loved me
But, you see, my hands were tied
I know it must have hurt you
It must have hurt your pride
To stand beneath my window
With your bugle and your drum
While I was waiting
For the miracle to come
You wouldnt like it baby
You wouldnt like it here
Theres not much entertainment
And the critics are severe
The maestro says its mozart
But it sounds like bubble gum
When youre waiting
For the miracle to come
Chorus
Waiting for the miracle
Theres nothing left to do
I havent been this happy
Since the end of world war ii
Nothing left to do
When you know that youve been taken
Nothing left to do
When youre begging for a crumb
Nothing left to do
When youve got to go on waiting
For the miracle to come
I dreamed about you, baby
It was just the other night
Most of you was naked
But some of you was light
The sands of time were falling
]from your fingers and your thumb
And you were waiting
For the miracle to come
Baby, lets get married
Weve been alone too long
Lets be alone together
Lets see if were that strong
Lets do something crazy
Something absolutely wrong
While were waiting
For the miracle to come
Chorus
When youve fallen on the highway
And youre lying in the rain
And they ask you how youre feeling
Of course you say you cant complain
If youre squeezed for information
Thats when youve got to play it dumb
You just say youre out there waiting
For the miracle to come

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Waiting for the call!

We are born,
We live to eat,
We eat to live,
We eat to survive,
We sleep, we wake up;
Who are we?

This is world,
This is worldly life,
What is remaining,
What else can be done,
Nothing but to die,
Waiting for the call!

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Waiting For The Light

time is running wild
and fast
my heart is beating like
a drum of
the natives

the sands are consuming
their own
grains

i do not know where is the
door

all windows are closed and it is very dark


it is a night without stars

it is a roof without a leak for rain

time is jumping to another
side

light is coming and
i have a hint where i must go
for now

i am in complete
ignorance
about what happens next


and this is
the happiest part of my life

uncertainty in the darkness of my night
waiting for the light.

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Waiting For The Sun

At first flash of eden, we race down to the sea.
Standing there on freedoms shore.
Waiting for the sun (3x)
Can you feel it now that spring has come.
And its time to live in the scattered sun.
Waiting for the sun (3x, pause, again slower)
Waiting.... waiting.... waiting.... waiting.... (2x)
Waiting for you to - come along
Waiting for you to - hear my song
Waiting for you to - come along
Waiting for you to - tell me what went wrong
This is the strangest life Ive ever known.
Yeah! (riff 8x)
(repeat second verse, chorus 3x, then riff 2x, end).

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Im Waiting For The Man

Im waiting for my man
Twenty-six dollars in my hand
Up to lexington 1-2-5
Feeling sick and dirty more dead than alive
Im waiting for my man
Hey white boy, what you doin uptown
Hey white boy, you chasin our women around
Oh pardon me sir, its furthest from my mind
Im just lookin for a dear dear friend of mine
Im waiting for my man
Here he comes, hes all dressed in black
Pr shoes and a big straw hat
Hes never early, hes always late
First thing you learn is that you always gotta wait
Im waiting for my man
Up to a brownstone, up three flights of stairs
Everybodys pinned you but nobody cares
Hes got the works gives you sweet taste
Then you gotta split because hes got no time to waste
Im waiting for my man
Baby dont holler, darlin dont you ball and shout
Im feeling good, you know Im gonna work it on out
Im feeling good, Im feeling oh so fine
Until tomorrow but thats just some other time
Im waiting for my man.

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Waiting For The Man

Im waiting for my man
Twenty-six dollars in my hand
Up to lexington 1-2-5
So sick and dirty more dead than alive
Im waiting for my man
Hey white boy, what you doin uptown
Hey white boy, you chasin our women around
Oh pardon me sir, it springs to my mind
Im just looking for a good friendly behinde
Im waiting for my man
Here he comes, hes all dressed in black
Real shoes and a big straw hat
Hes never early, hes always late
First thing you learn is that you always gotta wait
Im waiting for my man
Dirty brownstone, up three flights of stairs
Nobodys tried to pinn you but nobody cares
Hes got the works gives you sweet taste
Then you gotta split because hes got no time to waste
Im waiting for my man
Baby dont you holler, honey dont you ball and shout
Im feeling good, I know Im gonna work it on out
Im feeling good, Im feel oh so fine
Until tomorrow but thats just another time
Im waiting for my man.
To welcomeing home

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Im Waiting For The Man

(reed)
Im waiting for my man
Twenty-six dollars in my hand
Up to lexington, 125
Feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive
Im waiting for my man
Hey, white boy, what you doin uptown?
Hey, white boy, you chasin our women around?
Oh pardon me sir, its the furthest from my mind
Im just lookin for a dear, dear friend of mine
Im waiting for my man
Here he comes, hes all dressed in black
Pr shoes and a big straw hat
Hes never early, hes always late
First thing you learn is you always gotta wait
Im waiting for my man
Up to a brownstone, up three flights of stairs
Everybodys pinned you, but nobody cares
Hes got the works, gives you sweet taste
Ah then you gotta split because you got no time to waste
Im waiting for my man
Baby dont you holler, darlin dont you bawl and shout
Im feeling good, you know Im gonna work it on out
Im feeling good, Im feeling oh so fine
Until tomorrow, but thats just some other time
Im waiting for my man

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Waiting For The Worms

Oooo you cannot reach me now,
Oooo no matter how you try.
Goodbye cruel world, its over.
Walk on by.
Sitting in a bunker,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
In perfect isolation,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
Waiting, to cut out the deadwood.
Waiting, to clean up the city.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to put on a black shirt.
Waiting, to weed out the weaklings.
Waiting, to smash in their windows and kick in their doors.
Waiting, for the final solution to strengthen the strain.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to turn on the showers and fire the ovens.
Waiting, for the queers and the coons and the reds and the jews.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Would you like to see britannia,
Rule again, my friend?
All you have to do is follow the worms.
Would you like to send our colored cousins,
Home again, my friend?
All you need to do is follow the worms.

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Im Waiting For The Man

Im waiting for my man
Got 26 dollars in my hand
Up to lexington 125
Feelin sick and dirty
Huh, Im waiting for my man
Hey white boy, what you doin uptown
Hey white boy, you chasin my women around
Pardon me sir, its furthest from my mind
Im just waitin for a dear-dear friend of mine
Im waiting for my man, come on
Here he comes, hes all dressed in black
Pr shoes and a big straw hat
Hes never early, hes always late
First thing you learn is that you always gotta wait
Im waiting for my man
Up to a brownstone, up three flights of stairs
Everybodys pinned you and nobody cares
Hes got the works, gives you sweet taste
Then you gotta split because you got no time to waste
Im waiting for my man
Hey baby, dont you holler, dont you ball and shout
Im feeling good, Im gonna work it on out
Im feeling good, feeling so fine
Until tomorrow, but thats just some other time
Im waiting for my man
Im waiting for my man
Im waiting for my man
Man-man-man-man-man-man-man

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Waiting For The Big One

The wines all drunk and so am i
Here with the hoi-poloi, dont ask me why
Were celebratin anticipatin; end of the year
Everybody come, everybody here
-- well more or less
Some already in a mess
I guess theyre waiting for the big one.
Wonder why Im cold. how did I get this far?
Had no money, had no car
I pray the snow goes, be bad if it settles
cos I follow my nose and the dried up rose petals
-- like the man says,
Sure hope moses knows his roses
Or well all be waiting for the big one.
Once I was a credit to my credit card
Spent what I hadnt got, it wasnt hard
No trust in judgements no trust in money
Someday Ill find myself like a bee finding honey
But in the meantime, Im gonna have me some fun
Waiting for the big one.
One too many, where ego I go too
Looking for the real thing
It dont come from what I do
No real communication moves out of my face
Im beginning to think Im just out of place
Wont get in too deep, I want to get some sleep
To be ready for the big one
-- waiting for the big one.

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I'm Waiting For The Man

David Bowie---I'm Waiting For The Man
Words and music by Lou Reed
I'm waiting for the man
Twenty six dollars in my hand
Up to Lexington, One Two Five
So sick and dirty more dead than alive
I'm waiting for the man
Hey white boy, what you doing uptown?
Hey white boy, you're chasing all the women around
Oh pardon me sir it's furthest from my mind
I'm just looking for a good friend of mine
I'm waiting for the man
Here he comes, he's all dressed in black
PR shoes, and a big straw hat
He's never early, he's always late
First thing you learn is that you've always got to wait
I'm waiting for the man
Brown stone building and three flights of stairs
Nobody stops you 'cause nobody cares
He's got the works and he gives you sweet taste
But then you've got to split because you've got no time to waste
I'm waiting for the man
Baby don't you holler, darling don't you scream and shout
I'm feeling good, I'm going to work it on out
I'm feeling good, I'm feeling so fine
Until tomorrow but that's just another time
I'm waiting for the man
I'm waiting for the man
Twenty six dollars lying there in my hand
Up to Lexington, One Two Five five
So sick and dirty more dead than alive
I'm waiting for the man

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Waiting For The Sirens' Call

What does this ship bring to me
Far across the restless sea
Waiting for the sirens call
I've never seen it here before
There she ??? the lonely trail
Getting through the breaking winds
Drifting slowly from the coast
She is lost forever more
We all want some kind of love
But sometimes it's not enough
To the wall and through the door
With a stranger on the shore
I won't desert you
I don't know what to say
I really hurt you
I nearly gave it all the way
I've got it all
Cause you were not the one
I don't know where to turn when you're gone
When you're gone
Gotta catch the midnight train
First to Paris then to Spain
Travel with a document
All across the continent
City life is flying by
The wheels are turning all around
Get on board we can't be late
Our destination cannot wait
All the stars and all the worlds
Filling up this universe
Can never be as close as us
We never shine as bright or????????
I won't desert you
I don't know what to say
I really hurt you
I nearly gave it all the way
I've got it all
Cause you were not the wrong one
I don't know where to turn when you're gone
When you're gone
I won't desert you
I don't know what to say
I really hurt you
I nearly gave it all the way
I've got it all
Cause you were not the one
I don't know where to turn when you're gone
When you're gone
How many times must I lose my way, hey
How many words do I have to say, hey
What can I do just to make you see
That you're so good for a man like
A man like me

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Waiting For The End Of The World

The man from the television crawled into the train.
I wonder who hes gonna stick it in this time.
Everyone was looking for a little entertainment,
So theyll probably pull his hands off
When they find out his name.
And then they shut down the power all along the line,
And we got stuck in the tunnel where no lights shine.
They got to touching all the girls were to scared to call out.
Nobody was saying anything at all.
We were waiting for the end of the world,
Waiting for the end of the world,
Waiting for the end of the world.
Dear lord I sincerely hope youre coming
cause you really started something.
Things got back to normal as the train began to roll again.
We got to the station about twenty minutes later.
The legendary hitchhiker says that he knows where its at.
Now hed like to go to spain or somewhere like that,
With his two-tone Bible and his funny cigarettes,
His suntan lotion and his castanets.
He was waiting for the end of the world,
Waiting for the end of the world,
Waiting for the end of the world.
Dear lord I sincerely hope youre coming
cause you really started something.
And then the bride, the groom, the congregation and the priest
All got onto the train when we were three stations east, yeah.
Hiding from a scandal in the national press,
They had been trying to get married since they stole the wedding dress.
You may see them drowning as you stroll along the beach,
But dont throw out the lifeline till theyre clean out of reach.

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Waiting For The Next Explosion

By: jimmy buffett
Missing link crouched upon a promontory rock
Trying to figure out his biological clock
No one around to announce his arrival
So hes got to get to work on his sense of survival
Oh, oh its a dangerous world
Oh but in china they got smart real fast
Thats where they invented the manmade blast
They lost a few fingers and some bamboo shacks
But they gave birth to a tribe of pyromaniancs
Oh, oh its a dangerous world (dangerous world dangerous world)
Fire in the sky, lava in the ocean
Sitting around waiting for the next explosion
Back in the 50s they thought it made good sense
To teach all the school children bout civil defense
Dont be scared (dont be scared)
Do not cry (please dont cry)
Just dive under your desk and kiss your ass goodbye
Oh, oh such a dangerous world (dangerous world dangerous world)
It was a hell of a hustle
Paranoia promotion
Everybody duck and cover just waitin for the next explosion
Wherere you gonna be when it hits the fan
Got a plan
Whatcha gonna do if it lands on you
Wheres your point of view
Down at the beach club theres a sales convention
Night sky is the focus of that crowds attention
Its no cosmic collision just a fireworks show
But they feel it in their hearts when those concussion bombs blow
Oh, oh such a dangerous world (dangerous world dangerous world)
Gunpowders louder than newtons law of motion
Everybodys waiting for the next explosion
Fire on the sky falling in the ocean
Sitting around waiting for the next explosion
(sitting around waiting for the next explosion)

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Patrick White

Childhood Never Ends

Childhood's never over.
It goes on evolving along with us
as if maturing had nothing to do
with growing up.
It's what's still creative about yesterday
that lives on inside us
like an ongoing work of art
whose finishing stroke of genius
was never to abandon it.
My childhood has the eyes of a homeless boy.
The eldest son of a single welfare mother
how could I not become a hero
to be worthy of her
who gave her life up for me?
Even the worthless can make noble mistakes
and if I started out tilting at windmills
the ironic absurdity
of my many-headed imagination
has long since turned me into
some kind of dragon voodoo doll
that keeps taking hits from the past
like a junkie trying to curse someone
by sticking pins in himself
as if his blood had eyes.
Who knows the fate
of the fatherless son
who's been martyred
on the heartless altars
of maternal compassion?
I was middle-aged by the time I was seven years old.
I'm sure my mother never meant to raise this.
But there you go.
Things get out of control sometimes
like morning glory vines in a cedar hedge
after a forest fire.
Some people are the point of the sword.
Some are the edge.
Some grab the blade by the hilt
and then there are all those who bleed.
I played Russian roulette with the moon
to clarify my intensities
with Zen bullets
I held to my head like koans
that kept bouncing off my platinum skull
or went clean through
without touching any of my vital organs.
There's a subtle ambiguity
about enlightenment
that makes it hard to distinguish
a great bodhisattva from a contract killer.
I've been watching myself for years now
like a C.I.A. drone
learning all my routines
and personal habits
waiting for the right moment
to make the perfect hit.
I can remember when I thought I was Zorro.
A Spitfire pilot over London in the autumn of 1940.
Born a recipient white-washed by gratitude
like a white picket fence
with a couple of palings missing
for everything from the shoes on my feet
to my next breath
I wanted to make a contribution
that was a liberating payback with interest
for all that we'd received
as a welfare family
living like economic gypsies
on the fringes of better things to come.
The slave wanted to buy his freedom
from the infernal kindness
of his economic masters
indulging themselves in charity
to live forgivably
with God's obscene abundance.
If great oak trees from little acorns grow
and you can get Neils Bohr
out of a single atom
and there was even hope for me
way back then
when I was a switchblade
winning book awards
that alienated me strangely enough
not only from those who gave them out
like well-cut jewels
to a diamond in the rough
but baffled my more bituminous friends
into keeping their distance
as if intelligence
were an untouchable
in a criminal caste system.
I didn't want to be someone
my mother had wasted her life for.
So much of what I am.
So much of what I've done.
So much of what I've not done.
Not much of a son
when I look at it through her eyes
and even less of an outcome
when I look at it through mine.
Things were supposed to come to fruition.
But they've proven to be all vine.
In my grailquest for redemption
I've followed the dark star of my intuition
like black wine
that delighted in leading me astray.
The rational disassociation of the sensibility
as Rimbaud used to say.
Method in your madness.
But that was yesterday
before the center did not hold
and things fell apart
as Yeats said they would.
Not that it does a lot of cosmic good
to know these things.
It's hard to console a pteradactyl
by telling it why
the dinosaurs disappeared.
Everybody goes
with the evolutionary flow of their lifestreams
running downhill
to the big landfill
of their schemes and dreams
coming to a standstill
like the genes and memes
of a homesick Neanderthal.
They knew how to flint knap the moon
but they never learned
how to spin their delusions
like I did
in blood red ochre
on the wombwalls of a limestone cave
deep underground in southwest France.
It's not so hard to be a hero
when there's nothing to lose
and you don't stand a chance.
Think about it.
We're all given minds to express ourselves
and most of humanity
only says what it really means
when no one is listening
like Iago behind Othello's back.
What kind of a play is that?
The actors keep their mouths shut.
The theme's a re-run.
And the heroes
are all vicious petty
snakeoil salesmen
milking both fangs at once
like the crescents of the moon
to heal the last first
of all they have wounded
like a drug addict
in the realm of the Fisher King.
I may be as dark
as an oxymoronic anti-hero
blinded on the road to Damascus
by an improvised explosive device
that was wired like two snakes coupling
in the name of an unknown goat god
but at least I mean what I mean.
I don't say the kingdom's green
when it's black.
I'm not a latter day Teresias.
The fix isn't in on the prophecy.
I don't look at two copulating snakes
and see a double helix.
I live in eclipse
like one of the real heretics.
I am the estranged genius
of my own genome
wholly at home
in my homelessness.
I have learned how to mutate.
To shape-shift my form
like an old Etruscan god
of zodiacal kings
where the river turns towards Rome
like the bloodline of a mad emperor into the arts.
I'm not trying to sell my story to the stars.
I don't believe in lullabies that leave scars.
I don't think there's anything in the way of wealth
that's worth asking for
that's worth more
than the strength to stop asking
and the wisdom to ignore your own power
like an annoying habit
you're trying to transcend
to be a bigger man
than the one you thought you were.
I wanted to be the kind of son
that turned all those floors
all those windows and tables
my mother had to scrub
for rich women in Lansdowne
into glass slippers
that fit her
like a shoe-shine Cinderella
with a prince of a reflection
for an eldest son.
I started out well enough that way.
But look what happened.
Someone once told me
the earth was a sphere
and so it is
if you're rich enough,
but if you keep falling off the edge of it
you take as a sign you're poor.
You look at it
like an old starmap
that never goes out of date
like the full moon
of an empty dinner plate.
You know it's flat.
And hope's not much of a parachute
when it flowers
as if wishes were horses
and beggars could ride
because that's the way
it insists with coercive intensity
things ought to be
and all in one voice
we all agree
to the same inane absurdity.
All the intellectuals
are trying to divine
the direction
of our mutual devolution
like an apocalyptic watershed
right under their feet
by reading the biography
of a best-selling mutant
they're dying to meet
in a debate about creation
and misinformation
as the basis of reality.
And I may have been stubbed out
like a cigarette
or a big toe in a bad dream
on the stone of the earth
whenever I laid my head down
to forget who I was
more than a lifetime or two
because I was a slow learner
with a Mongolian tolerance for pain
but I've never blown a personal crisis
up into an astronomical catastrophe
that makes everything I think
the cosmic life
of a self-conscious dinosaur
that went extinct upon impact.
I've never done that
though that doesn't make me
much of a hero
in the eyes of my undoing.
A hero needs to act spontaneously
on the facts of the situation
through four consecutive acts
of tragic superstition
playing to the crowd.
I've got the scars
to say I've done my time
standing up in the arena
armed with nothing
but long odds against the Christians
but I've never learned how to scream
like a sestina, or the ballade royal
of an approximate Horation ode,
not even in the terza rima
of a divine comedy in hell
the way it says you're supposed to
in all the rhyming dictionaries
that teach you to write
like a social form of etiquette
about things that made you fight for your life
like a lion-god with claws
the size of lunar crescents
that knows how to part your heart
as if the waters of the Red Sea
were nothing but a minor flesh wound
compared to how
you can be opened up like Egypt
the moment you dropp your guard.
Thieves in the pyramid!
Thieves in the pyramid!
Stealing my body of thought
like the tools to build
a better afterlife
than I was dreaming of
like the only way out of here.
Let's hope there's someone waiting
on the other side of the wall
between that freedom
and this prison
with a car
and new clothes
and a snakey mistress
that looks up
and smiles like a gun moll
then hisses and moves
like an anaconda
in black pantyhose
listening to rhythm and blues
on a police radio.
It may not be a cure for cancer.
But it's my last answer
to those who ask me what
I'm doing here
checking my spiritual rear-view mirror
every few minutes of my getaway
like a return journey
I'm not going to make
back to Heartbreak Hill
like Sisyphus
on tour with the Rolling Stones
in the town where I grew up
watching my mother
try to make it through every month
as if she were trying to swim
the Straits of Juan de Fuca
like Marilyn Bell.
Hell is a seven year old boy
sitting at a kitchen table
like a broken toy
late into the night
listening to his exhausted mother
get the sorrow rage and despair
out of her system
like the venom of another day
by making two little Xs with a razorblade
and bleeding it out loud
as if you crossed your heart
and hoped to die
because even death was better
than living the way we did.
I've thrown a lot of snakes
without heads
in the fire ever since.
I've bruised them with my heel.
I was inspired by the views
of a Promethean thief
to introduce fire to the snakepit
that reached out to bite my mother
every day of her life
she couldn't feel anything
but harm at the door of her heart
and dangerous shadows
under the windows into her soul.
Though sometimes
when the world had shut down for the night
I could see through the tears she tried to hold back
beautiful rainbow serpents
still swirling
like the Northern Lights
on the oilslick that overwhelmed her.
Even on her hands and knees
scrubbing the filth
off other people's floors
she found a way to dance
the way she did before
the swan died on the lake
and she was hobbled by four kids
and a seven to five chance against
getting the next month's rent.
She could have let go.
But she didn't.
She hung on to her children
like a fatal mistake
she was deep enough to make
for love's sake
in the middle of welfare hell
where night after night
staring at greasy walls
and torn linoleum
childhood never ends.
You just sit at the table forever
trying to pick the brighter bits
of broken chandeliers
out of the ice-storms
of your frozen tears.
And there's so much you want to do
but you can't
because you're not God
and you're not the genie in the lamp
you're just a child
terrified of hope
thinking to yourself
some people cling to life
like a strong rope up to heaven
and others are barely hanging on by the thread
of the sword
dangling over their heads
like the brutal truth
of a debt to society
that's always in arrears.
Looking back over the years
it gets easier to see
that if nature abhors a vacuum
then it doesn't miss me
or the futile childhood clarity
of a social pariah
sitting at the table
like one of the four elements
my mother gave birth to
listening to the sound of humans
snapping like wishbones
that never came true.

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