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Sweet Precious Child

Heaven hear the unborn’s cry
Send an angel from above
Golden basket lined with fleece
Hold the gift er’ so gently

Sweet child without a voice
Precious child without a choice


Solemn thoughts from Heaven’s throne
Mighty hands receive them back
Single buds for your garden
Bloom against the angel’s song

Sweet child without a voice
Precious child without a choice

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Hear The Angel

Can you hear the angel sing

Singing of a glorious day

Can’t you hear the bird’s ah,
Chirping,

In harmony with the bell’s of

The heavenly choir

Can you hear the angel sing

With praises from heaven above

The angel is singing

When my days of toiling is

Done

I want to rest beside my savior

Rest my child rest

Your days of toiling is done

Can you hear the angel sing

Calling you home to rest beside

Jesus side..

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Some Can't Hear the Words

Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Wednesday, September 05,2001

There's another child that's lost their way
Living their life just for today
There's another youth that lives on the street
They have no shoes upon their feet
They've lost their youth and now they're old
Who will give them shelter from the cold?
The world is dieing there's no love
Waiting for intervention from above

Some can't hear the worlds just the song
Some can't remember where they belong
Some are just blinded by the light
Some has vision but lacking sight
Head over heels they are falling
They can't even hear that God is calling
Blinded by despair for no one cares
Just hold out your hands and he'll be there

There's another girl that has no home
Her stepfather won't leave her alone
Now she's decided to run away
Had to turn to prostitution to make her pay
She sole her soul, her mind, her body
She's living a life style not to healthy
She's got no hope for tomorrow
She's living a life of pure sorrow

There's another boy that got locked up
So he decides he's had enough
Can't find no work, no job, no pay
He turns to drugs to make it through the day
He said leave me alone I'm doing no harm
But look at the tracks upon his arms
Robbing and looting at the point of a knife
Last night someone finally took his life

Some can't hear the worlds just the song
Some can't remember where they belong
Some are just blinded by the light
Some has vision but lacking sight
Head over heels they are falling
They can't even hear that God is calling
Blinded by despair for no one cares
Just hold out your hands and he'll be there

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A Terre (being the philosophy of many soldiers)

Sit on the bed. I'm blind, and three parts shell.
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
Both arms have mutinied against me,-brutes.
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats.

I tried to peg out soldierly,-no use!
One dies of war like any old disease.
This bandage feels like pennies on my eyes.
I have my medals?-Discs to make eyes close.
My glorious ribbons?-Ripped from my own back
In scarlet shreds. (That's for your poetry book.)

A short life and a merry one, my buck!
We used to say we'd hate to live dead-old,-
Yet now...I'd willingly be puffy, bald,
And patriotic. Buffers catch from boys
At least the jokes hurled at them. I suppose
Little I'd ever teach a son, but hitting,
Shooting, war, hunting, all the arts of hurting.
Well, that's what I learnt,-that, and making money.

Your fifty years ahead seem none too many?
Tell me how long I've got? God! For one year
To help myself to nothing more than air!
One Spring! Is one too good to spare, too long?
Spring wind would work its own way to my lung,
And grow me legs as quick as lilac-shoots.

My servant's lamed, but listen how he shouts!
When I'm lugged out, he'll still be good for that.
Here in this mummy-case, you know, I've thought
How well I might have swept his floors for ever.
I'd ask no nights off when the bustle's over,
Enjoying so the dirt. Who's prejudiced
Against a grimed hand when his own's quite dust,
Less live than specks that in the sun-shafts turn,
Less warm than dust that mixes with arms' tan?
I'd love to be a sweep, now, black as Town,
Yes, or a muckman. Must I be his load?

O Life, Life, let me breathe,-a dug-out rat!
Not worse than ours the lives rats lead-
Nosing along at night down some safe rut,
They find a shell-proof home before they rot.
Dead men may envy living mites in cheese,
Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys,
And subdivide, and never come to death.
Certainly flowers have the easiest time on earth.
'I shall be one with nature, herb, and stone'
Shelley would tell me. Shelley would be stunned:
The dullest Tommy hugs that fancy now.
'Pushing up daisies' is their creed, you know.

To grain, then, go my fat, to buds my sap,
For all the usefulness there is in soap.
D'you think the Boche will ever stew man-soup?
Some day, no doubt, if...Friend, be very sure
I shall be better off with plants that share
More peaceably the meadow and the shower.
Soft rains will touch me,-as they could touch once,
And nothing but the sun shall make me ware.
Your guns may crash around me. I'll not hear;
Or, if I wince, I shall not know I wince.

Don't take my soul's poor comfort for your jest.
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds,
But here's the thing's best left at home with friends.

My soul's a little grief, grappling your chest,
To climb your throat on sobs; easily chased
On other sighs and wiped by fresher winds.

Carry my crying spirit till it's weaned
To do without what blood remained these wounds.

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I Do Not Long For Your Eyes

i do not long for your eyes
not your hands
not your breasts
you do not entice me
anymore that you used to
seduce my
silence,
you have become the noise
on my streets
of desire, the canals have
overflowed
and the flowers on the garden
do not have red roses
the weeds are thriving
but in his house
i must still live with you
there is no choice
but the same silence
that came with you
when you seduced me
into this trap
i want to spell the word
home, love,
fidelity.
Help me spell all the other
words for me.
I am groping
for those that lie deep
and strange.

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Fight For Your Life

[Bonus Track - From the Screaming For Vengeance sessions, part was used for "Rock Hard Ride Free" from Defenders Of The Faith]
Get a grip on the action
I'm moving heaven and earth
Don't let go of the action
Push for all that you're worth
No denying
It goes against the grain
So Defying
You're screaming again
Fight for your life
Fight for your money
Fight for your life
Fight for your money
Time for steel, stop at nothing
Looking fate in the face
We don't take no for an answer
Grab the lead in the race
Rock hard with a purpose
Got a mind that won't bend
A hard resolution
That is true to the end

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Waiting for your Answer

Waiting for you
Kills me deep inside
But when I'm with her
My fires alive
Those in our way
Can run and hide
This world is ours together well thrive
It don't matter where we go
I hear the music and already know
Hit the dance
Let yourself go
Feel it in your heart
Feel it in your soul

The tension dimension is tearing me apart
Not to mention
I tossed out my heart
Wait for an answer
Still no reply
Did what I had to do
Won't live a lie

And when my answer comes
My heart stops I'm stunned
Wish I could let it go
But I feel so bummed
And now I'm here with nothing to do
I had a dream
But it seems to me
That shit won't come through

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I Can't Hear The Music

I can't hear the music
although I try each day.
You took it with you when you left me
and then went on your way.

I can't hear the music
and now I cry each day.
You used to play your songs for me
and I used to hear you say

How much you really loved me
and the promises you swore.
And now after all these years
and all my tears
I can't hear the music anymore.

I remember all the nights we spent
and all the songs you'd sing.
They kept me warm as I listened
and oh what joy they'd bring.

In each new song and each new word
I'd revel in your voice.
I never thought there'd be a time
when you would make the choice
to take your songs and leave me
so I could never hear,
never hear the music anymore.

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Bound for your distant home

Bound for your distant home
you were leaving alien lands.
In an hour as sad as I’ve known
I wept over your hands.
My hands were numb and cold,
still trying to restrain
you, whom my hurt told
never to end this pain.

But you snatched your lips away
from our bitterest kiss.
You invoked another place
than the dismal exile of this.
You said, ‘When we meet again,
in the shadow of olive-trees,
we shall kiss, in a love without pain,
under cloudless infinities.’

But there, alas, where the sky
shines with blue radiance,
where olive-tree shadows lie
on the waters glittering dance,
your beauty, your suffering,
are lost in eternity.
But the sweet kiss of our meeting ......
I wait for it: you owe it me .......

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Quit looking for your salvation from the emotionally stunted people

We forget that we are part of the very core of creation, thus we are an expression of creation. From time to time we incarnate into families that is into circumstances that shame us out of are core, of who we are, this starts from birth, such feelings begin in the womb from the circumstances that surround the mother. The way out of such feelings is in. Own your feelings, they are telling you that the environment that you were raised in was inadequate. Quit looking for your salvation from the emotionally stunted people of your past. Find it in people who are able and willing to own their projections, who are capable of really loving you, that is be with people who love you for you instead of trying to manipulate you into roles that validates their twisted and stunted sense of self.

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For Your Feeling's Will Someday fade

How you tell me you love me
And yet I don't want to know
You tell me you always will
But my heart tells me no
I can't figure you out surely
You amaze me all the time
Yet you will grow tired of me
When you come across a new find
For Your Feelings Will Someday Fade
Perhaps I'm not use to this
After all love is but a game
With the right heart felt words
You eventually get your fame
I wont hear it I tell you now
My world is where I feel safe
To explore this love you speak
I feel the end would be a bitter fate
For Your Feelings Will Someday Fade
Lets just be grateful for now
And not go ahead and lose our way
We share many wonderful things
For your love will take all this away
It is best to enjoy what we have
Let love not make us some slave
I don't wish to share your emotion
For Your Feelings Will Someday Fade

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Fight For Your Rights

Cant break the chains
Cant solve the pain
Cant rhyme problem with reason
Not taking sides
Just asking why
Does the pain eat the children
Who wrote the bible
Who set the laws
Are we left to historys flaws
And if youre out there
Then let me hear (hey)
And take a look in the mirror
Fight fight for your rights
Fight fight for your rights
Cant name no names
Of whos to blame
For cries out in the sky
Were all slaves to time
No colors right
Throw our hate into the fire
Martin luther
Brought the truth
The color of our bloods the same
So break the chains
And solve the pains
And we all become one race
Fight fight for your rights
Fight fight for your rights
Oh, people, people
Is the scar too deep
You cant hold a mans soul
By the color of his keys
A tear of blood runs from my eye
But somehow I can never
Make you...cry...

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For Your Love

You are impudent against the truth and,
I am very patient with my words;
But all that glitters in this life is not gold!
Yahnathan Ben Shaul,
The lowing of the oxen and the bleating of sheep;
I am crawling out of a hole in Beth Arven!
And i will set a table for your love when i succeed.

Eat and drink and let us make merry,
Because you are all that i need in this land;
And like the big stone under my head as my pillow,
But you shall always love by your sword.

You shall serve your brother and i will love you with care,
And like a ladder resting on the earth and reaching out to heaven!
But this place is very wonderful to see,
For you are all that i need in this life.

The bed of roses and the love of your muse,
I will serve you seven more years for this love;
And like the wonderful acts of your sweet muse,
But for your love i will do anything to have it.

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I Hear The Laughter

Writers: leo sayer & johnny vastano
Listning to the falling rain
Always seems to bring her back again
I can remember like it was yesterday
Sound of her voice, her look upon her face
Like children playing childrens games
We joked and laughed at evry passing day
Im so much older, things have changed
Ive realized that now its just too late
I hear the laughter echoin through my brain
I hear the laughter then Im alone again
I tried to forget her heaven knows
Seems theres no direction left to go
I can remember like it was yesterday
I hear the laughter then Im alone again
Im alone again, alone again
I wish that I could hold you now
I wish that I could turn this all around
Its just my foolish fantasy
But that wont bring your sweet love back to me
I hear the laughter, somebody called my name
I hear the laughter and I can feel the pain
I hear the laughter echoing through my brain
I hear the laughter then Im alone again
I hear the laughter, I hear the laughter

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Fool For Your Love

And I heard a story all about you
That you never started
And maybe I can learn to give my cheek another turn
And so Ill drink your point of view
Blur my vision my feelings too
Sometimes I dont see, what your giving means to me
Shes acting strangely,
And says her whole world is starting to turn
Shes got a broken heart,
Shes good at playing the part
Ive been tricked again,
Ive been a fool for your love
And everytime Ive got it made,
You come and burn it all down, down
Its always something that I said, hey hey hey
And dont say a word, dont say anything
Dont even make a sound
And hear the rumours scream and shout, yeah
Shes acting strangely,
And says her whole world is starting to turn
Shes got a broken heart, shes good at playing the part
Ive been tricked again, Ive been a fool for your love
I remember the time when I first met her
Since that night Ive been trying to hold it together, together
And I heard a story all about you,
You come and burn it all down, down
Dont say anything
And hear the rumours scream and shout, yeah
And Im acting crazy, cause my whole world has started to turn
I got a broken heart,
And I stand at playing the part
Ive been tricked again, Im still a fool for your love

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Give the command for Your war

Never in the time that I exist
did You declared human secrets
like now to me, things intertwined so deep,
given to me with illustrious meaning

enable me to become aware of the true facts
of mighty people threatening me and my nation
and there are pain and sorrow everywhere
give the command for Your war, as I have to reveal Your will.

Everyone wants a bit of happiness, an own little place
and now the smudging clouds are rolling away like fog
and without any fear You want me to go
with big and sincere pity

to them that are the enemies of me and my nation,
in spite of resistance, to go to them
to warn them, to spell your sentence out,
give the command for Your war, as I have to reveal Your will.

Lord these people do not fear You,
they are caught up in modern knowledge,
believe that You do not exist, are only a myth
but now I will put it straightforward with all inherent meaning:

I have irrefutable prescience that destruction waits
and this is not something that I allege
and the coming disaster is unknown in world history
give the command for Your war, as I have to reveal Your will.

l’Envoi
Lord God, if these oppressors do not come to repentance,
then let Your judgement fall, if they do not pray to You.
Almighty Lord, loosen Your winds to destroy,
give the command for Your war, as I have to reveal Your will.

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Waiting For Your Love

Hands, dont let her go, cause then the midnight icy winds will blow
Eyes, give every drop, this aint the way that shouldve made her stop
Arms, just let her know, no one fills the place she used to grow
Smile, dont leave me now, cos youre the reason shes here anyhow
Words, be gentle when you speak into her heart
cos if it breaks, she may not come again
Chorus:
Ive been waitin for your love and its been here all the time
Right in front of me
Ive been sittin, waitin for your love, and all the time its been here
Right in front of me
Look, forget your pride, she might kiss as youre like even tide
Song, be in her heart, especially when were apart
Love, be by my side, cos if she leaves there aint no place to hide
Soul, be with her now, cos youre the first one she knew anyhow
Words, be gentle when you speak into her heart
cos if it breaks, she may not come again
Chorus
(instrumental break)
Words be gentle when you speak into her heart
cos if it breaks, she may not come again
Ive been sittin, waitin for your love, and all the time its been here
Right in front of me
Draw the line, Ill step across, even further I give in, you got me, yeah
Ive been sittin, waitin for your love, and all the time its been here
Right in front of me, yeah
Just separated by ten thousand miles, youre not alone, girl you got me, yeah
Guess I neednt tell you that Im not around, Im inside, you got me, yeah
Ive been waitin for your love, its been here all the time
Right in front of me

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I hear the Lark.

I hear the lark, said Alice,
it sings in my ear like an
angel's voice, brings me
pleasure in my darkest
hour, plays in my mind
like an echoing dream.

I see the morning sun,
its beams dance at my
feet, swirl around like a
child at play, my eyes
rejoice at the sight I see,
dread the thought of
blindness in some new
day's gift, push away the
ideas as if they were flies,
push all away like one fulfilled.

I smell the lily's scent, its
aroma brings me out in a
rash of joy, its smell invades
my nose like a vanquishing
army, opens me up to the
pleasures of smell, makes
me want to sniff forever,
drink in until my head swims,
my sleep recalls the aroma's kiss.

I feel my lover's fingers along
my flesh, sense his skin smooth
along mine like a skater on ice,
like one sliding across a polished
floor, the fingers caressing like
a butterfly's touch, tickling to
laughter, fondling until my voice
says, ah, don't stop, fill me up,
squeeze all on until the final drop.

I breathe the wind's breath,
inhale the morning's freshness,
the air of angel's exhalation,
my lungs take in like a greedy
girl, sup in each particle as I
dance along, remembering now
the air of summer, the filling
of my lungs like a fish the water,
opening my lips in a happy song,
my voice singing across an open sea.

I taste my lover's tongue touch
mine, feel the tongue and mine
in dance, lick and lick until the
pleasures erupt, the places engorge
and swell, I taste the saltiness
of my lover's sex, the sweetness
of the heavenly hive, the tongue
swimming along my lover's thigh
and arm and on and on, my taste
buds explode into a rainbow of
colours, my tongue feeling like
a snail's flesh, moving and sensing
until my mind says, No more, no
more and I hear the waves of dark
depression surge in on my shore.

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I Am The Mate For Your Soul (Do Not Fear Me)

If only time could be undone;
Then, the mistakes of time ere
May find correction, until there were none.
Time could be rewound, to where
My heart allowed fear to lead it
And I could erase my biggest mistake.
My heart would tell your's that I need it,
So that I may finally live the life I've tried to make
For myself, for so very, very long!
Of course, I would need your cooperation,
To re-light the flame, once so very strong.
Much time has been given, to much mentation
Upon this very subject-long and deep I've pondered!
You and I were supposed to be-
But sadly, I was too afeared, and squandered
The vision that my eyes were supposed to see!

It is said: 'it is never too late';
Perhaps we were meant to wait
Until now-maybe it was fated
That we meet again, and created
A complete canvas, for a second chance
At a consumate consortium-a romance
Betwixt the mates for each other's souls!
You are the vision that my heart extols
In both reality and aspiration-
My all-consuming amorous vocation!

My beloved, though I have never told you,
I love you more than anything I may ever say!
I know not, if again I'll ever hold you
In my arms-though, in my dreams, I've imagined the day!

We are drawn to one another yet again;
Perhaps we were just not ready then,
So, for reasons we do not fully comprehend,
God brought us back to one another, so we may amend
What was once an incomplete, all-too-brief love affair;
Now I am ready, and naught may scare
Me away this time-though, am I too late?
I know you love me, yet would never ask me to wait-
You are too noble-you would rather lie
To your own heart, yet I ask 'why? '.
Do not accept a life that is uninspired
Because our own circumstances conspired
Against us so many years ago.
You cried, as have I, allowing tears to flow
Only when alone and in the dark of night,
So that your vulnerability remained out of sight.
Do not cry any longer, for our love, lost-
Our dreams may still be, no matter of cost
To that which we believe we have built;
The fragrant flower that is our love may begin to wilt
If too much time is spent on altruism-
The verity of your heart is the only truism
That should really concern you now.
If cannot provide for it, then you should learn to, now,
Before it begins to wither, then die!
If you do not allow it to come hither-then, 'why? '
Would be the question I would pose.
Believe me beloved, the requisite love shows
Through, whenever you are near me.
I am the mate for your soul, do not fear me!

Maurice Harris,14 August 2011

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A Terre

(Being the philosophy of many Soldiers.)


Sit on the bed; I'm blind, and three parts shell,
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
Both arms have mutinied against me -- brutes.
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats.

I tried to peg out soldierly -- no use!
One dies of war like any old disease.
This bandage feels like pennies on my eyes.
I have my medals? -- Discs to make eyes close.
My glorious ribbons? -- Ripped from my own back
In scarlet shreds. (That's for your poetry book.)

A short life and a merry one, my brick!
We used to say we'd hate to live dead old, --
Yet now . . . I'd willingly be puffy, bald,
And patriotic. Buffers catch from boys
At least the jokes hurled at them. I suppose
Little I'd ever teach a son, but hitting,
Shooting, war, hunting, all the arts of hurting.
Well, that's what I learnt, -- that, and making money.
Your fifty years ahead seem none too many?
Tell me how long I've got? God! For one year
To help myself to nothing more than air!
One Spring! Is one too good to spare, too long?
Spring wind would work its own way to my lung,
And grow me legs as quick as lilac-shoots.
My servant's lamed, but listen how he shouts!
When I'm lugged out, he'll still be good for that.
Here in this mummy-case, you know, I've thought
How well I might have swept his floors for ever,
I'd ask no night off when the bustle's over,
Enjoying so the dirt. Who's prejudiced
Against a grimed hand when his own's quite dust,
Less live than specks that in the sun-shafts turn,
Less warm than dust that mixes with arms' tan?
I'd love to be a sweep, now, black as Town,
Yes, or a muckman. Must I be his load?

O Life, Life, let me breathe, -- a dug-out rat!
Not worse than ours the existences rats lead --
Nosing along at night down some safe vat,
They find a shell-proof home before they rot.
Dead men may envy living mites in cheese,
Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys,
And subdivide, and never come to death,
Certainly flowers have the easiest time on earth.
"I shall be one with nature, herb, and stone."
Shelley would tell me. Shelley would be stunned;
The dullest Tommy hugs that fancy now.
"Pushing up daisies," is their creed, you know.
To grain, then, go my fat, to buds my sap,
For all the usefulness there is in soap.
D'you think the Boche will ever stew man-soup?
Some day, no doubt, if . . .
Friend, be very sure
I shall be better off with plants that share
More peaceably the meadow and the shower.
Soft rains will touch me, -- as they could touch once,
And nothing but the sun shall make me ware.
Your guns may crash around me. I'll not hear;
Or, if I wince, I shall not know I wince.
Don't take my soul's poor comfort for your jest.
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds,
But here the thing's best left at home with friends.

My soul's a little grief, grappling your chest,
To climb your throat on sobs; easily chased
On other sighs and wiped by fresher winds.

Carry my crying spirit till it's weaned
To do without what blood remained these wounds.

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Patrick White

I Can Still Hear The Reticent Echoes

I can still hear the reticent echoes
of my wary adolescence among intellectual radicals
demanding the nightwatchmen of insight open the gates.
One stole an Underwood for me from the student newspaper,
saying I would put it to better use than they would
and another drove me to my astronomy exam
against the will of my drunken declinations.
And I remember White Rabbit playing on the radio
first time, and the turmoil of sun and morning shadows
playing Scarlatti on the keyboards of the arbutus leaves.
Happy. Free. And sixteen enough to get away with anything.
I was bright and fearless. No one could take subjective risks
the way I could, but I still had to stand up
on the book of experience to see over the steering wheel.

Spectral figments of the past, smokey remnants
of the fires we once sat around without giving a thought
to how long they'd last. We were zodiacs. We were
hedonists of the light, trying to believe
in our own arrogance enough to roar like dragons
and write like the first green tendrils of an ancient vine.
I was apprenticed to the signs I saw in everything
like a library of eyes in flames, and the subtlety of fireflies
that came like the nuances of midnight,
and shone upon my path like lighthouses among the stars.
Famous days. Baby turtles urgent to reach the tide
among swarms of hovering seagulls, sky rats,
thinning the odds of any of us ever making it
out of the shadows of our predatory circumstances.
Everything a test of our fitness for life, and a laurel
awarded randomly to the luckiest if not the most talented.

Genius was mean and cruel and scoffed
at the slightest adage of the pretentious fool
that published on the back of sententious matchbooks
but at night, in its writing window, overlooking
the lights of the town, it took off its war face
and summoned the moon to a tender seance
like a medium in love with the ghost of a muse
that was playing hard to get. O the fallacious brilliance
of our teaching errors. The illustrious craving
for dangerous love affairs with thresholds and taboos
that had never been crossed or broken before.
Did a knife ever sink into the heart
as deeply as those we fell upon
to discipline ourselves in the black arts
of our tragic flaws? All our fire pits
smothered in ashes by grieving women
who really meant it, though we were too depressed
to see them scattering our urns on the wind
to ceremoniously exorcise the feelings they had left for us.

Leave things as a token of what they are,
like stars light years ahead of themselves
plummeting into the darkness of the black holes
that lay ahead like hourglasses that would invert their souls
and leave them on the receiving end of their own hindsight.
Let the mirages deceive the deserts of the moon
into believing they were the ambassadors of watersheds
that could green a sea of shadows with wishing wells.
Permissive in my joys, it didn't hurt to be sparing in hell.
Something infernally elegant about compassion in a demon.
I wrote like a carillon of apostate bells, and books
began to appear on the staves of library shelves
like night birds in a museum, singing to themselves.

My life in art back then. A lucid agony of embryoes
curled up with their knees under their chins
like fossil question marks in encyclopedic shale
that preserved them like the juvenalia of my first attempts
to write about life as if deep in its heart
it secretly exceeded it own table of contents
in a hidden harmony of alternative endings.
Exotic exits from homely entrances,
after every poetry reading more people
felt like poppies than they did like wheat.
And I could see I'd made a good impression
on the death masks of the scarecrows
as I threshed the harvests I had sown
under a new moon of well-seasoned potential
that I shared with the birds like sunflowers at zenith
not earthworms in the starmud of a walled garden.

O delirious moment that counterpoints the past
reduced to the absurdity of recounting it
for the trivialities it turned on like microcosmic gates
that escaped our notice, but made all the difference
in the elaborate depths of the outcome.
A stolen typewriter in the hands of a radical friend.

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