Feast of Trumpets – A New World Awaits

12 AM.

(An Imitation of W.S. Di Piero’s “12,” from “Shrine with Flowers”)

The filtered moonlight, refracting
in flux, diffused like mottled blotches
of something sweet, soothes me in my sleep.
The silver ripples’ Morphean translations
stir the silence; I wince awake,
the itch of pitted slumber gnawing deep,
while the sheets that cradled me
brutally betray me, drown me.
My half-dreamt dreams’ echoes sharpen,
now a Stygian dirge, a dying din
living in limbo, lulling me back:
“Come and see me, see me.”

 

Dark Chocolate

you get used to it
hell
half your family loves it
that driving pang, visceral
unavoidable unless resisted
and you can resist it
and they cant see it in your eyes
or taste it on the corner of your lips
or feel it in your pocket
with their hand in your pants
as you melt at their touch

it wasn’t there at the top of the Ferris wheel
orbiting happiness on a hundred foot rope
and you weren’t horribly hungry yet
nor had your taste arisen back at 7-11
when it would have been free

indulge
it’s pleasurably guilty
if a bit rich

and the wrapper tells a story without
words or images only tastes and smells
and feelings and
nobody listens
because they are too busy stuffing their faces already
on king sized tantalizing grapes they’ve earned
by not giving away their
milk-chocolate-covered
Pelops son for a feast that could be broken up into
12 little rectangles of momentary
happiness

indulge

 

Chill

1

a knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark;
am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?
do I have to keep up the pace to keep you satisfied?
patiently wait to hear the words you never said?
‘cause I know that’s what you want me to do.
but you will always get what you want,
don’t act like it’s not happening.
same old story since day one:
I was fine, just a guy living on my own,
I knew all along that I was right.
you hardly even notice when I try to show you.
it’s on display for you,
you’re blind to all the things that you don’t need.
ain’t never gonna understand
you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.
our hearts were ringing in the key that our souls were singing,
but, then again, that doesn’t mean you mean that much to me.

2

I made a lot of mistakes in my mind,
but, baby, I’ve been here before.
It doesn’t matter if that’s good enough for someone else,
and, yeah, I know it’s stupid
I’m trying to tell myself that I’m better off alone,
but I need more than myself this time.
I won’t lose it, I won’t lose it.
I need something more.
I’m entitled to so much more.
But I’ll kneel down.

3

if I knew where I was going, I’d lose my way.
chasing something, feeling dumb,
fallin’ all over myself;
all this time, I was tryna be
waging wars to shape the poet and the beat,
so I started writin’ songs, I started writin’ stories.
I wish I had a better voice that sang some better words;
sing with me, sing for today,
and sometimes, it’s a sad song.
you don’t wanna save me; sad is my song.

4

but things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do,
the smoke and drinks become a little more than just for fun.
I’ve been looking for a way out;
for once, there is nothing up my sleeve.
not born a fool, but I’ve found my door.
I can see the path that leads away;
who can say where the road goes?
my soul will have to wait ‘til I get back.
I know we’re only halfway there,
but now, I have finally seen the end, and I’m not expecting you to care.
I’m a thousand miles away,
coming back down from space;
this life is an exploration,
it all comes at once.

5

ever since I was little, it looked like fun;
nothing seems as pretty as the past, though,
and I’m speeding into a new sunrise –
just another way to survive.
“I never worry.” Now that is a lie;
through the pain, I always tell the truth,
and it hurts less every day.
is this the way that I should feel?
I am nothing, I am no one’s fault.
satisfaction is a distant memory, and I
don’t wanna live as an untold story.
I hope I’m remembered for the things that I never made.
put me down
just don’t let me disappear.
they say “oh, how the good die young,
just like that they’re gone,”
and my youth I pray to keep,

so farewell.

6

eternal silence of the sea.
waiting for the fog to roll out,
the world is a cold, cold place to be.
let the rain fall, I don’t care;
this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.
I drift along the ocean; dead lifeboats in the sun
and it’s like looking down the barrel of a gun

and it feels so real

7

is this really what I want? I’m not sure.
and what good would it be?
I don’t feel time when I sleep,
and if you want these kind of dreams,
when the thunder and lightning come,
have some sympathy.
take it slow.
it’s all a wash.
and, true, it may seem like a stretch,
but between the drinks and subtle things
(pretending to not feel alone),
I’m fashionably numb.
take a look at me, ‘cause I could not care at all.

8

here comes a feeling you thought you’d forgotten
– a different kind of feeling –
I can’t stop this feeling,
but I love it. the rush is amazing,
all the things you do because the drugs never work
– we take strange things to feel normal –
you’ve seen the difference, and it’s getting better,
it’s just a matter of time.

9

there’s a chance we could make it now;

if you said goodbye to me tonight, there’d still be music left to write.

 

Source Playlist:
https://open.spotify.com/user/12173656519/playlist/2NgsvacW42P5SZJIajieWu
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