Sounds&Verses

She blocks the sun with her hand

knows what my mind is thinking

ghost ships halted and sinking

she blocks the sun with every rain

reminds me of fool's advice

love is not free

in this paradise.

Turning down the path

where are we

where are we

it's simple at best

sliding into a calm mess.

She blocks the sun with her hand

knows just where we're going

realizing with a smile

there is no way of knowing

she blocks the sun with her pain

lies down to rest

the sky denying

her soft request

the bridge decaying

this wasteland

of vertical straying

across blue masses

to construct the center

again

falling through the feeling in your hands

footprints in the sand

that make no sense.

Turning from the dead end

where are we

where are we

It's life blessed

Among this sudden distress.

She blocks the sun with her hand

knows what my heart is making

shrugs me off

returns me to the race

she blocks the sun with her presence

shining lamp of a goddess

her resistance

strikes mutiny in rough hearts.

Turning from the dead end

where are we

where are we

It's reckless out west

slipping into a calm mess.

Get in the car

anticipate the roads with your eyes

don't forget to notice

people degrading each other

don't forget to call

she would be the first to see you

no glory when you get there.

Get in the car

he will only bite the roads

leave you shaped in his seat

don't forget to pray

for the next caution sign

she will be the first to say

no prize for first place.

Get in the car

only if you do first

stop stumbling around

with your packaged NY medicine

don't forget to mention

you left your identification

she will be the first to initiate modification

no police report written.

Get in the car

hands where I can see them

legs chained to the floor

pressed face for show

don't forget to amend your statement

to reflect what they found in your ashtray

she will be the first to revoke bail

no love at the end of this rope.

Purdy's, next stop Croton Falls

stand clear of the sliding doors

watch your step

mind the gap.

Croton Falls, next stop Brewster

the end of the line

mind the gap

mind the gap.

Get in the car

you paid the man

under the table

no pressure needed

an exercise in free will in Brewster, NY

railroad to change

pick and risk yourself

no one cares if you fail to create.

When I penetrate that doorway

memories will flood into me

and dreams will surface.

I will feel the cold heat

from the old kerosene.

I will walk those curved stairs

to the attic, to my room.

I'll remember the birth

of all those blind kittens

crawling to the corner of my bed.

I'll remember death

in the wall by a sledgehammer.

When I fall through the cracks

that scarred my first sleep,

the nightmares that awakened me,

the pain that startled me,

seeing myself in the mirror.

I'll visualize all those

roses and morning glories

that bloomed and survived

my backyard landscape.

I will pick the sickly rose

and let the thorns

tear my hands with blood.

I'll explore the backyard.

All those weeds in the garden

haven't disappeared

and the path out back

will be hard to follow.

I don't have the empty step of a child.

I will lay the rose

next to the rotting apple tree

where I buried those blind kittens

when they learned to see.

When I'm done seeing myself again

in that mirror

that broke so many times.

I'll escape free of the past

and never go back.

ruler of love

measured in mountaintops

severed elegy

transmitted off generation

cloaked image

crucified in false damnation

chief of respect

in path and strength

a destiny at length

from letters of intimidation

to fists of rage

Birmingham to Selma

ancestral shackles

strip man shift blame

share the bread

fallen from the table

substance in truth

fixed as captive

bayonets on the bread lines

empty rides in Montgomery

weary motion in Washington

triumph oh heart

depleted master

triumph oh mind

forgive master

never forget

share the bread

fallen from the table

testament in sacrifice

scroll burns injustice

the righteous in muted song

no answer in Memphis

cut off

from the lost soul of Lincoln

tolerance divides

respect revives

he learned Gandhi

peace in himself

share our bread

fallen from the table

First thought

seize the bottle from the drunken beast

to save the face of the beautiful bar maiden.

Second thought

secure the arena of the only bar

that I would stand up for in a fight.

Persuade with force the two inhabitants

abusing their presence

in the bar to leave.

Keg on my head

the confusion around the door

is it open or closed?

Flashes during the blackout

of his hand hitting my nose

the metamorphosis of my eyes

into the mad gleam of a barbarian

outside myself

strong.

I can take a punch.

The smooth way my fist rolled off his head.

Take it out of the bar

flesh not liquid

spilling beer is the worst injustice

you can do to a man

willing to stick up for a bar

desperate.

I can take a punch.