[1. From A Dusty Bookshelf]
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[2. All That Great Heart Lying Still]
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The nightingale is still locked in the cage
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The deep breath I took still poisons my lungs
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An old oak sheltering me from the blue
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Sun bathing on its dead frozen leaves
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A catnap in the ghost town of my heart
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She dreams of storytime and the river ghosts
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Of mermaids, of Whitman's and the ride
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Raving harlequins, gigantic toys
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A song of me song in need
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Of a courageous symphony
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A verse of me verse in need
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Of a pure-heart singing me to peace
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All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
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All that great heart lying still on an angelwing
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All that great heart lying still
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In silent suffering
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Smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end
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What is left for encore
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Is the same old dead boy's song
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Sung in silence
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All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
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All that great heart lying still on an angelwing
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A midnight flight into Covington Woods
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A princess and a panther by my side
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These are Territories I live for
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I'd still give mt everything to love you more
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[3. Piano Black]
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A silent symphony
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A hollow opus #1,2,3
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Sometimes the sky is piano black
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Piano black over cleansing waters
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Resting pipes, verse of bore
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Rusting keys without a door
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Sometimes the within is piano black
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Piano black over cleansing waters
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All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
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All that great heart lying still on an angelwing
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[4. Love]
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I see a slow, simple youngster by a busy street,
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with a begging bowl in his shaking hand.
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Trying to smile but hurting infinitely. Nobody notices.
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I do, but walk by.
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An old man gets naked and kisses a model-doll in his attic
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It's half-light and he's in tears.
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When he finally comes his eyes are cascading.
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I see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. He tries to bite me.
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All pride has left his wild eyes.
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I wish I had my leg to spare.
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A mother visits her son, smiles to him through the bars.
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She's never loved him more.
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An obese girl enters an elevator with me.
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All dressed up fancy, a green butterfly on her neck.
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Terribly sweeet perfume deafens me.
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She's going to dinner alone.
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That makes her even more beautiful.
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I see a model's face on a brick wall.
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A statue of porcelain perfection beside a violent city kill.
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A city that worships flesh.
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The 1st thing I ever heard was a wandering
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man telling his story
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It was you, the grass under my bare feet
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The campfire in the dead of night
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The heavenly black of sky and sea
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It was us
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Roaming the rainy roads, combing the guilded beaches
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Waking up to a new gallery of wonders every morn
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Bathing in places no-one's seen before
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Shipwrecked on some matt-painted island
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Clad in nothing but the surf - beauty's finest robe
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Beyond all mortality we are, swinging in the breath of nature
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In early air of the dawn of life
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A sight to silence the heavens
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I want to travel where life travels,
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following its permanent lead
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Where the air tastes like snow music
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Where grass smells like fresh-born Eden
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I would pass no man, no stranger, no tragedy or rapture
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I would bathe in a world of sensation
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Love, goodness and simplicity
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(While violated and imprisoned by technology)
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The thought of my family's graves was the only moment
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I used to experience true love
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That love remains infintie,
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as I'll never be the man my father is
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How can you "just be yourself"
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when you don't know who you are?
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Stop saying "I know how you feel"
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How could anyone know how another feels?
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Who am I to judge a priest, beggar,
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whore, politician, wrongdoer?
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I am, you are, all of them already
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Dear child, stop working, go play
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Forget every rule
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There's no fear in a dream
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"Is there a village inside this snowflake?"
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- a child asked me
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"What's the colour of our lullaby?"
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I've never been so close to truth as then
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I touched its silver lining
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Death is the winner in any war
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Nothing noble in dying for your religion
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For your country
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For ideology, for faith
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For another man, yes
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Paper is dead without words
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Ink idle without a poem
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| All the wor |
