You Called Me Up (a song for Jess)

 Yesterday while I was out delivering the mail, I wrote a song for the second of my ex wives. It’s a country song, apparently. 

The Moon of Endless Failure

 It was a world of competing interests and the ever increasing influence of performative ignorance. This was nothing new. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever did. A world of pretense toward morality and meaning. A world of secret contracts and contracted disease. A world of decaying infrastructure. 

And he hated it. He hated all the strenuous effort required to maintain a measure of daily calm in a world so riven by low men and their rivalries. 

He was tired of public officials and the official public rhetoric. He was tired of their much lauded but never demonstrated love. He was so tired.

As the moon of endless failure rose into the evening sky he knew that they would, given the chance, throw us all into the fires of the furnace for a dollar. 

Epiphany In Uncertain Times

Come now, visit and bless

this house, this home

with a gladness and glory unknown

in dark and desperate days

Show us how to rise up in splendor 

when darkness covers the earth

when thick clouds of satanic deception 

have taken control  and taken the soul 

of people I know and love

Come to make all things plain 

Come to make all things clear

here where our hearts throb and overflow 

with grotesque exaggerations 

and slow suffocation 

The global injustice

and domestic terror

the home grown police violence

of shadow puppets 

and selfish prophets

have obscured the stars of hope

Even so, the grace given to me 

is still a mystery

the light has dawned and the glory come

like justice a flower

Bless all who live here 

with the gift of your love

seeing and being seen

knowing and being known 

20+C+M+B+25

You Cut Me (The Knife Don't Know)

The other day I had the nonsense phrase "The knife doesn't know you cut me," stuck on repeat in my mind. It sounded to me like the refrain of a black comedy country song - and that's what it became. I hope you like it. 

Inanimate objects don't know the things we know
the rocks and stones can't feel when the winter storms do blow
I don't blame the knife you carried; it was completely unaware
The knife don't know you cut me, but you don't care. 

I ain't sayin' I was easy, only that you were unkind
you never let me hear the music playin' in your mind
or was it that you had no songs, no melody of your own 
and that's why you would cut me to the bone? 

You, you cut me, cut me to watch me bleed
You, you cut me, I'd show you the scars but there's no need
Maybe you won't hear it but darlin' I gotta' share: 
The knife don't you you cut me, it's you that doesn't care. 

Your lips were hard as iron, your kisses cold and sharp
you never let me hear the beating of your heart
Every act of kindness, every loving touch I gave
you returned to me like a slash from your blade. 

You, you cut me, cut me to watch me bleed
You, you cut me, I'd show you the scars but there's no need
Maybe you won't hear it but darlin' I gotta' share: 
The knife don't you you cut me, it's you that doesn't care. 

Half Deaf and Unsure

 

Now half deaf and unsure 

if the silence 

or the roaring voice is real 

A thunderous, bottomless noise 

in the freezing cold  

of a windowless room 

The lights gone out 

crushed skulls thrown forward 

knocked out, dead 

oh God, oh God 

Ghostly floating silver 

obsidian sparkle 

lights extinguished by pain 

Blind danger, gasping in surprise 

for all the fumbling frustrations 

all the blood from the mouth, the head 

Oh God, oh blind God 

not this, or anything else 

God, not this

The Shadows of the Dead

It’s time now for stepping out for the shadows of the dead. 

Make a close examination of the brain and of the head. 

Close up the face, close and blind your eyes. 

We’re staring at the stars without looking at the skies. 

The world of the living dead is every day reborn. 

With each resuscitation comes renewed hate and scorn. 

Time passes quickly here, even faster than we know. 

Repeated and recycled, the chaos only grows. 

Do not think about the void, ignore the alarms. 

Let the darkness of the night fill you with its charms. 

There’s life and death in blood and paychecks every week. 

But there’s no light in the counterfeit life you seek.