never a dull mood
under a full moon
every night of june
has a new theory to prove
that stars can stay strung strong
and die years ago
and still lie where they belong
and the birds in their trees
chirp wildly unheard melodies
and the leaves stream as they leave
the brances embraced with bark; stems weave
in and out and in and out
and we don't have a childs chance in this world
to ever appreciate the blistering mysteries
like the wind in autumn touches my face
and the shadows that carress my strangely beautiful spectrum
of black, black and more black,
though white on occasion
it depends on my mood,
wrapped with the wind it spirals
and i admire the winter moon when its through
illuminates the sky until a new moon blooms
and not a moment too soon
cause the candles are dim and fair sighted apparitions
petition traditions of accepting every condition blindly,
as we cup our hands to our eyes to struggle to see
they believe what they see is a dream,
and our reality is ordinary--
ending far too soon,
but life is not short-- life is too long if anything
write your name on my will in good faith
and give you everything
i'll take a year to myself and slowly disappear
reappear and write my name in water
and see clear
that one day,
just maybe i can reinvent myself at 18
and blindly at 19
i'll re-evaluate dreams
as they seem, so far out of reach
and the startling sun sets strangely soaring
and settling
somewhere far southwest of this state,
simply to rise once more in my direction
stretched long out of sight.
the leaves are gone, but not for long
and it hits me, these seasons change like a song
but this sequence of timing is only one moment long,
and its horrible these days to say
i look through the obituary like a familiar photo album,
to see another face thats passed away
"he was a friend you see, a friend to me when i was just sixteen
he's gone at 18, and its strange to me
that when i beg to sleep
for good, not to speak
not to see, but simply to be
at rest and at peace
with this world and this life
that someone so happy, so modest
and auspicious
can drastically leave this
world in an instance--
and i the tortured the sinning the cunning;
addicted afflicted and dare i venture malignant,
am cursed to live on and on and on"
and sometimes i see the same thing twice,
and its alright, just alright
and sometimes i use the same words twice,
in a different instance,
but never more than a second or minute
and even still i feel fine
but life is overwhelming;
i imagine when i leave in autumn
back to the gutter to dream
the wind will seem calming--
and i'll be the chosen
and be cured of the curse of 30 moods a moment.