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The Last of the TroubadoursIn the jingle jangle morning
I found him,
Shadowed in a corner,
Beaten down by expectations,
Here he lies,
Amidst relics and remembrances,
Exactly where appreciation left him
And I turn away
Cursing time and critics
The last of the troubadours
The Insomniac's LullabySomeone find a bugler,
this day is at an end,
But for the lonely insomniac
"taps" call battle to begin
So pull back your cover's soft
and tuck yourself in tight
Prepare yourself for the daily war
that happens every night
Close your eyes tightly shut
pray for some kind of rest
But the ghosts of past days always appear
unanswered moral tests
Maybe sheep might be the answer,
he's heard it works for some
But the insomniac just keeps a' counting
and winds up feeling dumb
Maybe music could be the key,
a melody soft and sweet
But pretty soon he's singin' along
and dreams are lost to the beat
Maybe pills will end this struggle
insomniacs really have no choice
Though he stays silent with his mouth
in his head, he hears a voice
"Who's the idiot behind the button-fly?"
and "Didn't that blonde, today, look cute?"
He wonders what's her favorite song
and the look of her birthday suit
Eyes closed, he smiles so sweetly
for everything tomorrow might bring
The lonely insomniac fades off to sleep
Sweet Alder StreetI boarded the tram in the usual way
And at the onset, twas just a normal day
Until a quick stop on Alder Street
When an odd fellow I did chance meet
He told me of a day gone by
When luck smiled and gave surprise
A nickel candy bought at a store
Opened up to reveal half more
So amazed was he by this half of three
He decided to keep it, for sake's posterity
"Where is this mythic candy now?" I ask
To which he sighs I weary, "alas,
I got stoned later that very same day
And devoured the sweet without delay
So it up to you, to relate this feat
Of a nickel candy, worth 1 1/2 treats"
Ships PassingTrippin' down a sideways street,
Where weary warriors begin their retreat;
Each responsible for a silent shuffle,
Woven together creates the bustle;
People burdened with unknowable worry,
Leaving them only time to hurry.
Sad Eyes BlindFirst sight love does not exist but rather, the inclination to love at first sight/ catching one's eye and holding it with possibilities / you caught my eye on a black night / unsure and unsteady I stood / behind a tapping glass / with companions sided I stood / those sad eyes should have keyed me in / but I was occupied by a bright smile / we sat bar side / and smoked tales of little consequence / and the it was finished / the glass barrier replaced / hope for insecurity / not a bad trade.
The constant rivalry between moon and sun raged a long time before you again took a nearby seat / but the talk was still the same / personable and loud / and soon the hope returned / giving me a false confidence / passengers side seated in your own car / e inspired / love driven / I confessed a fondness / that was drowned out a rambling e-centric sentences and idle promises / until you left inside you.
Trips and trippin' occupied the following months / an uneasy friendship once caccooned now arose a
Reflections off the WaterLet people see it the way they choose,
They will recognize love and beauty that much easier;
Let the mighty rivers of ideas run ceaselessly,
While the babbling brooks of convention amble gradually onward,
Let the torrent white-waters of revolution
With the treacherous swamps of racism and mistrust
Eventually all the waters known to man
Must merge together into a larger ocean
Of tolerance and understand
The ocean does not consider origins
Does not deny entry based on purity or perceived value
The sea will welcome the smallest raindrop from the dirtiest gutter
With the same support and encompassing respect
That it would for all the bottled water on Madison Ave.
For the ocean is the oldest of all things earthly
And it has watched solemnly as the monuments of time
rise up against unity and reason
And this earthly patriarch has welcomed
Each naïve family member back,
When the waves of self-destruction and greed
Finally submerge all hope in the promise
That anything can be
Reflected GloryIt's no use dreaming anymore
They tell me,
We already did that,
It's used up
We already stood up
And sat in
We already wrote lyrics
And cared about the words
Those days are gone
When imagination was harvested
Instead of 'King Capital'
When vagabonds donned hero's armor
And soldiers wore disdain
"We were just kids"
While adjusting their Beemer's roof
Gone but not forgotten
Mounted on the wall
Like a memory
That can't be revisited
Promises of BeautyHow many are there?
Angels I have loved,
but never known.
From the girl with the braided hair
sitting in a Mexican
To the shy beauty
in the back of an English class.
They are all
in that great expanse of my mind.
They are not clearly defined
feelings which float ethereally
across my conscious,
whenever a pleasant perfume
catches my nose,
or when a spring sun shines down
melting a frozen sidewalk.
They are not loves
but merely rays of hope.
Promises of the beauty
that constantly surrounds me.
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