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GlancesGlancesCock-eyed and crookedOut of the cornersPowerful and expressiveThey linger for recognitionWaving wildlyFlags for the shy
Ghost of the CloudsIt covers the scenery like a gauzy shroud;It adds tension and mysteryTo the flat and static;It can lighten the dark,And he can darken the day;It clings to the buildingslike a spider-webbut leaves not a tracewhen you brush it away;Fog can lurkAnd fog can flow;It is something present,Yet indefinable;Fog is the ghost of cloudsAnd the spirit of fallen skyFog is shyNature's wall-flowerAlways overshadowed by that jockOf an afternoon sunOr that bullyOf a mid-day rainFog does not dictate your dressBut merely suggestsYou don a coat Fleeting Yours, Mr. Con D. Insation
Freedom WillingThere you sit, off in a cornerTalking in speech, foreign to the foreignerLaughing and smiling, you shake aboutEver so suddenly you let forth a shout"Ah!" You cry, like suddenly knowingAll the while, my curiosity growingWhat must it be like, to be dealt such a hand?Trapped in a body, like the shell of a manOdd from birth, outcast as suchLife flew by quickly, like silence from "hush"Death for you, brings freedom willingAs my eyes feel the water buildingBut go you must, you're owed that at leastYou were never allowed to sample life's feastAs the autumn leaves lightly fellYou bid us all good-bye, farewellBut in mind, Joel, you'll live onLong, long afterYour laughter is gone
End of a CenturyDon't take me back,I know it wasn't real,Nothin' but some tom-foolery,Like a top hat wearing sealSend me off to my dreams,Let the professor meet me there,Tell him, me and Romey-boyWill meet him at the square
Does the Prince KnowDoes the prince know what he would leave behindif he were to die tonight in his sleep?Does he know how his parents hearts would decline;or how many ladies would weep?Does he know of the quests and battleshe has yet left untouched?Does he know of the legions of friendsto whom he has meant so much?Does he know of how his brothers dreams would darkenwishing he could have done him right?Does the prince know life is so much morethan a collection of days and nights?
Dusty BootsDusty bootsWell-worn andWind-sweptTell timeless talesOf miscreeds andMisdeedsBut also whisperOf those few braveWho righted themDusty bootsShape and moldAquatinting themselvesWith the encircledLike a pack of ferociousCottonballsDusty bootsClip and clopLike partnered raindropsOn a vastTin roofDusty bootsAre too pointedTo make small talkIn cocktailingFigure-8'sDusty bootsAlready usedWhen sold newComfortably walkTowards eternityWith the men who resurrect them
Dinner at Rosetti'sShall we all meet up for dinner tonightWhere the crystal's been lit by violet light,Where the butlers are all casual penguinsAnd all the coat-checks all named Huck Finn,Ask Alice to dance in her bonny blue dressTry the Hatter's tea while pausing to rest,Disappear from yesterdayLet tomorrow sort it out,Dinner tonight at Rosetti'sI heard the word's got out,Be sure to wear your tailsAnd even a top hat too,I'd ask my friend, the wombat, to drinkWere it not for those damn humidor blues
Deciding FateThe ghost climbs atop the battlementsThe pains of a lifetime, blind his tear-soaked eyesOn inches he stands, feeling despair battle hope
Dark GirlDark girl, with the soft black eyesLike shadows, behind her bobbed raven hairWhich she stole off an ethnic mannequinat a funeral home last weekNo, she doesn't really need itBut she didn't really need the despaircaused by such a murky prognosisAnd she could have done without the dripping I.V. bagthat made flinching shadows in the dying lightAnd she loathed the shine of her bald headas it reflected onto her black ribboned-wristsBut it's the start of another dark seasonand she likes to accessorize.