Dishes cluttering in the sink
with more added all the time –
added with a clatter and clink
caked with gunk and with grime.
The laundry is piling so high
that it’s spilling out on the floor
and no matter how hard I try
I just can’t fit in any more.
The tables are covered in dust –
I no longer even care.
The shower is starting to rust
and the drain is clogged with hair.
How did things get so far gone?
What happened to my Avalon?
I saw it shining red
and slowing rising high,
an open wound that bled
up into the sky.
Some took it as a portent
of impending doom
and they, howling, went
off into the gloom.
Others were also disturbed
by the shining, sanguine sign
but their fears were curbed;
they knew things would be fine.
But only one of these is right –
perhaps you’ll find that answer tonight.
They’re hidden in plain sight,
all the secret signs:
the guideposts of the light,
the path of the divine.
Those who can conceive
all that they are gleaning
are those who also receive
the duty of its meaning.
They must travel at the fore
into the unknown dark
and blaze the way for more
who are following their marks.
And in this way each generation
carries on the conflagration.
They’re so self-important –
staring down their nose
regarding us as lesser, “ants”,
to be crushed beneath their toes.
They have only one lover
deserving their affection
and that one is no other
than their own reflection.
I have just as much use
for them as they for me
and often wish they’d choose
to love more quietly.
Because I don’t want to hear them prattle
about how they’re cowboys and not cattle.
I called you silly names
to try to catch your eye
and played your silly games
while thinking myself sly.
I used to snap your bra
just to watch you jump
while the things in you I saw
made me swallow back a lump.
I carried all your books
to prove that I was strong
and complimented your looks
because I wanted to belong.
Now looking back, it’s plain to see
all the changes that you made in me.
I brought you some fresh flowers
to try and make you smile
but you made me wait for hours
and they wilted meanwhile.
I took you out to supper
and we sat out on the deck.
You ordered the lobster
and stiffed me with the check.
I asked you to the theater
and paid the way for you
then waited by the greeter
because I couldn’t pay for two.
And watched you walk out hand-in-hand
at the side of another man.
One day I made a pact
with a devil, strong and stout:
I would get the strength I lacked
and it would never be cast out.
Years later came a man
who tried to drive it away.
But I gave him a reprimand
and told him it could stay.
Because I knew that it would fade
when I was loved inside and out –
a statement which made
it rise up and shout:
“But you won’t love me ‘cause I’m special – I’ll just be the same
as all the other people who are calling out your name!”
Along the twisting trails
by the rivers and the streams
and on the rusty rails
under the bright sunbeams.
Traveling by the tiny shoots
and through rustling meadows
and over exposed roots
under forest shadows.
All that’s surrounding me
takes my breath away.
This natural beauty
holds me in its sway.
And I’m struck by all the grace
lingering in this verdant place.
Many a shifty shade
drifts about unseen
in spectral promenade
in the spaces in between.
Hiding in the corner
and in between the walls
and behind all the furniture
and down the empty halls.
But if you’re idly dozing,
you may get quite the fright
of such a spirit posing
seemingly in plain sight.
And though you try best as you can
you may not get to sleep again…
I’m struggling ‘gainst the call
of my soft and comfy bed.
I’m giving it my all
to stay up late instead.
For it’s only at these times
that I really hit my stride
and mark all the extra chimes
with a slight swelling of pride.
But time’s heavy, leaden hand
keeps knocking me to the floor
and though I try to stand
I just can’t take it anymore.
So I accept my defeat
as I crawl between the sheets.
A (wise) man of two faces 