One evening I met God
on a bench by the bubbling river
which divided the town.
And I asked him a question,
the most important one I could think of:
“What’s your favorite burrito?”
He seemed startled by it,
maybe even so far as off-put,
and he asked me “Why?”
I replied simply,
“Because no one else would ask you this
and perhaps you want to share.”
Call to me,
oh lover, lover –
call to me again.
I’ll love you even past sundown;
I’ll shout my love throughout the town.
I’ll love you ’til the stars fall down
and then, with them, I’ll craft your crown.
I’ll love as I’m sinking down
when on your love it is I drown.
Call to me,
oh lover, lover –
call to me again.
I’ll lovingly walk at your side
and hang upon your arm with pride.
I’ll love you by the riverside
when laughingly we’ll run and hide.
I’ll love you still ‘long the roadside
while we take the long miles all in stride.
Call to me,
oh lover, lover –
call to me again.
I’ll love you each and every night
and through each and every fight.
I’ll be your master, king, and knight
and serve my mistress to her delight.
I want to take you home tonight
is there any chance, my dear, we might…?
Listen now,
oh lover, lover:
of course my answer’s yes.
It’s a prison –
why can’t you see?!
No bars can hide my truth
and in this cage my soul flies free.
What is Jane Doe’s maiden name?
Who is this woman of mystery
who left home and hearth to follow John
into the dark of an unknown future?
Who was the bright girl behind this cold woman?
Who remains to remember her?
Who remains to care?
Charging forward undeterred,
a locomotive will;
screaming down the steely tracks:
a warhorse off to kill.
But Sleipnir’s stalwart progress,
which lead to victory,
was remembered by his victims
quite in infamy.
If you should hurt me,
I’ll give you a smile and then
turn the other cheek.
If you trouble me again,
I’ll explain once more
and pray you learned your lesson.
Should you wrong me thrice,
I will break your shallow pride
and hound all your descendants.
Warm is the home
whose tables bear marks
from cold glasses.
Cold is the home
whose furniture lacks
any laugh lines.
Go away.
Do not approach me,
do not talk to me,
don’t even look at me.
It’s enough
to have watched you fall
but I’ll not face you
ignorant of your sins.
Why do you never remark on
how much I flub and flounder
when you queue such querulous quips in moments
where only a few minutes of mindfulness
would ease the ache attached to one’s soul
which strains itself with such graspings that one
can barely breathe while deigning to deliver
what answers one is able to arrive upon.
Oh, how that creaseless smile
strums my heartstrings
and tugs at my memory.
I reach out to touch that joy,
and revel in remembrance
of golden days gone by.
A (wise) man of two faces 