Spring Sonnets
by Drake Raft © 1996
Drake2100

i.
I'm riding high on a wave of culture,
I'm at the right place, and it's the right time,
I'm here to put my claim on the future,
I feel a beauty in meter and rhyme.
But it's more than a feeling inside me,
It's that mysterious movement of men,
In the chaos, a new order they see,
And youthful spirits rebel once again.
But tragedy takes up half of the stage,
I should leave this wave, and swim for the docks,
For I 've heard these waves break and foam with rage,
Dashing the greatest men upon the rocks.
I try to rise above phenomena,
But my life is leased under nature's law.
ii.
Oh can you feel? Can you feel us losing,
touch with a higher form of consciousness?
This freedom I found myself abusing,
I can have it all, but it's meaningless.
But beware, for when man loses meaning,
That is when rhyming religions arise,
The pedant says it's meaningless dreaming,
I wonder what he will say when he dies?
'Cause there's a piece of people I perceive,
That indulgence shall never satisfy,
There are those who'd rather die than deceive,
So a brave new order they ratify.
Never confuse a poet with his poems,
One is stagnant while the other yet roams.
iii.
You, stopped at the light, where are you going?
I can hear your favorite tape playing,
So young and so much you see worth knowing,
Believing all your hormones are saying.
The rock'n'roll prophets keep rebelling,
Stripping culture down to the bare bone,
The less they say, the louder they're yelling.
What can we deconstruct when nothing's known?
But we've always been the empty people,
Locked in this ephemeral consciousness,
Making men Gods, and concert halls steeples,
If it's not all for not, it's all for less.
Just give me green grass, and leaves on a tree,
Let the winds of culture blow on by me.
iv.
Oh once there were these visions in my mind,
Even the echoes are fading away,
The beauty is taken by time unkind,
But this dying dream inspires me to say:
I believed in sun sets while in your arms,
And the full moon became a reality,
I learned winter's the season which is warm,
But then you said you needed to be free.
While my heart breaks, the visions awaken,
Seven years ago is but yesterday,
From my soul I wish you were forsaken,
But I 've learned it's not up to me to say.
How does your beauty continue to be?
Or is it just something inside of me.
v.
There's nothing left here to rebel against,
Yesterday's sixties did it all for me,
By institutions my mind wasn't fenced,
And now there's nowhere for me to break free.
Dillon and the Beatles have their mansions,
In exchange we can order MTV,
Come sit back and enjoy the recession,
Rebellion's included in cable's fee.
I 'd say society's on the decline;
If I thought it had a place to fall from.
The rockers insist it's pretty fine,
You may as well go die for their freedom.
When cause for lost generations is found,
They get married six feet under ground.
vi.
To my father, who watched over my course,
Straightened me when the winds blew me astray,
In times of emptiness he was the force,
That gave me a reason to rise each day.
He believed in knowledge, and in pursuit
Of the subtle truths that lie in nature.
He perceived that college, could a mind suit
With ideas to mold a greater future.
Oh! How far the world's from this ideal!
It's all just a game with no truth nor law,
Could not my father see that it's not real?
That no good in this world's without its flaw.
He closed the book, put it back on the shelf,
"Never confuse the world, son, with yourself."
vii.
The greater part of us stands ignored,
The ocean deep, the dark side of the moon,
Hidden in its sheath we keep our soul's sword,
On our sleeve we wear our chosen word's tune.
So we only ever see what we seem,
The machine of these thoughts you'll never know,
Only on the surface does the lake gleam,
But the blue silence reaches far below.
So think of these things, before you opine,
And believe that you have me figured out,
For I myself can not myself divine,
The furthest stars are closer than my heart.
Look at me, friend, what do you see?
This poetry that really isn't me.
viii.
It 's tradition that tradition grows weak,
Poet's words are used by those in power,
To obtain for themselves all they do seek,
The words grow weaker with each passing hour.
The people watch themselves unite in sin,
All that's left of innocence is the word,
You know for you too the fall does begin,
The moment you repeat the lies you've heard.
Corrupted old words all must collapse,
Like weathered planks of an abandoned barn,
Dreams of forever eventually lapse,
A tradition of decay is time's yarn.
But it's no-one's fault, we're slaves of the past,
Time forgives flesh, as only time can last.
ix.
I ask you my friend, to not be deceived,
Into thinking these thoughts are feelings;
All feelings long ago were received,
To find my core these words I am peeling.
Somewhere within, buried down deep by time,
Is a simple truth I once saw so clear;
From it rose these fleeting phrases of rhyme,
Echoes of the past, I write what I hear;
With the hopes that someday I shall return,
To where the present was enough for me;
Where each day was free from having to earn;
An excuse for me to write, breathe, and be.
Someday for sure I will write my way back,
To again possess the youth I now lack.
x.
Do you wonder at what motivates you?
Compelling you to dive in with the group?
Perhaps you feel too, desire to be true,
And pain when reason leads you in a loop.
My hands reach to fondle books on a shelf,
The abstract ideals I seek to explain,
Only succeeding in fooling myself,
Behind this fluff made of words, I am plain.
Forgive me for this inadequacy;
Seeing only emptiness is my fault,
But in a world of change, leaves fall from trees,
Feeling empty prepares me for the vault.
To spend life filing fleeting thoughts away,
All along knowing, there's nothing to say.
xi.
Not out of spite, nor revenge, but because,
There are simple truths in which I believe,
Natural as nature, fate's final clause,
That but by noble reason man does conceive.
The mind's been overthrown by soulless beasts,
Breeding a people void of consciousness,
Though the sun yet still rises in the East,
No longer can it relieve the darkness.
For this morning the mist, it would not clear,
The leaves changed color, though it was yet spring,
Those with perception know the lonely fear,
That this eclipse of reality does bring.
Is it the time, place, or only me?
Didn't create it-- it's but what I see.
xii.
The time has come to let the poet lie;
To kill within an inborn tragedy;
That drives one to define and then defy
Rules to further one's waning potency.
To admit my fears, to accept my death,
My voyage has brought me round full circle;
With fleeting words, my invisible breath,
I attempt to preserve this miracle.
Who prepared this fate which I never chose?
Humbled by my rhyme, I don't understand,
That from nothing these hands and dreams arose,
Only to return to fertilize the land.
Vanity lies in all rhyme and beauty;
When we let the poet lie, we'll be free.
xiii.
I witnessed fall today, the leaves all changed,
I drove through time, up along the east coast,
It was October, though the tree's leaves ranged,
From dark green to branches of rustling ghosts.
Before Virginia, I saw the first hints,
A lone orange tree with a yellow friend,
Hidden in every tree were deep red glints,
In a second, summer came to an end.
And through the foliage raged a brilliant fire,
Yesterday's regrets were all burned away,
In my heart there grew a brand new desire,
When I saw her next, I knew what I 'd say:
Though some leaves change early, and others late,
To endure forever is my love's fate.
xiv.
When I was young, I used to look forward,
To a camping adventure in the woods,
With dad's knife I 'd fashion a wooden sword,
Prayed a week for the weather to be good.
Then I got older, a girl looked my way,
Still remember the soft sweaters she wore,
She said she liked to listen to me say,
All the things that other kids did ignore.
Back then it was more than enough to talk,
But I grew to see her in a new way,
Knowledge burdens me wherever I walk,
And the magic forest has died away.
She left this lonely tramp to rise'n roam,
I 've roamed back, but I 've never found home.
xv.
Never cared much for poetic fashions,
For fashion is but a crutch for the dull,
Who stand removed from the call of passion,
And yet they say my words aren't full.
They turn me away saying poems don't rhyme;
That today's structure is unstructured verse,
But I know on my side I 've got time,
For art is eternal while fashions are terse.
Don't worry, I don't feel so neglected,
For I 've grown to fear what the critics think,
And I write my poems to be rejected,
Waiting for the rain in which fashion sinks.
Who is God enough to say I am wrong?
When all I do is sing my own heart's song.
xvi.
I left the street and headed back to Forbes,
I was condemned to study in my room,
I looked up at the brilliant silver orb,
And thought how physics had ruined the moon.
There used to be such power in a star,
It brought tears to my eyes as a small child,
A little speck so brilliant, yet so far,
Science tames, blunting the edge of the wild.
Does knowing the moon's not made of green cheese,
Make a landscape bathed in its light more pure?
Does knowing what makes water droplets freeze,
Add to a December ice storm's allure?
Throw physics to the dogs, I 'll none of it,
I much prefer a pretty girl with wit.
xvii.
There was a girl with dark hair and dark eyes,
I didn't think I would ever meet her,
I first saw her prettiness from afar,
From my box seat I admired her allure.
Dead week one night, just before reunions,
We sat together under an empty tent,
So familiar, a previous union,
We shared our thoughts with barely a comment.
She told me she liked the empty dance floor,
Filled with waltzing ghosts from yester-years past.
I guess that's what these reunions are for,
To bring back to life that which would not last.
I like it too this way, I did agree,
Magic in the air, and just you and me.
xviii.
I was lost and tired, alone in the dark,
The music was noise, my senses were numb,
The rain threatened to extinguish my spark,
Without you Milt, I wouldn't have become.
You took me in out of the cold night air,
And became an audience who believed,
Where others passed by, you saw something there,
That stormy night, this poet was conceived.
You saved me from the most evil teachers,
Who break down what they don't understand,
Erasing individual features,
Sculpting one to fit a role that they planned.
You told me to trust my talent is wise;
In art, only your feelings can advise.
xix.
I 'm just a guy who never had a friend,
Who didn't steel from him when he turned 'round,
But then with you my heart began to mend,
I see true friendship in your eyes I 've found.
It's OK, you know, whatever you do,
Cause I know in the end I 'll be with you,
Each other's eyes we will always see through,
But I don't need to, you'll always be true.
Never liked a girl like I do like you,
Always felt someone's leading someone on,
I 've fallen a lot, but each time I grew,
Love recedes, but my brown-eyed friend lives on.
Who'd have ever thought we'd make it this far?
Two kids running westward under the stars.
xx.
The time has arrived, to exchange good-byes.
A tear on your cheek, a tear in my eye.
How I wish I could find the words to say,
To slow this evening down, to make it stay.
The seasons keep changing, I dont know why,
We want to rearrange them, I try and try.
I wish I could find, a musical rhyme,
That would save this moment and capture time.
You brought out these words, from deep within me,
Showed me so much, I could never see.
I know that Ive found, forever in you,
Forever never ends, forever Ill be true.
Tomorrow tomorrow will be today,
Hold me close, don't let go of yesterday.
xxi.
When I feel I am holding forever,
Those are the moments when poems are written,
A mysterious force transcends clever,
Other moments by envy are smitten.
Deep within the words, I forget myself,
And let flow that which I 've been holding back,
I search all my mind for the hidden shelf,
Where thoughts plan their ambush in a dream attack.
I know not from where all these words arise,
Or why this force lives in the universe,
What makes poems good I can only surmise,
It's enough for me to just write this verse.
And if reading this helps to ease the pain,
Then I know my efforts were not in vain.
xxii.
Looking down from the top of his mountain,
He saw them all playing in the fountain,
It wasn't so long that he was down there,
But paranoid, he feared it wasn't fair.
With a burning heart he made his bold stand,
Tuned his mind and soul, started up the band,
Within a mystery started to shine,
Light came from him, the melody was mine.
The people saw it, envied their new king,
There he found out they didn't know a thing,
The king's tragedy's never to be free,
Oh, I know the people, the stranger's me.
I thought at the top I 'd finally be free,
But I'm owned by a stranger, the stranger's me.
xxiii.
I saw a girl's face three nights in a row,
But each day the dream would fade from my head,
I was sad to see her so quickly go,
Wondered what possibly I could've said.
I tried to capture the moment in rhyme,
To keep the dream from fading in the day,
With words I try to capture magic time,
But it rolls on, no matter what I say.
She brought out these words from deep within me,
I would have never thought of on my own,
I wrote a poem for her green eyes to see,
She took my words in, and left me alone.
Although the world often leads me astray,
My pen's my friend, my poems are here to stay.
xxiv.
I thank you for all my inspiration,
My sweet lost loves and yesterday's young friends,
A universe in our short relations,
Before we parted for our private ends.
And in return for the life you gave me,
I give to all the lonely hearts this poem,
So often it seems we alone do see,
How hard it is never to return home.
And where else would I rather be right now,
Than the yesterdays where we offered proof,
That Princeton was a most beautiful show.
I remember-- I remember our youth.
The feelings fade as we're swept out to sea,
And time, time erases what's left of me.
xxv.
You won by claimin' the times are changin',
And now you're the one calling all the shots,
Well time's never done with rearrangin',
The present king come tomorrow is not.
You believed your rebellion was divine,
It was making the world a better place,
And now that you're up top, everything's fine,
But I know you're worried behind that face.
The ambiguity is eating at you,
For you once believed ideas were empty,
Now for your ideas old beliefs hold true,
And you walk your own plank into the sea.
You've double crossed yourself on the far side,
Here from tragedy, there's nowhere to hide.
xxvi.
To live through the New Jersey slush and snow,
It's worth it, to see the blossoming spring,
For though in March it looks like snow won't go,
The May flowers April showers do bring.
Prospect's bushes explode into blue flame,
The old tree beside Walker blossoms pink,
Daffodils put architecture to shame,
But her two lips are about what I think.
The grass in Rocky springs an emerald green,
The sounds of tennis are heard once again,
Come dusk, in the court yard we shall convene,
Over by the lilacs I 'm meeting Jen.
Of all the things spring brings to old Nassau,
Each year I looked forward to my heart's thaw.
xxvii.
I thank you for contemplating the light,
The light of the evening's star studded dome,
For shedding on it an internal light,
An eternal light, a light of your own.
I thank you for teaching me to be free,
To be free and allow my heart to roam,
Roam to the edge of curiosity,
On curiosity's wind, free I 'm blown.
I thank you for telling me to believe,
To believe in my own intuition,
Only through it do we ever receive,
Do we ever behold our true vision.
But beyond this, and all that can be known,
Thank you for making Princeton feel like home.
xxviii.
Time is not a solid reality,
It is but a mode by which we learn to think,
It only possesses validity,
Because of the events we seek to link.
A moving clock is known to tick slower,
At the speed of light all the ticks do cease,
A massful object has a speed that's lower,
Past the speed of light, nothing can increase.
Oh, there's no speed greater than that of light,
And we never see time run in reverse,
This one-way direction we seek to fight,
For our time on this earth is far too terse.
Oh, to know what the show is all about,
Before curiosity's light goes out.
xxix.
I met a girl who called herself Bootsy,
Back at the time she was only eight or nine,
And though she was so much younger than me,
Her pure spirit became a love of mine.
Within this crazy realm filled with people,
Lunatics and kings both will rise and fall,
Bootsy's spirit alone knows no steeple,
For she's the innocence within us all.
When the days are dreary, dark clouds hang low,
My pen lies dormant, my heart's full of lead,
To save my spirit from sinking below,
I just think back on what Bootsy once said.
She put her hand on my shoulder, said don't worry,
If anything ever was, it always will be.
xxx.
I thank you for contemplating the light,
The light of the evening's star studded dome,
For shedding on it an internal light,
An eternal light, a light of your own.
I thank you for teaching me to be free,
To be free and allow my heart to roam,
Roam to the edge of curiosity,
On curiosity's wind, free I 'm blown.
I thank you for telling me to believe,
To believe in my own intuition,
Only through it do we ever receive,
Do we ever behold our true vision.
But beyond this, and all that can be known,
Thank you for making Princeton feel like home.
xxxi.
Time is not a solid reality,
It is but a mode by which we learn to think,
It only possesses validity,
Because of the events we seek to link.
A moving clock is known to tick slower,
At the speed of light all the ticks do cease,
A massful object has a speed that's lower,
Past the speed of light, nothing can increase.
Oh, there's no speed greater than that of light,
And we never see time run in reverse,
This one-way direction we seek to fight,
For our time on this earth is far too terse.
Oh, to know what the show is all about,
Before curiosity's light goes out.
xxxii.
I see him memorizing his Latin verbs,
Treating philosophy as something dead,
Believing depth's obtained by smoking herb,
Regurgitating what the professor said.
And he believes in man's ability,
To obtain justice by the way of thought,
Believer in ivy-leauge nobility,
That he deserves what others have not got.
But he doesn't know what to do with me,
Into his law books I don't seem to fit,
My eyes he won't meet, my eyes he can't see,
There's no fact nor formula for wit.
Animal instinct he has to conform,
To what the poets before me have formed.
xxxiii.
Every second we're born into this world,
A new reality with every breath,
So what can it matter, what has unfurled,
When birth gives birth to life and death brings death to death.
But to be a piece of this mystery,
For a moment to equal the expanse,
What can it matter things we'll never see,
As long as we're lost together in this trance.
Midnight thunder fragments our dearest hopes,
The pain drives deeper than the pounding fear,
What can it matter, depression's tight ropes,
When the morning after is crystal clear.
For a second I wish you happy birthday,
But I celebrate your life everyday.
xxxiv.
So Holden called everyone a phony,
Don't you know JD's a millionaire,
Who rolled the Devil's dice to make us see,
A Catcher in the Rye when nothing's there.
No worse than you or me, talent divine,
Naive enough to believe in himself,
A naive genius that did define,
A brave new world not yet found on the shelf.
Now it's on the shelf, the world beats forward,
And Salinger is running from Holden,
Holden's grown horns and a tail, reaching toward,
The empty air within all rings golden.
Catcher in the Rye's half a tragedy,
JD Salinger's the greatest phony.
xxxv.
Beauty's in the beholder's eye,
And don't you know that ugliness is too?
You know the liar does become his lie,
The hater hates himself, not what he views.
Perceived imperfections are the beholder's,
He'll be rid of them when he rids himself,
Of hate's burden, borne upon his shoulder,
When he can alone, within himself, dwelve.
When the tyrant can see life within a leaf,
When the engineer sees progress in grass,
When poets write poems of silent belief,
After this strange interlude has passed.
The infinite wonder we live without,
Sacrificed for trifles we sing and shout.
xxxvi.
It gets in your veins, each girl that you know,
And there's nothing you can do to forget,
You reach out for them as you sink below,
But holes don't float, and you're further in debt.
You're wishing you could again know romance,
But the visions in your mind, they won't leave,
Cause you know where you go after the dance,
In heaven without hell you can't believe.
We call it the fall, because it's the end,
Of poetry and the freedom of God,
Beauty, evil and innocence all blend,
A truth can not be found that is not flawed.
But for a moment her face reminded me,
Of that which I would never again be.
xxxvii.
If it weren't for your bawds, strumpet themes,
Your undressing of art, baring of flesh,
Catching the pervert's eye with naked dreams,
Then you would own but invisible breath.
An idea of an idea you have not,
I guess you've got to play with what you've got,
But you shouldn't have killed my father's thought,
'Cause only doom through criticism's bought.
For the children own the truth, they will know,
The great men from the political fools,
Loyal to the truth they shall overthrow,
Pedant tyrants who have taken root in schools.
You can deny everything but the truth,
Youth wants truth, time is on the side of youth.
xxxviii.
I 'm a graduate of the field and street,
My headmaster's my yearning, breaking heart,
The subjects are everybody I meet,
It's all just life to me, I know no art.
The first soft touch of spring is in the air,
You know all the girls are jogging in shorts,
My heart jumps with every one, looking fair,
But there's one so fine, she's a different sort.
Threw her tennis ball back over the fence,
She smiled a thank you, and it was enough,
To catch a fleeting glimpse in this dark, dense,
Forest that surrounds our Golden dream's fluff.
Tonight's pink and purple dusk she's haunting,
Things we'll never touch we're always wanting.
xxxix.
Did you ever go running in spring rain?
Was it at night, under lonely street lights?
Did you feel that it wasn't all in vane?
If you let it be, it would be all right.
You loved her enough-- it didn't matter,
If she loved you back, if she loved your song,
Did you feel your heart could never shatter?
In death did you find the infinitely strong?
You ran to her room that night, brought her out,
Into the rain, you knew she'd never see,
It was OK-- that's not what it's about,
Sight is the reason I 'll never be free.
The vital sight wanes as youth's end draws near,
I live more in hope, and less upon fear.
xl.
And the good men, they shall all be faithful,
To the good women, who shall honor them,
The good children, they shall all be grateful,
Morality will be a precious gem.
And the dishonest men shall be deposed,
The vile, vicious women shall all be shunned,
The truth shall prevail over what was posed,
And the golden day will again be won.
But for a moment, 'til a madman grasps,
The prophet's words in pursuit of power,
By blind leadership, yesterday's words lapse
in meaning,-- death rules man's darkest hour.
Chaos to order to chaos again,
From tree to paper, back to tree again.
xli.
My only knowledge is I know nothing
Intrinsic beyond the rules of this game,
of evolution and sordid breeding,
Which has of late cast me into this shame.
That I yet crawl upon this earth and breathe,
While a far superior mind's below,
Within the flowers I can see but death,
Since good Pierre retired to after the show.
The last friend of true conviction now gone,
Lies squandered while the living poets lie,
The thousand-thousand slimy things live on,
And the mirror tells me that so do I.
To find solace, I must go, be alone,
A man's a saint but when he's on his own.
xlii.
Technology took us to the dark ages,
Beasts scream on radio waves, blood on the screen,
And we've forgotten how to turn pages,
Reacting to the superficial sheen.
Oh, long ago, the true poets did reign,
Culture was founded upon words and thoughts,
With no honor, the states have gone insane,
Presidents playing to the common lots,
With their musical-video campaigns,
Oh, I 'm losing my mind in the music,
Only Shakespeare's words can make me feel sane,
He's been banned and replaced by baseless flicks.
Rising out of this bestial oblivion,
Religion, blown upon revolution.
xliii.
What should it matter to me, this short life?
Whose conception nor end I did not choose,
Because my hands are tied, why should I feel strife?
I lost long ago all I had to lose.
Let life go to those who feel direction,
To the wind, to the trees, to the green grass,
They're empty under my mind's inspection,
But belief in God makes them the Gods, alas!
My consciousness is a most useless thing,
Without a purpose in which to believe,
I wish I felt to try, to try to sing,
But I don't know a song which doesn't deceive.
My mind is turning itself inside-out,
To be is not to be-- all truth is doubt.
xliv.
Oh, I know the sun will come up again,
As it did, so short a time ago,
I have faith, though I can't tell how or when,
I 'll know enough to make the South wind blow.
But what a feeling, to follow your dream,
To follow the wild call of the frontier,
A frontier within you, internal theme,
To believe, to believe that you're a seer.
But oh, the dark clouds look like they won't break,
And I miss her, and all I left behind,
So many have gone insane for art's sake,
All alone sometimes meaning's tough to find.
I must face the demon within alone,
Though it kills me, the truth, it must be known.
xlv.
The foundations of a pedant's power,
But the remnants of yesterday's fashion,
She played unfair to rise to her tower,
Forever tainted for my father's bashing.
True power lies with the vitality,
The vitality in Princeton's youth's truth,
Where there lives love, there lies reality,
A young thought needs but to be young for proof.
Now I see! We'll start a society,
To honor all those who are today the young,
For come tomorrow we will not be free,
Enslaved by the music we once sung.
The rarer action's in virtue than vice,
To forgive that which is but quantum dice.
xlvi.
So beautifully strange to see her again,
She'd told me she'd forgotten how I looked,
I 'd forgotten her mysterious blend,
Deep eyes and quick smile on which I am hooked.
There's an air about her vitality,
Natural as waves rolling on the sea,
In her I can feel a reality,
In her I found a brand new piece of me.
It seems a rare thing, to come across her,
Cause you know I 've never done it before,
Somebody who's real, somebody who's there,
Oh, but there's yet a long voyage to shore.
Never thought a girl would be true,
Never knew there was you, now I do.
xlvii.
Paradox of action in entropy,
Where to act is to be, to die, to not be,
The paradox is that we want to be,
While nature's first want is for entropy.
Order relies on other's disorder,
The laws we make are but laws that made us,
Leaders need the people's source for power,
The few are polished, the majority rusts.
Phenomena: men with insight write rules,
Men of instinct interpret them to survive,
Along with the good rise the evil fools,
Who know to break the rules to stay alive.
Rock'n roll's iron grip shall soon relent,
A new rebellion shall man's anger vent.
xlviii.
Without you Milt, I wouldn't have made it,
For the forces were all beating me down,
Talentless, hopeless, with nowhere to fit,
I could have never seen myself on my own.
But late one night you called me to your home,
The wind-blown spring showers soaking me wet,
You lead me to a chair, read me a poem,
That did mix with my mind and now has set,
Showed me how to hold infinity in my palm.
Oh, to see the world, in a grain of sand,
Feel infinity in phantasmal dust,
Oh, to hold eternity in your hand.
Take paradox to heart; it's all you've got,
Youth and eternity are both for naught.
xlix.
Night froze what the afternoon sun melted,
My black shoes crunched the ice, scarf 'round my mouth,
Walked to her room, the north wind belted
me-- the wind that had blown all the starlings south.
Roses in my hand, I knocked on her door,
She answered the door, putting an earing in,
Black dress over which yellow hair did pour,
Head tilted a bit, a beautiful grin.
We walked to the dance, about her my arm,
I couldn't help turning to her profile,
She turned upon me brown eyes filled with charm,
But I knew to wait to kiss her fine smile.
The band packed up, left us there on the floor,
'Twas the first last dance of ten thousand more.
l.
You once saw something in me girl-- it's gone,
There was music, a sense, in the words I'd say,
But that was long ago, and we've moved on,
To killing each-other everyday.
Almost forgot I've been through this before,
There's a truth I value above people,
It's the power behind all of my lore,
I worship alone in this abstract steeple.
The contradictions you will never see,
Though you sometimes feel the insanity,
But because I can laugh at tradgedy,
You know you don't really matter to me.
Beauty's in the beholder's eye-- it's strange,
That I am different because you have changed.
li.
But she believes in me, and what I write,
And that is enough, you know it's all right,
To know that I 'll be holding her some night,
Her face streaked by the damp breath of a blue moon's-light.
Cause just when I thought I 'd nowhere to go,
She laughed at me, and said I was wrong,
She felt there was some melody I know,
That could be found nowhere in the world's song.
That smile on her face, quiet confidence,
She made me believe that there is a pure,
When with her, all my senses can relent,
Walking beside her is where I am sure.
And I really hope that it works this time,
'Cause I am running out of words that rhyme.
lii.
Oh, I see now, it's a capricious game,
Where smiles can be traded for an ideal,
Conformity for creativity's flame,
Superficial phrases for what you feel.
English is the study of brown-nosing,
And so is law, and philosophy,
Even science, in all its grand posing,
Is for the selfish sake of progeny.
If I 'm a cynic, then cynics are true,
And cynics know this vile game's but good sport,
A sport in which there are no rules in view,
This is the truth that power must distort.
As it's not their fault they wear medallions,
It's not my fault I wear rebellion.
liii.
With her I disagree, so she hates me,
I won't conform to her creativity,
The sacrifice for others is easy,
To lose they've got no originality.
So them her aging mind can comprehend,
As it fits the molds of setting concrete,
Creativity's not down this dead end!
Yet they'll be the Princeton Poet's elite!
She smiles upon her dead, wicked children,
While a Cinderalla waits for her prince,
Waiting's the burden of the maverick pen,
And out-lasting me shall be what I print.
Oh, we live in a funny society,
When the poet lies, only then they see.
liv.
Before darkness descends, there's a moment,
The western sky takes on a deep purple hue,
I take one look, my breath from me is sent,
Up to join the early stars so few.
I know I 'm man enough to walk alone,
I could count myself king of infinite space,
If it weren't for these feelings that have grown,
These dreams that turned to nightmares of her face.
For my love itself was chaste yesterday,
Now I cannot wash the blood from my hands,
Together with her, the beast we did flay,
The bones are covered by time's shifting sands.
Then darkness descends, the moment is lost,
There's ice on her eye-lashes, from the frost.
lv.
I can't remember the trees changing,
And the daffodils have all disappeared,
Leaving but green stems rapidly fading,
With each year I say, "It's the quickest year."
The golf course has become a brilliant green.
Her skin is bronzed, her hair is golden yellow,
I squint into the ocean's sparkling sheen,
And see even its vastness is shallow.
The definition's returning to me,
With each day's effort shouldering this load,
Accustomed to the dark, my eyes can see,
It won't be long until I explode.
These words are the eternal piece of me,
My fight against ephemerality.
lvi.
A society of litigation,
An exchange of words equal to a car,
We borrow from the future; create inflation,
With our atom bomb they are who they are.
Now they don't talk so loud, nor seem so proud,
You know any engineer can build bombs,
And the little people speak just as loud,
With the power to send you to your tomb.
So what do you say? What is true justice?
How is it that Harvard and Yale know best?
Why must we have a degree to practice?
That for which Socrates showed there's no test?
Though there's no base, we must still feel to try,
As you fabricate, let the poet lie.
lvii.
I walked Led Zepplin's stairway to Heaven,
Checked in at the Hotel California,
Shared a suite with vacationing Satan,
Who had come to talk to God about law.
The duality is the guiding force,
Without which we'd be lacking direction,
Without Satan's temptation to coerce,
There wouldn't be any evolution.
For between this rise and fall there comes all,
All of men's struggles are driven by sin,
Nobility too, is but the wild's call,
Through envy he triumphs, by greed he wins.
Even the rock'n roll prophets of peace,
Their vocal beauty's but gives them a piece.
lviii.
She took my hand, led me into the woods,
An April evening, speckled with bright green,
Walked up, over a hill, and there it stood,
Resting tree-house, upon four trees did lean.
She ran ahead, was first up the ladder,
Laughing, and claiming it to be her throne,
Ah! Thinking back only makes me sadder,
Moment of innocence forever gone.
I joined her, up upon the wood platform,
I could see ninety-three million miles,
To the red sun,-- a chill replaced the warm,
I kissed her on her head, and saw her smile.
"Let's make this our secret place," she squeezed my hand,
She kissed me; from the tree house I was banned.
lix.
I sing for myself, I let the time pass,
Through my fingers, cause I don't have to care,
I 've seen myself in man's looking glass,
The only place for me to fit is nowhere.
'Cause the things you call progress, I can't see
Them making the good earth a better place,
No, your fashions seem but arbitrary,
Your trophies the sterile ends of the race.
Why should I try to find reasons to die,
For ten thousand young men and their enemies,
It's enough to just look at the blue sky,
Reflected all around in the wide open seas.
Man but knows himself through other men,
Your existence lends reason to my pen.
lx.
So you pump yourself full of heroin,
Mr. Brownstone makes you scream on the stage,
Running on empty, you must keep going,
Giving the public spectacular rage.
You've got a contract on the MTV,
Everybody everywhere knows your name,
Your precious anger is lost in fames' sea,
Where can you go now that you've won the game?
Now that you're the system, what's rebellion?
To wear long hair for your record cover?
As youth recedes, you hold on to bullion,
But the days that it was yours are over.
When you hit the rock-bottom of culture,
A bloody, ordered war is in the near future.
lxi.
Their fancy, flimsy games of words are nice,
And grow for the moment, a fresh April green,
But in time's cold wind they shall turn to ice,
Come tomorrow, no longer will be seen.
But the classics shall endure time's swinging scythe,
The works that include the fundamental,
Reflecting uniqueness of a man's life,
Existence in the realm of the mental.
For ideas are all, and all is an idea,
Words without ideas are void of meaning,
And ideas without feeling can not see,
Hand in hand, they make all of our dreaming.
But to tell me that my words think too much,
Only shows that you've never felt as such.
lxii.
Girl, you know I don't want to fall with you,
Want to be young forever, by your side,
To just sit, and share the autumn day's view,
Oh, why is innocence always defied?
Cause we kissed one night-- then we went too far,
Holding hands was never again enough,
Every little thing hurts, makes you seem far,
Babe, loving you has been getting too tough.
I don't know how much more I can take it,
I want it all, and I know it's too much,
But that's love, and you know I can't fake it,
When I get this way, I 've got to have your touch.
But girl, hold me back, and keep me away,
'Cause I 'm looking to love in a new way.
lxiii.
Oh, if it is not for truth, then it's not,
Education. It is but a whore's game,
Where the highest bidder wins the harlot,
Sophists teach Socrates tinted with shame.
What use has a true man for this base hoax?
Where our smiles and words hide our true intents,
Making wise men bawds, the honest men jokes,
With humbleness and modesty for rent.
They have the bold nerve to philosophize,
And then grade me on what can not be known,
Oh! Remember Socrates, he was wise,
For his honesty he was overthrown.
Honesty is a most dangerous thought,
Among shrewd fools who don't own what they've got.
lxiv.
If you look in it you will soon grow blind,
If you listen too close, you'll become deaf,
If you seek too long, yourself you won't find,
If you describe me, you will lose your breath.
To stand behind your own art you never dared.
I 'm warning you, do not offer critique,
Oh, think twice friend, you really should be scared,
You know your words will only make you weak.
But maybe you're brave, maybe you're not scared,
Maybe you've seen the void and that's why you dared.
Maybe like me you see that it's no loss,
To murder an innocent albatross.
The wedding guest, he stoppeth one of three,
Without his sin, he would not know poetry.
lxv.
Walking in the rain, no one understood,
What it meant sometimes to see but nothing,
You can run, you can hide, it does no good,
You feel like crying, but they're all laughing.
You find a friend in the midst of nowhere,
Someone who can understand what you see,
You think back to the rainy night you shared,
You know deep down that it'll always be.
The times are still tough, the seas are still rough,
But you have learned that you are not alone,
And though it's no more, it still is enough,
Cause the memory will always be known.
When November rain soaks me to the skin,
It warms me knowing out there sleeps my kin.
lxvi.
My heart starts breaking, I can't help waking,
A million miles before the dawn,
This world's quaking, I feel it forsaking
Me from you-- I woke up, knew you were gone.
Cause we haven't been seeing eye to eye,
Cause your world, it never needed my mind,
I agree, it's better my mind should die,
Cause thinking only ever made me blind.
And oh girl, I wish I could be you,
But I 'm cursed with the fate of being true,
I 'd be better off with a narrow view,
When you see it all, there's nothing to do.
I 'm sorry I had to push you away,
There were things you wouldn't let me say.
lxvii.
So they want a theory of everything,
Well they're looking in all the wrong places,
To quarks and baryons, the wrong big bang,
While our origin lies in girl's faces.
You know that it's the ultimate beauty,
Therefore too, it is the ultimate sin,
So we pretend that it we do not see,
Our parents don't tell us where they've been.
Look at the culture that rises in between!
Our original sin, and then our last,
Fickle, capricious, blowin' in the wind,
A future as meaningless as the past.
But you're a believer, I 'll let you go,
There's nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so.
lxviii.
So you're cashing in on Einstein's theory,
Building better bombs, working out details,
Mining in the fashionable quarry,
You are but walking down existing trails.
You talk of God like you played golf with him,
You speak of forces no one can see,
And in the face of all seeming whim,
You voice purpose, that we were meant to be.
Oh, but this voice is from a physicist,
Who says he's interested in knowledge,
But to tell us all he can not resist,
Self-promotion's what is taught in college.
The truth is fine, if you can let it be,
Danger's in forcing everyone to see.
lxix.
All these inconsequential small battles,
We fight every day with parents and friends,
Petty gossip, insignificant prattle,
None of it changes our ultimate end.
Yet we find reasons to form groups and cliques,
Fraternitize with some, exclude others,
We have our churches, synagogues, and Greeks,
Some we deem as sisters, other's brothers.
Indoctrination, we grow numb to it,
The children hesitate at the border,
Some die resisting, others succumb to it,
Some blaze the way for a brand new order.
Littler fleas upon the little fleas,
Their mass adds up and war is made of these.
lxx.
To be or not to be is not our choice,
The question's a beautiful illusion,
Lending significance to our void voice,
Feelings give potency to our disillusion.
For there were times I was so full of love,
Feelings cast on the world a rosey hue,
But all must fall who try to fly above,
There were days when pain was the only view.
But now I feel neither the highs nor lows,
My feelings become thoughts, and thoughts wisdom,
I 've learned that all feelings so soon do go,
Why die for an ephemeral kingdom?
There's the pointless point, death comes regardless,
Towards death and inception we stand choiceless.
lxxi.
You told me you didn't get my message,
Well I 've been taken for a fool before,
By other fools who think that they are sage,
Who think that I am naive to their lore.
But I have no patience for pretty lies,
Though they come with pretty hair and a smile,
You know the deeper you look in my eyes,
Only makes you more guilty in this trial.
No, I have had enough of your flauntings,
Pretended innocence, I know what you want,
Go find another to do your haunting,
Make sure he's a fool; the wise you'll but daunt.
So you thought you had me, surprise, surprise,
I don't feel like listening to your lies.
lxxii.
I know it's tough kid, it's tough out alone,
When the frat parties are all too empty,
You feel things that by no one else is known,
It's tough having to swallow what you see.
Cause a piece of you dies, when no one's there,
You become numb to music of the night,
No mystery's left in her auburn hair,
Without a foot-hold, without any light,
Without a dream or vision, without sight,
Perceptiveness is a long, lonely plight,
Paranoid nightmares, full of untouched fright,
You know everyone's out to get you tonight.
They're there, friend, I can see their faces too,
They can't understand, and they're coming for you.
lxxiii.
I went by to put a note on your car,
But you and your blue car, they weren't there,
Our actions are louder than our words are,
It hurt inside to hear you didn't care.
I didn't think that your brown eyes could lie,
I guess I was naive, now I know better,
You are free now, girl, you are free to fly,
Your private life I don't want to fetter.
You know I 'll miss the girl I used to kiss,
In the country house we shared for one night,
Her last arrow was untrue, and it missed,
Me. I know who you are, I 've seen the light.
Dejected, I rode my bike slowly on home,
Stopped on the bridge, gave the river the poem.
lxxiv.
Oh, the tower of Babel Princeton is,
Diversity in breeding and language,
Was supposed to bring us closer to bliss,
We would touch heaven, men would become sage.
But for the poor children it's not working,
Girls grow old lonely, romantics are shunned,
Everywhere there's grim confusion lurking,
Factions arise were people are forced to blend.
And who is steering at the crazy helm?
Is it me or you? Is it everyone?
Steering ourselves into Chaos's realm,
Into this deep night with no hope of dawn.
What scares me most is men with answers,
Who rise from chaos, make us say their prayers.
lxxv.
Chemical reactions with direction,
In a world of increasing entropy,
Ingrained are instincts to build erections,
Which need increasing entropy to be.
We feed upon this entropy increase,
As we put order into our systems,
But entropy's increase can never cease,
It grows with every action and wisdom.
So the writer with his words can not win,
Nor the physicist with his equations,
The composers are all decomposin',
Order but quickens the annihilation.
There's nothing wrong, tragedy's not a flaw,
It's the nature of paradox's law.
lxxvi.
Can I capture tragedy in a poem?
Or is it too grand a movement for this?
A writer struggles to become well known,
Inspired by the beauties he wants to kiss.
At first rejection, he drinks, tries harder,
Drunk, he forgets, his mind is young again,
Not afraid to go over the border,
The inspiration flows out through his pen.
He exists, in struggle being's defined,
Finished masterpiece earns him a king's throne,
She blossoms for him, he will never find
drive again, purpose fulfilled, fully grown.
They say this fall, this sin, leads to tragedy,
Yet too, it leads to everything that be.
lxxvii.
You tried your darndest to make me profane,
To make me speak the words you understand,
Killed the greats, tempted me, prayed for my pain,
You conspired, tried to have me from life banned.
It's a business based on liberal luck,
They deconstructed all truths except money,
So tempt the masses and make one more buck,
Commit the crime and skip the time, honey.
Words were corrupted by flesh's beauty,
It's art to slash women upon the screen,
Now look who's running the university,
Nude emperors of superficial sheen.
Here's the news, saint PC executive,
What lies shall die, sick witch, what rhymes shall live.
lxxviii.
Should anyone take pride in anything?
When all is founded upon but fortune?
Those in power make us feel shame's sharp sting,
While them, to their own rules they are immune.
Oh, it is but for power to feel pride,
Words have no meaning but for power's use,
In love and lust all words are first applied,
Young believe in them, as do the obtuse.
Words at their conception are innocent,
For they have not yet had a chance to fall,
They'll be there when the feeling will have went,
Behind a dead pretense of words lives all.
Time persists, actions prove words untrue,
Poets in love redefine them anew.
lxxix.
Oh, so soft and vivid is tonight's dusk!
Oh! Forever these purple clouds shall hang,
As shall the magnolia blossom's musk,
And the good night the mourning doves just sang.
Now I feel that these actors were fated,
By biological scripts, by quantum's
Fortune-- significance of free will's abated.
To useless logic I 'm comfortably numb.
All spoken words, actions, where are they now?
Where's goes sculpture's sculpting? Writer's writing?
Out of past actions we sculptures did grow,
Now adult, we fade in the benighting.
But all action's recorded in evolution,
As offspring are closer to perfection.
lxxx.
The paradox of man's phenomena,
Premise: All men were created equal,
We are but men and can not reach God's Law,
On this earth we should walk about humble.
But then, if we're but men, we cannot know,
What is right, what is wrong, for God's the judge,
Only he can choose whom to send below,
We must forgive those who sin and begrudge.
So we lie, cheat, steel, we're but men,
It's a sin to pass judgement on ourselves,
Prophets, saviours, nailed to the trees again,
You could be next, so look out for yourself.
Perhaps you'll be nailing them to the cross,
Without a soul it will never be lost.
lxxxi.
What good can be infinite reasoning?
When no man can escape his simple heart?
How can man improve with book's seasoning?
When with intrinsic love he cannot part?
I 've become enlightened to Paradox,
Professors who are more equal than me,
Hiding in their offices, I pick their locks,
They won't acknowledge emptiness I see.
An emptiness which pervades their proud realm,
To be great's to find quarrel in a straw,
Down their tunnel vision they steer the helm,
Ignorance breeds certainty in the law.
A little learning's a dangerous thing,
An amplified wrath of the heart it brings.
lxxxii.
Her voice was a wild tonic in the rain,
Wet eyelashes, streak of hair on her cheek,
We looked out over the fields of grain,
Once her face came a bit close, I grew weak.
A warm summer sprinkle, Tory and me,
Oh, but I can't tell you the way she smiled,
There is too much that I can't make you see,
Nature's true beauty by words is defiled.
Last time I saw her was four years ago,
I happened upon her picture today,
Life of that rainy day through me did flow,
But it's gone, gone no matter what I say.
My feelings do drown, but with words I strive,
To reach the past and keep myself alive.
lxxxiii.
Oh, babe, I held you when you were crying,
Time apart changed us beyond recognition,
I 'm flying free, but there's no denying,
Pictures of you in my mind's vision.
We awoke to a winter wonderland,
Last January, when you pulled up the shade,
White wet snow on black trees, you grabbed my hand,
It's a cold memory when feelings fade.
I pause, look within, honestly wonder,
Is all love fated fated to fade before we?
But puddle's remain from the night's thunder,
Is it my nature to want to be free?
Thought it was forever, so many times,
Against my mind, all thoughts in love are crimes.
lxxxiv.
I look around, see, mediocrity,
Mediocrity in power must lie,
Propaganda to make the people see,
That kings are rightfully the ones on high.
Today's good music is but naked lust,
Meterless, rhymeless, meaningless verse,
No wonder the children's senses do rust,
'Neath the more equal pig's in power's curse.
Away from my college you non-poets!
Who with bass language rape the mass's minds,
I avenge my father, I can't forget,
How he was a victim of the learned blind.
Oh! Culture dies and the great poet lies,
'Neath the earth, while the cursed witches do rise.
lxxxv.
I 've grown not to take death personally,
When she loses faith or her feelings fade,
As it comes to all, it must come to me,
I would never have met you had she stayed.
By fading fall I don't feel rejected,
By yesterday I don't feel forgotten,
By time's precious flow I am protected,
From past's decay which makes the heart rotten.
My ultimate death, I do not fear it,
As I did not fear these word's conception,
I know not music if I can't hear it,
I can not fear a brave new inception.
Yet I cling to this world, for I would miss,
That one brown-eyed girl's January Kiss.
lxxxvi.
The beasts who fair best, what is their secret?
Are they the strongest and the most honest?
Or is their strength but overdue debt?
Do they win because they fix the contest?
Should we define strong by that which survives?
Is rape strong because it passes one's genes?
Are the strong the ones who sacrifice lives?
So as to make for a world they deem clean?
Is the lying man the prevailing truth?
Are the empty men the ones who control?
Are the blind men the ones who need no proof?
Do spiritual men live without a soul?
Shallow men are the one's who can see deep,
The elite who don't want the child's life to keep.
lxxxvii.
With the midnight train I became aware,
This ocean of time slipping through my hands,
So much is blank that in my mind was there,
Though I 'm blind now, I know colors were grand.
Another Christmas break in Ohio,
The tree's out front, my mind is turned ahead,
Thoughts of her come, but feelings I don't know,
Yesterday, something more I could have said.
Who can recall magic youth's lost contexts,
where we were certain love was forever?
Now you fall in love knowing there' a next,
Love, from true meaning of love is severed.
Though far away, I still like you Bootsy,
Maybe love's letting the other be free.
lxxxviii.
Freedom means nothing without your freedom,
Democracy's nothing without your say,
If they don't listen, then you don't need them,
Let be that each human soul sees the day--
Freedom to dance upon a spring meadow,
To turn 'gainst the grain and find one's own way,
Free to find the truth, youth's freedom to show,
The world a new order-- pave a new way.
In this freedom rises the tragic men,
Borne upon a glimpse of glory in youth,
In freedom they're free to control again,
Free to state their view as absolute truth.
My friends, save this good man from tragedy,
For he's lost the unseen flower's beauty.
lxxxix.
Men of power walk on by the unseen flower,
All beauty is in the beholder's eye,
Those who can see none lack beauty's dower,
The cold steel men blind to wondering why.
Without soul, they can see none in others,
Spend their lives seeking external order,
A pure world, void of diverse brothers,
Borne in this world of stratified border.
And when he's done weeding out the impure,
Is that when the happiness shall begin?
When we deem certain humans as manure,
And kill them, will we put an end to sin?
The rocks are perfect, and so is the sea,
The more that man strives, the less he can be.
xc.
Beware of the professor, the scholar,
The philosopher and the physicist,
Economists who study the dollar,
Beware when these men begin to insist.
For the true philosopher knows nothing,
The true physicist knows only wonder,
It's the weak who grow certain of something,
Moral certitude leads us to blunder.
For we are but an airy nothingness,
Men of rules are blind to reality,
They are liars, those who do not confess,
There's more in heaven and earth than they see.
These men of small dreams, pedagogues on stilts,
They destroy life and have cold order built.
xci.
I look and I see, my enemy's me,
My proud ambitions drive me to obtain,
A thousand thousand things my eyes see,
To win in this competition insane,
Over other beings, over their souls,
Locked in this survival of the fittest,
Where survival is the true judge of goals,
Where the dishonest men too past the tests.
Oh! What is honesty when you have truth?
On your side. It is so easy to win,
But at what? You're forever nature's proof,
Life's impossible without the first sin.
Every man's enemy is within him,
Intrinsic driving force of selfish whim.
xcii.
When I feel I am holding forever,
Those are the moments when poems are written,
A mysterious wave transcends clever,
Other moments by envy are smitten,
There are no markers, my course is unplanned,
It's just me sailing on the open sea,
I leave all my obstacles behind on land,
Though I sail, my destination finds me.
I must ramble when I hear the calling;
The calling of a vivid memory,
I know off of time's edge I am falling,
As my ship sails on to eternity.
But for the moment I 'm safe on the shore,
Anchored to the girl who I write this for.
xciii.
But the empty witch does not feel enough,
Nor see enough in the romantic realm,
So she fills pages with sexual fluff,
And the poor children are overwhelmed,
By MTV, all today's art must tempt,
Music sells by its sexual appeal,
Oh, from this force I know I 'm not exempt,
But there is something more to love I feel.
For when primitive animals learn words,
Words form meaningless thought without a soul,
They praise a Lord, then quickly grab a sword,
Quote a dead poet, bodies fill a hole.
Knowledge follows the naked temptation,
In war we clothe all of our frustrations.
xciv.
Oh, my girlfriends have all forgotten me,
See, they are content with their new boyfriends,
Good, loyal men of diligence, duty,
Have replaced my extreme chaotic blend.
I have learned love has no place in logic,
That it is an argument of passion,
Fickle passions failing me, but the tragic,
Reflected in man's ephemeral fashion.
Oh but yet there are still glints in their eyes,
Of these ideals too relative for me,
At my tender age I have grown wise,
And my wisdom has set my feeling free.
Look at them, so beautifully innocent,
Next to youth's love, Wisdom is ignorant.
xcv.
Now my friend Derek, to bury my charms,
For all my poems were but a magic wand,
As much good there's in words, so too there's harm,
I used mine for that of which I was fond.
To win a girl's heart, to make her believe,
In the hypnotic magic of a poem,
From mere words on paper, one does receive,
A focused feeling that before did roam.
But alas, my words have become jaded,
And worn by the use of several minds,
The meaning and the feeling have faded,
The dried-out words whisked away by the youth's winds.
And fly free, fly free away from control,
I break my wand, and I regain my soul.
xcvi.
I suppose it's magic that makes you say,
The things that defy all learning and thought,
When I kissed your cheek, you turned, said hey, hey,
Was that because your girlfriend here is not.
I could only smile, for that was so far,
So far from the feelings I had inside,
She's in the past, headed out for the stars,
You I kissed, the girl walking by my side.
You held your own hand, and said you were cold,
You weren't ready to return my kiss,
To not feel bad I 'll never be that old,
I just met you, but it's you who I miss.
I 've befriended time, for I know he takes,
Two separate paths and from them one he makes.
xcvii.
Oh babe, it's late, but I can't fall asleep,
Cause you're out somewhere, and I need your touch,
On the edge of frantic, thoughts of you keep
Me. Never been possessed by a girl this much.
The books in my room are all meaningless,
The stars are cold tonight, void of feeling,
To myself I guess it's time to confess,
I 'm losing you-- you left me here kneeling.
It's a tidal wave of void and vacuum,
Smothering me like a blanket of snow,
It's beyond heart ache, emptier than gloom,
Knocked me on my back, your absences blow.
If you call me, I 'm afraid I can't comply,
'Cause it hurt so bad I've got to let it die.
xcviii.
So long I dreamed of her, and her alone,
Never would I be able to touch her,
But fate's different idea blind time has shown,
The nights in her arms pass by in a blurr.
And now that she likes me she's not so great,
Every day she falls shorter of my dreams,
There's a vile part of me no girl can sate.
For a girl brings death to my wildest schemes,
Oh yes, I kissed Daisy, and there I found,
That no longer did my mind romp like God's,
As she blossomed for me, my soul did sound,
I can see no beauty that isn't flawed.
Showed me heaven, then made a beast of me,
Childhood dreams are love's exorbitant fee.
xcix.
Long, skinny shadows on the browned golf course,
Winter brown that pervades the earth and sky,
Of my saddened pangs, Amy was the source,
I liked her, but she could never know why.
No girl I ever knew could understand,
The intrinsic, sickly horror of love,
From that realm of consciousness they are banned,
So evil are the innocent above.
Evil because they're blind, blind because they're
Innocent. Innocent as the ocean,
Rolling with no concept of why or where,
An ocean where many good men did drown.
Amy my angel, save me from myself,
Hate me, scorn me, leave me upon the shelf.
c.
That isn't music in those archways,
They're not performing from within their souls,
Repeating words which meant something yesterday,
Musical beaureaucrats, political goals.
This campus isn't at all for what I hoped,
Just a tradition everyone wants to touch,
Connections for future deals to be roped,
About thinking nobody cares too much.
And yet, what gets me is the righteous pride,
That people have come to Princeton to buy,
For the honest man stands defied,
When the pretentious philosophize why.
It makes a man mad, their high arrogance,
Bred upon the pedant's phony pretense.

Ahoy! Drop Drake a line!


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