Where Night is Not Black

The fields laid out by God rest in the evening,
Ripples in them, like water disturbed and frozen,
The soft crystal like water drops so alluring,
A sparrow, memories bygone, sitting like rosin,
Stuck to a branch a top a silent hill

And as the lights dim,
Eyes like a pearl,
Now the night begin,
The arms of a girl.

And now I take hold,
Pulling you into my place,
Little bit too bold,
Touching my lips to your face.

I will pray to you God,
Smite my enemy down with your hands of vengeance,
Tear up my foe with passion like a consuming flame melting the flesh,
I will pray to you God,
Stake the person who I hate, let there body rot in the sun,
Have the jackals rip the flesh from bone in the night, screams rising up,
I will pray to you God,
Let my laughter at the sight of suffering rise,
Ignite in my heart the inexplicable joy at seeing the pain of your enemy,
I will pray to you God,
Set the night alive with sound of voices in torment,
Let the gnashing of teeth and the people’s pleas for help harden my heart,
God Damn You!

Thank you God.

One morning I woke up and you were here,
In my bed of endless papers and study,
You reached out a hand and said “Good morning dear”
I reached out and you smiled in mischievous glee
Now your gone and I’m back in this bed

Every morning I wake up and look with staining eyes,
Could this be the day I see you again
But every morning my bed is silent, sighs
But I hope, in this bed of endless papers
Someday you will return

Dearest, I wish you were here,
Beneath the spruce tree,
In the field, all alone,
I’m pining after you
Wish you were
here with
me

Dearest, I wish you were here
Under the draping willow tree,
Next to the running brook
In the calm forest
Wish you were
here with
me

Dearest, I wish you were here
Beneath the shade of Cedar
Walking together to love,
On the road to victory,
Wish you were
here with
me

I miss you, every morning I awake,
Like a sick child, trouble breathing through my nose,
Blowing my nose a tissue I take,
And I look up into the mirror, my misery shows,
I look like a lost child, eyes red, not from drink
Not from crying, even though I feel like I did
My arms feel weak without your link,
A few drops of warmth down my cheeks slid,
My chest open, shirtless, naked but it doesn’t matter,
You aren’t here to see, only I am,
Alone I might as well swing and the mirror shatter,
All of this supposed work is a sham,

Yet I dream and one day I’ll see again,
Your shadow coming around the corner,
Yellow dress, pure without on stain,
And that day no more a mourner,
And I’ll hold you close,
And walk down the rose,

Trees fall in the storm of perfected rage,
Timber turns red and ignites.

So long I have been asleep in the great abyss of memories
Like a child trapped in a mine shaft
Miraculous that still flows out of lungs,
Underwater trapped beneath an ironic life raft
This whole episode is like a reality show without reality
Its a pretence, laundering like the greatest gangster,
Jame Joyce’s memories like a thousand snakes tangled
As piano cords shake the earth,
Ten thousand warriors marching through the square,
A hundred thousand children holding hands,
In six seconds, seven million bullets fly,
Twenty thousand eyes glaze over,
One hundred thousand fingers turn white,
And the cries of a seven billion strong let out a terrifying yell,

But no, not one of those seven billion cry,
The rest is true, and all the world watches like Roman senators at the games,
Hoping and waiting…
And I go insane,
And march to the city by the polluted river,
Across the bridge, past temples to fallen leaders,
Past the ironic monument to the sterile father,
Ironic doesn’t say it enough,
Sterile this nation shall be,
Washing away the blood with fresh blood is all that is left,
The water has gone bad, the chemicals only burn deeper gashes

Bullets fly, a thousand hundred men die,
Let the blood flow, red, paint the streets with it,
Turn the banners white to red, like in the great motherland,
With a thousand hands wash away the sins,
With another thousand hands pull the cord to release

Its not that the world doesn’t work,
Its not that there aren’t people who are worse off somewhere else
Its not that there have been people oppressed more than us,
Its that its become justified, rationalized, institutionalized.

Before I breath in, duty is my first call
Before my belly is full, duty is my call
Before lips are moistened from the dessert dry, duty is my call
Duty to God, duty to my values, duty to my family, duty to my best friend
Duty is my call.
Duty is unwavering, unquestioning, rational but passionate.
Duty is what makes the ordinary extraordinary.
Duty is my call.
Duty answers “Who will?” with the words “Me!”
Duty is strong in spite of pain.
Duty is my call.
And duty is rewarded.
If not in this life then the next.

Let me paint you a picture,                  But please don’t show anyone else,
It starts with you and me alone         Sitting together on a bench somewhere
Very happy, so joyful and alone      Wishing tomorrow would never leave
And we walk, down paths old           Like two explorers, from Europe
Arms reaching out to find                           We’re not sure what about
Yet together are                                                    And happy today
Water is cool                                                            Lake is dark
Smiles                                                                          Soft skin
Two hands together                                     Ten fingers interlocked
I hold you close and dear                          You rest your head on me
My arms close around you tight             Your fingers send shivers
Like an angel, so true, sweet                              True to me.