Friday, January 16, 2009

Song of the Souls


This is the call of a
Desperate soul as the leaves
Of the summer
So dry
And red-brown
Have all fallen down
Through a bottomless hole
So much mulch
On the dark forest floor
Alone in a gulch
He will sing,
And scream
And sing some more,
Sing,
Like a dying cicada
Who has met the jack frost
And felt his cruel sting
That loving, killing kiss
Such cost
His breath pours forth
Defeated hiss
But yet
Is not death the
Ultimate bliss?

This is the song
Of an ancient soul
Whose heart has drawn
So heavy
Unsteady
A wizen'd soul
In what wise?
The Saint of Liars
In cheap disguise
Who has lost his way
Each choke of his heart
Moves less of his blood
Fewer and fewer days
Feeble ripples in the sea
With starfish graveyards
Just beneath
His thoughts come crashing
Surf across the reef

And he sings this song
This poem of life
Rhymes of a child soul
Devil'd, beguiled,
For are we not all children
In this plasma of God?
This cosmic soup?
Forever alone
As we search for our group?
Our words have scant meaning
Mere frames,
Empty shells
Of far deeper truths
That we know so well
But dare not say
Cannot today
Today is yesterday
Tomorrow is gone
There is no way
For the essense of heart
And soul
For long
Across these teeth
And tongue to roll
And yet
We are the chant
The get
Of all yogis at once
A field of crickets
Hyenas at the hunt
Ten trillion hives of
Domestic bees
Buzzing a tribute
To the rest of ourselves
We are our own disease
Each life is a spark
A pulse,
A quark
We are electrons
We are in the dark
We are peanut butter cookies
Someone vomited in the park
And this is our song
Our chorale
Our parade
We are living statues
Tarnished miracles
Replicas
See us fade
Stuttering models
Of the imperfect prototypes
Jehovah once made
We are the news
We are the radio
We are microchips
We are the blues
We are the waves
And this is our climax
Our fusion
Our saga
Large doses of magma
Chaotic disillusion
Too loud for an old soul
Too loud
Turn it down
Like the voices in his head
On a merry-go-round
We need change for the bus
A token,
We'd confess
We wandered through childhood
And got off in this mess

Yes,
This is our song.

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