Simple or Brilliant?

As he turned, unsure of weather he had leave to go, he blurted out to the only one who could hear him.

“I am the undevoted man of the unseen, half a being, dipped in Chrome and part of the machine. Wisdom leaves a tarnish, but I like the way it mutes the sun. I’m the man of light and chief of all undone. You cannot stop my march as I bumble past your life. I am not solid enough to hold, but I can still cut you like a knife. I am master of the inbetweeness and I shout “balance” in my mirror, come away or stay with me, I cant tell if I want you nearer.”

He said and then left.

The wise woman would say about men like him:

“Tread carful when you see this creature mired in his swamp. He is a storm of high mind and base desire moving towards impossible dreams and unheard of wants. Truths and lies boil in the same bubbles and so rapid do they rise, not even he knows which are his troubles. Tread carful.”


There once was a wardgarble big and strong,

Who played the tambourine all day long.

With a jingle and a jangle she would step to a beat,

And never was bothered by those who wanted her to eat.

The wardgarble went hither and thither and all the way fro,

Through the sand, the grass and, all in the snow,

Through sea, and sky, and through our great star,

No place is beyond the wardgarble to mar.

With no sympathy, aid, or any remorse,

The wardgarble continues its damnable course,

A Jingle and jangle all through the night,

An unstoppable force of power and might.

Feelin’ Old School

The carousel of people spin
In the shadow of the growing din
Sing to me drunken muses
Oh Sirens lead me to ruin
Pour down my throat a thousand boozes
And steal me from my fortune
To cave garage apartments and cigarettes
Eager faces and revel spat words

Deep thoughts and charred regrets
Miasmas of potions and herbs
Let the savage pleasures take me
Around the thicket fires we go
For when the light of sun breaks free
The leaves of our youth will have flown

Yet life itself is but a page
Turned for us too hastily
Before you write sardonic wage
Write how the marrow of life has graced thee
In drunken fights and careless blaze
In reckless words and sweet caress
In third eyes and Smokey haze
In hard chests and perfect breasts
Fear not age or disappointment
Your days are far from hell
Fend off those grim appointments
And drink from the spirited well
Tumble among the leaves
And recall the tops of the trees
For Life is a drought of many flavors
And each sip worth to savor