not much for regrets

It makes me unstoppably sad to think
that we must end up hating each other, from love
and the reason for that: it's the only good way
to burn out and away all the good that there was

that we can't live with now. But we can't put it out
'til we've dragged it all down and made sure it's destroyed
once you finally decide - or did I? Was it me?
- that the good that there was, wasn't worth it to keep.

All the good things we had, all the things that were true,
are the enemy now - we'll unite and we'll slay
well we have to hate now, because we've been betrayed
by what we both believed in
too little to save

Jesus wants me for a soldier

Jesus wants me for a soldier
I war on the enemy Satan
the Grace of God is my armor

I call on the enemy to show himself
"COWARD!" I yell
full to the brim
bursting with the Confidence of God

Satan. HAH! What a puss.

If Satan presented himself
before me on the field,
arrayed in all his vile
splendor, preening, marshaling
his armies of demons before him,

why,

I would cry out "Ready to die,
now Lord!"

And Lord God would gird my loins
with the fortitude of Scripture
yea, the sharp sword of the Word
with angels as my shieldbearers,
and for my Shield: the true, one
holy true name of God, which none
may look upon, and live.

Then the battle would commence,
and it would be like one of those
epic recruitment ads for the Marines

I'd win of course, and there would be
a big gleam head to toe, and my battle-
stained outfit would be replaced with
dress blues. I'd be the first sergeant
of the Honor Guard of the Kingdom of Heaven

only humble with it, you know? humble. Just
doing my sworn duty, to the Commander-In-
Chief.

(That's you there, J.C.)

OFFICER ON DECK!!

PRESENT ARMS!!!

Listen: I'm Right Here. Did You Know That?

Listen:
I want to tell you something
I'm right here
I'm right here
I'm right here

did you know that?
and I've always been
I'm right here
I'm right here
and I'm going to be
I'm right here
I'm right here

Refrain:
That's the way that it's been
and so be it
I'm right here
and you know it
I'm right here

Chorus:
I'm right here
I'm right here
I'm right here
and there's something else:
I'll always be

Baby:
sometimes
and there will always be those times
no matter what
I'm right here
I'm right here
I'm right here
and you know that
and so what?
I've always been.

I'm always.
to be with you?
and with you!
and with you!
and on my mind
no matter what
and you knew that.

Bridge:
I'm right here
I'm right here
I'm right here

Outro:
I'm right here
I'm right here
I'm right here

and you've Known That
or: Haven't you?

Spoken:
I'm right here
I'm right here
here for you
here for you
I'm so right
here for you
how's that for you?
yeah, that's sunshine

Hot, dry skin?

Hot, dry skin? Rough
hands?

Rough hands, sliding
up and down your hot,
dry skin? Parched
tongue, hot, flitting
under the ridge of
your white teeth, then
gliding back along
the top of your hot,
parched, pouting bottom
lip?

Eyes wide, pupils dilating?

Prickling heat like a
fever coming on, not
rising from inside but
settling in from all
over your whole skin
at once? Breath coming
in short, ragged gasps,
counterpointing the
birdlike thumps of your
quickening pulse? Involuntary,
soft sighing moans?

The room, slowly spinning
in waltz-time, your vision
narrowing down upon the one
thing left that's grown
to fill your mind?

A sudden overpowering
sensation, taking hold? Fits
of tormented, spasmodic bucking
and thrashing? Loud groans and
yells that sound equal parts
panicked and triumphant?

All that sounds pretty
alarming! You might want
to see a doctor or something.

First, try drinking some water.
Two glasses of water. Some
of that's definitely
dehydration symptoms. At least
half of that sounds like
dehydration to me. Not sure
about the yelling. Drink
a glass or two,
slowly,

and see how you feel.

the old campaigner

I throw
my useless armor to the ground
and my knees
touch down
twin impacts
as the facts sink in, my crusade
over now
this is where I will end
and now that I know,
I'll begin

my throat
burnt raw, slick
with flowing streams of pain
dried beds, with the river burned in
if I ever had a drink
I can't remember, but no matter
I never will again,
the last mouthful of water in my metal
canteen, I'd been saving up for three
whole days,
I finally unscrewed the cap,
hiss
it escaped - steam
evaporated

that was two whole days
ago

I watched it stream up
thin
into the bluest sky,
the closest thing
to a cloud that I've seen in a while
or will see

before I die

simple request

get me
what I want, please
get it for me, don't
tell me what it is, just
hand it to me, give it over
I won't even look, I'll
just thrust it into my pants
pocket and for once: feel
sufficient. Me unto myself,
it unto itself, me
with what
I want

That's
what I want.

Get it for me.

the future never forgives

our future's coming back around
it didn't much care for being left out
it didn't much like being left behind
with all the promises we made to it,
over time,

collected in a bag - thrown to one side.
it's got things to grind, not axes alone
but our noses, and hearts, like grain on stone
our future's coming back for us,
to
pick
a bone

practice making friends

I'm moving in a couple months, so I thought
I should practice making friends now.

"Hey,"

I said, but it didn't come out right. It didn't
sound sincere. I had to regret, retreat, again
like I always do.

Do you know how hard
it is for me?
Would that be a fruitful, possible topic
for conversation? Hey,
stranger.

I couldn't help
but notice your face. It's really
on there pretty securely.
Nice job.
Shoot.

Why
do I
always come off
sounding like an idiot
to myself? Before, during and
after the fact? And other people
eat it up

I swear, I don't know which is more disturbing.

More Sudden Awkwardness of Love

my head got hit by lightning
my cock shot straight out / glowed
my teeth got chattered
all at once
because you said: you knowed

I looked at you intently
and asked you what you meant
you looked at me, most quizzically
and said
"um
your head is on fire,
or something?"

I wanted to impress you
and seem like Not A Jerk
so I ran and answered a Want Job ad
at Terrific Place To Work

I told them "money," and they said
"time,"
Which seemed quite 'eye to eye'!
Then they said: "Look: before you start,
Your head is on fire. You'll
have to do something about that."

I asked, "Won't that be
covered under benefits?" They said
"Pre-existing condition."
They never said anything about
the other thing. (I was wearing
very dense, heavy

pants)

self-censorship fail

I bit the inside of my cheek
(I meant to bite my tongue)
the words that came out
were worse than what
I bit my tongue (or
tried, and missed)
to cut

attractive, with qualifiers

stinky hippie chicks with kinky hair
and skinny lips and endless limbs stained brown
by endless suns baked in,

I find that attractive, I guess. Under certain conditions.
From a distance, downwind for instance, or through
the window of a car as I'm driving by, and she's
on the other side, not getting in. I find that
pretty attractive.

Not that I have any issues with her! doing
her own funky thing
her own funky way,
but really, you know.

Patchouli is a problem,
not a solution.

further to fall

Look: there's a problem with the world
I've seen, and I don't know if anyone else
has noticed. People

learn the worst lessons they can. They do
this deliberately, as a deliberate choice.
Take every bad lesson to heart, so that
they "can't be hurt that way again."
They pick up as many grudges
as they can
carry. Anything good - taught,
learned, given, received - is allowed
to be outweighed, because the bad lesson
is a more important lesson to learn, than
the good one. The bad lesson - protects you?
Once you learn that bad lesson, you don't
have to worry. No more good can get in, and

only the good can hurt you.

Look, I'm not giving anyone here
on earth advice. At least, if I have,
then I apologize it was probably bad. People
deal with things differently. That doesn't mean
it's wrong. I deal with things one way, you
deal with things your way. I deal with things
poorly.

That's not your fault or your problem. I can take
it, it's mine. Personally, honestly, I'd rather be hurt
again.

I

can

take it.

At least once more,

I can.

So far,

that's all I need to be sure of.

a cat to dangle

we all have a cat to dangle
over the heads of our foes
to threaten them with
all the consequence
(metaphorically, I suppose)

beat the rush

we beat the rush
of butterflies and
honey, that initial
head over
-flows
over heels
is over

yeah,
we lived through that
okay

we made it out, only
slightly the worse
for the wear

and we lived a few years on
cheap wine and sarcasm
ran out of sarcasm, about
the time that last bottle
ran dry

and we found we couldn't afford
any more

we knew we had reached
our whatever it was

and you knew how much I loved you,
then

you knew that it wasn't much.

but you were wrong,

again.

like you knew even then
like you still know, now

and now it's time to give up
on something nearer and dearer
to us

than every bad habit we've ever
crushed

yes, it's time to give up on giving
up.

candy's got fuzz

ooo m'
candy's got fuzz
must a fell on the ground
or been sticking around
in m' pocket too long
but I'm a suck on
suck on suck
on it anyhow
suck on it any
how suck on it
anyhow

candy's got fuzz
coulda been a little
while now, wrapper
came off, I'm a
suck on it anyhow
sure enough sweet
as it is, I'm a
look both ways
before a treat
and I pop it right
in my mouth

and suck on
it anyhow
a suck on
it anyhow
candy's got fuzz
I'm a suck on
it anyhow

candy's got fuzz
I'm a suck on
it anyhow
candy's got fuzz,
and I pop it
right
in my mouth

"dumb me down"

and words you say, don't
dare explain - I know what's
meant, I know what means
what
lies between,
and what's implied
- I've looked it up
right in your eyes - don't
tell me what, I know what's right
your love makes sense, or
sense enough. I don't need
you to spell it out. I've looked
it up - straight from
your mouth

brand, shining new.

The brand on my heart is brand shining new
you seared your true name in a sigil, it's sealed
on the fibre and twitch of this muscle for love
that pulses my blood in your name, hot and real

my handprint on you, is brand-spanking new
as if to say ownership, chattel and claim!
it glows rosy bright, softens smartly to white
still it stands out invisible, spelling my name

Your claim on me is mine.

My mark on you is yours.

- a gift given freely, from each unto each
and you smile and blush, my eyes lower and grin,
each tentatively, with so much
to give in

domestic arrangements

I get the butter in the jam
all the time. no one else even
uses the jam! that jam is mine.
I don't get jam on the butter.
I'm careful and I never slip:
butter first, jam after, and
what harm does a little butter
do in the jam jar? I go through
that jam so fast - a little creamy
smear from a well-buttered knife,
dipping in for some jam - well,
those two go so well together!
They can socialize a bit, in the
jar. Where's the harm? Hello,
jam, so robust and sweet. Meet
your future husband: butter.

See how well they get along!

requiem or bust

I'll send a prayer along after:
for all of the good it'll do you,
that's why! I'll send a prayer, oh
humor me, listen - where you've gone,
by now, you know better than I. Is
there laughter? Singing? Nothing?
Maybe nothing. Maybe you know
no better - maybe nothing
was the last thing you learned.
A lesson through and through;
learned at once and completely
- the answer to everything,
at last.

Or maybe we both guessed double-wrong:
is there burning? Flesh, torn and boiled
in lakes of fire, and God over all,
unsatisfied? Wanting to see more?

I don't believe that. And you
didn't either.

Well I'll be joining you soon
enough, then.

amen.

nothing to lose

well I guess my respect
was "nothing to lose"
as for getting it back
it's a bit late for that

you've got nothing to offer
in heaven or earth
what you do have is bad
what you lack's even worse

I need you for nothing
for what - "make me think?"
I can do that myself
far too much for my health

I don't care what you've lost
or what you've done so far
or what you're doing next
or what your questions are

find your answers yourself
you invent what you see
I don't care what you think
or believe about me

so believe me or not
I am walking on air
since I finally gave up

on what -

you?

I don't care.

seven up

seven flights of stairs
below me lives the world
on level ground
I sit here looking out
my window, down to where
they rush around
it's not so high they look
like ants, they're more like
dolls, of doll-house size
I walk down every morning,
then I walk back up
for exercise

that girl was feckless

the girl who sat by me on the train
was feckless, slight of build, and
about something-three. Twenty-three,
or thirty-three.

I don't know how I could tell
she was feckless. She said
nothing, the whole trip absorbed

listening to music, presumably her
music (though it could have been radio?),
through two snaking white wires that ended

in buzzing white berries, stuck snug
in her feckless ears. There can be
no doubt as to her fecklessness,

though. I am and have always been
a shrewd observer, and I can tell
these things and others - even though

I may not be able to tell how. Very
slight signs key the revelation - none
of them on their own will flash:

"feckless"

- but together, they build it up
conclusively, for me to see. She
was feckless. Her hair, frayed

a bit by dye jobs, the last one
a shockingly mousy tone, her skirt
was a dim purple, as if it too had

been dyed, but with a slightly off
color from the faded original, and
the two purples did not get along.

I assumed it had been bought used,
a thrift shop find. It was a quality
garment, but she seemed too feckless

to be re-dying faded clothes; therefore
someone else had done it. Its purple-
gray was not unpleasant, and it went

well, with everything else she had on
- though it matched with nothing.
I'll spare you the dissection

of the rest of her outfit. Leave it
to say that an impression of feck
-lessness was built up. Her face,

even, intent on the face of the boxy
device her white wires fed into, even
though there was no video screen or

any sort of interest. She didn't look
up from it once. Never turned her head
in my direction as I sat facing forward

like a blind man, in shades. She was
about three rows up in distance, although
there were no rows between us. I sat

in the front of a front-facing section,
and she sat in the middle of one of the
side-facing seat sections, that ran

along the wall. She didn't look up once
from that box, even when I came in (that
was when I saw the front of it, no display

screen) and sat down. She seemed feckless,
even then. The impression was instant
-aneous. Perhaps it was her face, which

had freckles in abundance. "Freckles" is
a bit suggestive of "feckless." Yes, I
think that's it! Ah, the fecklessness of

youth.

forever's another name for it

you and I are forever, and we
have been. It's been that long
already, and it keeps going on
like a dance that ends at midnight,
on a planet that never turns - but
the party stays cool at 11:45,
while the stationary day-side burns

When we tire of the revelry, we slip
out the back. Sure of thought, and of
perfect pure form, we go where we please
in black. One time,

we two immortals walked out in the wars.
While we sighed and we glanced, every side
showed a gaping wound. And we glanced
and we sighed, as the shell fragments flew
and the cracking shots glanced off your skin
and now a whistling bomb falls, a direct hit
on my love for you

we are not moved, but we have to shake and
brush off, scoop the caked black dirt and clumps
of mortal flesh, that rained up and covered us
as we stood, untouched. It is absurd, but neither
of us feels like laughing. "Why did we come here,
dear?" I ask. "You know there's nothing we can do
to stop it."

"I know." You scowl. "I came because there's nothing
we can do to stop it."

I expect I'll live another million years, and still never
figure you out.

as good as inevitable

you put
a finger to your bitten lip
and giggle an apology

for making nature take its course
you've many subtle strategies

that lead down winding ways, all smooth
and slick, with careful slips and steps

to follow as you lead on down

you worked it out

this way is best

persistence of vision

the future used to be for us,
and now it's just for me
my clear eyes know that it's a lie -
once true, now fantasy
I look ahead at what was lost
it hasn't faded yet
it seems like I could just wake up
and step right into it

jump go get

here it comes
Friday
move
last chance
go
jump
prove
work hard
hit
while
can
fuck
that's it
I'm outie
man

most of my ghosts

most of my ghosts aren't dead,
but they haunt nonetheless
I've a theory that any event
with sufficient force can imprint
on its surroundings, and be sensed
by a sensitive soul. Now, psychic,
I most definitely am not! Still,
I see where you passed and left
a hole. Your ghost, a vision (as you
always were) in negative light,
you stand there looking at me -
a look I can never forget, because
your ghost won't let it lie. A look
like the last look you ever gave, like
the last look I'll ever get, before
I die

how many lives left, now?

there's a damn cat
that sounds like a woman having loud sex out there

It's definitely a cat, I looked

it doesn't sound like a cat.
It comes round each night, about
this same time

I don't know what it wants. or what
it thinks I'm about to give it. maybe
the previous occupant used to feed it, or

maybe

in a previous life, it was a woman
who was loud at sex

and it still remembers part

of how that
goes

my right, or?

was it my right, or
your left? Either way,
we both dodged in that
direction, and clonk!
ow
heads!
I can already tell,
we aren't going to be
agreeing on how that
was supposed to have
happened
yet

strength, for fools

strength, for fools
is futile - struggle
always, always look
up too late, see - we
've gone in the wrong
direction! Turn back
in anger, self-defeated
and self-enlightened,
self-possessed, and
self-deceived - each
of us knows best, and
we know: we will try
and try harder, until

until.

I am a fool, which I
've known for some time,
and done nothing about.
I am about the minding
of my business. I will
plan twice as careful,
I am husbanding my
strength, for one last
push against doubt. For
fools, strength is
futile.

But it's all I have,
and I will make it
enough.