II.
I see from beneath my eyes, you are in a hot bath
So won't you wake up to wake me up.
Watch out for those tender traps, lit cigarettes
we have signaled spirits we shall never fear.
I have not broken a heart, but I'm willing to…start.
Where is every word you buried -
If not for your eyes, gods and children sleep…
they sleep in your eyes - I'm blinded

…I'm never Cary Grant leaning in the doorway
I'm not even Jimmy Stewart's mumble bumble charm.
I have not shot songbirds, only stolen apples
and yes I have smelled death
walked into it and passed it
I can't say I fear it much
I am not the wise cinematic hero I long to be.
Though you must know this is not for you.
I will be close enough to the man I need to be
so I'll smoke dope, try to get the job done
read the books that cough and whisper truth
- and so much about this damn beautiful enlightenment.
So won't you wake up to wake me up and
listen, won't you listen
these wounds are open, but do not bleed
yes, I sit here, such a contradiction, a stoic useless fuck.
Do you love the men who feed on your heart?
Do you love the men who feed upon your heart?
This is not for you, this is for me.

IV.

I am sorry,
If this is one damn bad one.
Like static on the television set
and her famous bleached white hair
and the words on the billboard go
"Let it snow, let it snow."
I've heard Hank Snow records
I've heard of corruption that ran so deep
even those who conceived it could not see
you are so much guile and charm
such pin-up Hollywood gloss and light
my heart like Robert Mitchum's
Hope you have never…
Have never seen "The Night of the Hunter"
Dressed up in those vintage skins
such a doll to the eyes of boyish men…
all I got is Iggy, and 'Lust for Life'
got blood in the life of me
and hate burning tiny holes in me.
And from you - fly by night kisses
of delicately frayed meaning that never goes,
"Let it snow, let it snow."
And God gave us Elvis, Iggy, and Brigette Bardot
…and then suddenly…this is revealed
All as some 'the end is nigh' nightmare
Then I walk back into a room
I walk in…
I walk in and (ten thousand times) I see you
such a godless goddess before me
then, I'm a vulture feasting on sin
so my blood turns in false light -
and into poison overnight
soon the saviors are gonna come
with this weak knee limp of the useless
so much pent up guilt sagging along
so they all sing along…
"And when the mirror done broke
Ain't no fixin' gonna change your luck"
This razor's edge I'm walkin'
footsteps echo out distant worry
and all in all, and all of this
I'm must a wounded deserter
A left wing militant surely dying
…we pause for a moment…
an aside entitled
'Love Poetry"
- both stray cats and gray hairs
are unwelcome guests…1-2-3…
I cannot help but to fear this life of poverty and perversion
all this inward cultivation, just breeds the bringdowns
this evolutionary trial yields to logic and love -
a speeding, careening force set to hit a red light.
And I have often wondered of the love poetry of dogs
if all that growling, howling bark of evening fever -
Is just an orchid of intent, songs blossomed to confess that…
within and without the world is one; and love and dogs will - always live.
THE END
…and…1-2-3
I can't talk to you woman
not without a lump of sugar in my throat
won't you turn on my radio
won't you help me sing that song
broken phrases, and token pauses
laid up in that emergency bed
rather die than know that loneliness
looks like all those friends have gone
born with this mark, darkened by curse
chosen to suffer so easily.
Can't dance to save my life,
no sir, I can't dance to save my life
though the guns are pointed, only music plays
soft flutes and a samurai sword
I'll certainly walk my way thru horror
I'll laugh off this degenerate mob
And 'Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."
And I hope I don't die until you love me,
And maybe one day, ask you to marry me.