When all the eyes of the world stand still
On the day of the gods at worlds end I'll
Ask them what they thought of me because
I'd like to know how I stand in their universe
True it's a selfish thought to be tilling for thoughts
When Ragnarok stares you straight in the eye
But then again I've always been fascinated by
Life and love than death and God
I'd ask all the countless minds I've met
How they perceived my guise in their eyes
And the lips I've kissed I'd ask if it tasted
Beautiful or could they feel the lies
And I'd talk to them all for days on end
When days lose meaning for I'll have time
And I'd aim to understand all my mistakes and misfortune
And maybe then I'd feel alive
When it's already too late
For then all the ghosts would speak
Unlike the ones I see
Right now
And I'd have closure
Hounded not by voices on the street
And the ripples on the sheet
That scream
Bloody murder
So I wish for the end of the world and all its dear holdings
Just for a chance to speak freely and true
And now that I've written it down I find it ridiculous
I'm probably being ridiculed right now by you.
I always found it weird how he laughed at the world
Yet never let the world laugh at him?
How he could be a terror to those he despised
Yet desired those who I thought deciphered him.
True I hated him but when my best friend helped hinder
My hatred to happy hangouts and joy
Because she saw in him a sight which I still haven't seen
Or even think I've gleaned but I trusted her glimpse
And I thought for a moment I understood him
And I thought for a moment we were friends in arms
And when he showed the same scorn to those I despised
I thought for a moment I'd deciphered him
And I'd laugh along because I thought I was a part
Of his scheme, an accomplice rather than adversary
And I'd laugh along because I thought they deserved it
And that I was doing karma's work through the guise of friendship
Because all in all who'd rather be a stranger to a savage
Than a helping hand hidden behind the leash
Last night I fought with him on the phone and felt the scorn of so long ago
That I'd almost forgotten, because of a little thing I did that I didn't even know
Would piss him off or anybody and he said I'd gone too far
And I found out that the curious specimen that I thought he was
Was the way he saw me all along
A deviant, a devil, a thing to be drowned with kindness
And then stabbed while delirious
A hog
Truthfully I don't want you to be bored
By all my pious pipings
Because honestly they're a chore
And I'm drunk when I'm typing
Words to the world words to the wise
With a wink and a sigh and torture
That I put the reader in because you don't deserve
The happiness of reading a poem
That I've put my blood in when you can't even feel
My pain and love and fervor
The truth is we're all Jesus Christ
And we're all crucified
And the truth is it don't even rhyme
And I didn't even write it
I knew a boy who cut his heart
Because a girl won't listen
And he wrote her songs on gilded pages
That flipped but never glistened
He packs bags now at groceries
And covers songs on you tube
I don't even have anything to say
I don't even have a clue
I thought him foolish for what he did
I never understood it
But now I pain over a girl
I didn't paint and so I rue it
It's funny fern was on my mind
When I read that furled up story
But Toomer's a tumour that grows and grows
And now I've turned a boring
Contemplator of thoughts dark and daring
That revolve around a girl
Who is and isn't ever there
And now I feel a pearl
In my throat like an oyster
Thus I sing this storied story
So fuck me and fuck you all
I'm done I'm out
I hope you're happy
Well all the poets I've read always said
there's a magic in poverty
Walk the streets in rags carrying paper bags
might just lead you to sanity
And I thought them the truth so I followed suit
and I spent like my pocket was burning
Now I'm hungry and tired and meekly attired
and too sick to even start earning
Oh, if only I'd remembered that the poets of old,
Those English ones with their love of glory
Were all rich kids, spoiled more than bold,
In their warm, grand houses dreaming up things gory;
Those french ones who did indeed end up poor
Had riches thrown at them, but spurned 'em for spite
And the one young lad who survived the chore
Spurned poetry, and chose noon rather night.
It should be a point to be made, you see,
Don't make young boys dream of glory
If they can't ill afford Pegasi to fly
Or even horses to jaunt or ride
And are stuck with donkeys that don't walk much
Like the one in Pooh,
And then won't be shocked as such,
When they find that metaphors don't rule the world
And that a great rhyme can't fix life.
I was never the guy to understand art.
But there was this one painting I saw
Hung on the walls of a friend’s exhibit
That tugged at my heart strings because
It was a sad smile on the face of a beautiful girl.
That seems stupid you might just be inclined
To say, and knowing you, you probably would
Just say that, but not too long ago
You wore the same smile too.
And I tried a lot to wear it off
To tear it off, sometimes, forcibly
But I only made you cry because
I had the same smile too,
And a joker can’t make a clown happy-
Because we know the game and how it’s played
But there were moments when I briefly succeeded
And in those moments I fell in love with you
But, there was always a “but” involved
Be it things that couldn’t be helped or those
That shouldn’t be messed with, but always the hope
That I could make you smile without the sadness
Made me feel alive and want to try
Again and again,
But then one day,
You told me you’d fallen in love and
How happy you were and
How beautiful it was and
The “ands” never stopped and the “buts” never came
I saw you smile for the first time that day.
A smile unabashedly gleaming with happiness
Enough to drive any envy away
Or thoughts of malice, so much so that
I could’ve flown to the stars and copped you a comet
And it wouldn’t have made a lick of sense
Because you had already felt a chiming
With a soul that turned coal hearts dense
And then diamonds, or that’s how I think of him
And I love him for that and how he loves you
I asked the artist how he came up with the painting
He told me it was a portrait of a friend of his
Who used to be depressed, but now was married
Happily and with two kids
That’s why he called the painting “The Parting
Of life in Throes and Life Yet Unlived.”
