The banality of evil
Could’ve been a Devil’s plan
But he never signed the deal
He’s a decent kind of man
He’s aware of dialectics
Without evil there’s no good
Both are slaughtered in eclectic
Caesar salad that he could
Purchase in the local store
For the evening meal with wine
Just the same as day before
Good and evil to confine
But the line is fast to blur
And the meaning quickly sunk
And it clearly occurs
That he’s tiddly, if not drunk.
Promised oasis
hidden in banality
suburban secret
Blurred clouds disappear from the sky
It’s dusk, my favorite hour of the day
You’ve gone, and you will never tell me why
And never you will hear the words I say
It’s the banality of horror that I live
Without your smile, your loving guiding light
There’s no spiritual world I can percieve
I wasn't wired for the tricks of loser's mind
A dry bread crust I cannot pick to carry on
Life’s cheap handouts I don’t want to get
Its only you I want, my love, with you I’m home
Though it’s a home of memories you left.
Nothing but horses on a merry go round,
painted faces, costumes and lies based on facts.
We’re all wearing masks
that disguise us from ourselves more than others,
making it so hard for anyone to really know at all
what they want or need until they lose it.
There is no typical or expected or proper or appropriate;
only expectations of propriety
and viability of options
and hiding tears behind smiles
and running up hills and down aisles.
It’s padded chairs and seat belts
and artificial light
and plans never completed-
Love never returned,
and electric blankets and solitary music
and pictures of angels
and books about lovers.
The banality of my reality
made me totally rethink
goals and relationships
that've brought me
to the brink
everyday insanity
of hustle work and lies
I'm here not there
and there is where
my sanity resides
I sneak a smoke
walk down the road
walk past the first house,
a farm house
Light up
take a long, blistery drag
(An occasional luxury nowadays,
my first in a week)
It hits me
It hits me
a pair of siamese trees
looms over me.
Pass the trees
I look at the field
little plants
the color of asparagus
witha lighter shade
reflecting off them
An army of trees
stationary and popping
in the background
under a baby new sky
It is a good day
whent he world
looks like a Rembrandt
No dogs barking today
They're cool 'cause I'm cool
Second house
only a couple hits left
There are few things sadder
than the last hit
of the last cigarette
It resembles
a lost love
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