Best Songbook Poems
In his songbook,
are raving songs of beauty,
which thrushes around the phrases of my mind
and embroiders my soul on an errand
into a white night of a white Christmas,
in a white dreamland,
and having sleepless dreams,
and numerous pictures,
which I can’t clearly depict
but I could reminder an auction,
where flood, was sold at a discount
and breath, to the tallest bidder
Therein in,
my late hero brother,
cheerfully sang from his hero’s songbook
and I astonishingly sang along
with a bright smile and cry,
craving for a new hug,
but we could not hug nor shake hands
And he palely said to me,
I am back to stay,
never to leave
But I woke up, to notice it was a white lie,
Why so, my hero brother?
I try to anger in white lightning,
but I notice that my anger is colourless
and my sweat is adourless
I also try to use white magical feelings to give him a hug or bring him back,
but I could not,
because I am not a professional white witch,
My emotions has been white washed,
and I feel like white trash,
because my hero brother has been trash away from me,
by death
I feel like giving up my white ghost,
like a prostituted white slave,
by drinking up a full tank of white spirit liquid,
so I could be on his ream
But my hero brother begged me not to
He consoled me by saying;
that no matter how transparently apart we where,
his soul will never stop blowing the whistle of joy
or flash a white flag in surrender to death
Because his music will never end, nor will his whistle blend,
because the only thing he has freely given to death is a white feather of shame
This filled me will plenty white hope,
I will sob no more!
Because I now know that my hero late brother is a white knight
I will wait for him, in this unlabeled white land
till we meet and share hugs again
motley crue song book
to the top,we are redhot
thats the religion
VIII. THE RUIN
The river reflects
the moonlight
on a gravel road
I should have stayed on the farm
I should have listened
to my old man
She’s living in L.A.
with my best old ex-friend
There’s a hole
in daddy’s arm
where all the money goes
I don’t know
where we went wrong
Does anyone know
where the love of God goes
You better let
somebody love you
before it’s too late
From give and take,
and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I remember standing
there
(Yogi’s heavy collar jingling in the
hall, Gurty asleep by the amp)
until I remember
I only remember
the songs
that disappear
the moment
the music died
(the soul darkens)
IX. THE DARK NIGHT
OF THE SOUL
I have become
comfortably numb
Everybody rolls
with their fingers crossed
Freedom's just
another word
for nothing left
to lose
When you're weary,
feeling small
I will dry
your tears
You can't always get
what you want
But if you try sometimes...
Is a dream a lie
if it don't come true
Or is it something worse?
It's life's
illusions
I recall
I really don't know
life at all
I never knew
what silence
could do
Somewhere between
the time you arrive
and the time you go
may lie
a reason
you were alive
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
(the turning begins)
======
VI. THE RUNNING MAN’S
LIFE
She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running
Like a watercolour in the rain
Tramps like us
Baby,
we were born to run
The highways jammed
with broken heroes
On a last chance drive
It’s a wild world
It’s hard to get by
just upon a smile, girl
He was born
in the summer
of his twenty-seventh year
We’re just two lost
souls
swimming
in a fish bowl
No one told you
when to run
You missed the starting gun
(Stefi, Becca, Jules—how did the years
outpace the engine?)
(a poetry man since '73, the same three
chords still finding
new ways to break)
Talk to me some more
You don't have to go
Fathers taught me
how to leave;
the years taught me how to wait
After changes
upon changes
we are more or less the same
And then one day you
find
ten years
have got behind you
And then one day you
find
ten years
have got behind you again
There never seems
to be enough time
It was long ago and far away
the world was younger than today
All we are
is dust in the wind
(corridor break)
All we are
is dust in the wind
(the descent deepens)
VII. THE COLLAPSE OF
TIME
I’ve been lately thinking
about my life’s time
Time can bring you
down
Time can bend your knees
So you speak to me
of sadness
Then winter’s
for wondering
what went wrong
I have stood upon
the mountain
and looked down
on all the people
I’m going to be a
happy idiot
and struggle
for the legal tender
(pause)
I’ve seen fire
and I’ve seen rain
Still, a man
hears what he wants to hear
and disregards the rest
Across the evening
sky
all the birds
are leaving
In the year
of the cat
(the descent reaches its floor, hell)
======
END OF PART 3 of 5
By Poet "Read Away and Let Your Imagination Soar."
Candle's warm bright glow,
helps me to read my songbook,
Enjoying word flow,
fairies dance across my book.
Giving me a funny look.