Wednesday, October 31, 2012

SON CAUCHEMAR PENDANT QUE L'ENTERREMENT DE PIERROT

Des montagnes sans des arbes poucent contre un horizon.
Pendant que vous survolez, cette ange.
Pendant que nous survolions, ces anges.

Vous et moi, nous manquions l'arbre de la fete quotidienne.
La vie etait riche, ma chou.
Avec une tristesse douce.  Avec la tristesse douce.

Volez-vous toute seule, maintenant?  Volez-vous toute seule?
Je ne vous manque pas du tout.
Je ne vous manque pas du tout.

HIS NIGHTMARE DURING THE BURIAL OF PIERROT

Mountains without trees push against a horizon.
While you fly overhead, this angel.
As we fly overhead, these angels.

You and me, we long for the tree of daily life.
Life is rich, my sweet.
With a sweet sadness.  With the sweet sadness.

Do you fly all alone, now?  Do you fly all alone?
I don't miss a beat with you.
I am right with you every step of the way.

Monday, May 07, 2012

TRIXIE, BENEDICT, NATALIE, HALO

To lure you in, this mockingbird
Drifts and stalls...
Thinking things are just so...
Little may he know...
Tempests are surging
In blood.
Down by the black rabbit USA metropolis
the swamp has some slims
but shootin' it by the pool
was for the sun and the water.
Thank you for being in it,
Like a treat. 

SCA 2012.05.08

Saturday, March 31, 2012

HOW HIGH THE HOLY TEMPLE?!

Climb into the sky,
but only with your heart.
All will be revealed,
as finished at the start.

Well, we gonna' rise up, gather, singin'
Break through, the stars are ringin',
All one, the angels wingin',
We gonna' rise up and gather, singin'!

How high the holy temple?
How high the holy temple?

Porcelain steeple, blood pumping thick.
The height of this one, a chemical trick.
Walls rest, in the shadow, of matter on thought.
And there is no lesson that was not already taught.

A thorn bush yields crown of true bone,
which merrily goes around my head.
Tender heart is worn and torn,
but I see a crack in the sun, oh ascending one,
and all the dust is dancing!
And all the dust is dancing!

How high?!
How high?!
How high the holy temple?!

How high?!
How high?!
How high the holy temple?!

THE MORNING AFTER

The morning after
Alone, alone
I was still alive
Thoughts of the
day before
tasting sicky-sweet
on a dream-parched brow
Sobriety, alike to whiskey burning,
admonished yesterday
and wobbled out
into a new one.

SCA (1-17-99)