For Me Again (A Young Man's Song)

the false fate
the false love
gravity's weight
this songless dove
do you hear
the church bells ringing?
and the hammer blows
of the clock
on the wall
eternally counting
of the endless seconds
struck and lost forever?
a bitter reprise
of a daybreak in defeat
and the dull weight
of the memories
of all my losses
in love and war
over so many years
come around again
and now the hour's
growing late
and here's another
broken piece of me
condemned to the page
in the last
rays of light
as this new dawn
fades.

the only gift
from on high
the fire in the heart
the blazing trails
of love in truth
and the innocence
of soul
weightless once
changing
fading
dirt and dust
the fire's out
in the hearth
the last burning ember
of the broken kiln
faded away
ash and rust
tattooed on skinny wrists
where the stars map
all the paths
of my
possible pasts
in razor blade
lines

For me, again
the bottom drawer
tossed away
with the square pegs
and the rounded holes
and all the other
useless things
like ashes spread
among the dust
and fallen leaves
that get lost
and
float away
on the wind
until Fate's hand
drags me back
for its
empty purposes
again.

For me, again
a world
I could do
without
where I went home
from the war
to find out
I didn't know
anybody
anymore
than I knew
who they expected
me to be
and left
to die
and lie in state
too fragile
to climb
the stairs
just yet
so for a little while more
I don't think
I need
much of anything
at all
lying here
naked
and shivering
on the floor

For me, again
disease and poverty
among the
parking lots
and
sidewalks
where now I know
I'll always walk alone
waiting, watching
hunting the shadows
that move
without a sound
through the upper air
and atmosphere
in the starlit skies
where it all goes on
where no-one sees
or no-one speaks
but the song
goes on
time and time
again

For me, again
the sleepless nights
where I'll stare
at the walls
for hours
and wonder
where the light went
and in watching all
the evening skies
remember
that in a certain sense
the moon
is nothing more
than a mirror
for the sun
and I'll wonder if I've
ever had any warmth
to give
that wasn't first
a gift to me
before I wake
and remember
that all the stars
don't shine for me
out here
bought out
and burned away
in the black
and crimson
skies
of the city

For me, again
the empty comfort
of the women
who find their way
through this maze
of chains and iron
blackened brittle metal
hung to hide
this darkened room
from the sight
of all the
endless river ways
and neon bright
highways
and lie beside me
with their
perfect bodies
of glowing light
I guess
we'll waste away
the night

For me,
the empty
wastelands
and deserts
where I'll bury
my broken limbs
along with
my past,
my dreams
and some
bullet shards
where I'll spend the days
burning away
in the sun
just hoping
for something
to finally grow
here
and stay

For me, again
the year of
silence and cold
quiet distance
the blank mask
the tired eyes
watching the lost
and found
all swimming past
and I notice
their eyes don't
turn away
like mine
cast ever down
towards the ground
but stare bright
and straight ahead
to all the
golden promise
of the
day

For me, again
the crippled heart
bleeding
useless
beating
in time
to marching snares
and the day's reveille
so I'll bid a last salute
to all the torn banners
and the ragged ruined flags
and though
I'd rather leave
the battlefields
to the kids who still think
it's worth a damn
the uniform fits
and really
it's the only thing
I've got to wear

For me, again
the empty page
with my thoughts
in the past
but present tense
and with pen in fist
and empty spaces
I'll try again
to draw a face
and spell a name
and finally put
all the letters
and lines
in their proper places
with these
humble words
that never end
but to come
around again
written at the first
but always falling
away
off the page
before I can ever
even finish
a sentence

Author's Note

An older piece, 2011 or so? A thing of love and war and madness...

Reviews

[Pete]

wow, some song. a little bit of everything with the kitchen sink. nice word weaving, impressive piece ... :)

[John Sullivan]

One from a younger, more heartbroken fella... thanks for reading, Pete

[Neville]

I wonder whether you found this a cathartic exercise John .. I imagine it took quite some time for all the words to fall so perfectly into place and make so much sense .. indeed even reading between the lines it makes so much sense .. I think I may have answered my initial question .. I now believe you did .. and quite writely so .. Neville

[John Sullivan]

At the time it was very cathartic.... I had a thing for a young poetess that didn't work out... Ah, the games of children...

[Neville]

oh' yes indeed and who didn't at one time or another :)

[John Sullivan]

Always a pleasure, Nev

[FPW]

I get the sense this poem may just have lifted some weight off your troubled shoulders upon its completion. It’s a gut wrenching outpouring and a monumental task very well achieved. For some of us the battles just continue long after the wars are done. Such an honest, free flowing composition, John.

[John Sullivan]

Thank you so much for reading! Yeah, I was a young man with a troubled mind... but life is better now. Simpler, honest...