Waiting to be manic

Waiting to be manic
Waiting for the magic
Sorting through my pills,
                         my memories
Hoping for the right fix,
                         to save me,

there are cracks in the vinyl stools of the VFW
there saddled with a kid
and a crazy wife
Dad
    I want to fade
           Don't want your pain
                     Don't want to be unwanted

"You're not think'n straight"

Those days, those war years,
The spaces between
The drugs we become
Every one has someone to blame
God exist for someone to blame

You know my mother was crazy,
Crazy down the hall,
The street,
Big and wailing,
Frizzed hair....obsessions
Wildly and wonderfully...insane, talked to animals, angels.....
Danced in the morning, sang........

Up my dose of mefixor, youpushor
     My record's skipping...mis-fire...my god it's full of sky
Full of....such wonderful chemicals in it,
     New and brave, the blues...whites...caplets...xls
   
Never got to be at your death bed
....doctor it's not enough

When are you gunna come through
....f**k it, just leave it raw

Beer bottles clank in the basement
     A threat below
Diner simmers in pantomimes
     A scene of grease
                       and desperation
The motions of domestic hauntings
The ghosts of the linen on the lines,
and hearths that leave none hungry

diner’s soot weighs down the spider webs
The ex-nun wonders if Christ pays alimony

The misfit boy wonders where he fits in this legend
These archetypes so bright, so above, so below, so knowing I existed because of broken vows, so knowing the lives the measure their mark by those left so long ago on those dusty roads, so reaching for the meaning, in all seasons, below all words and reasons, the form behind the motion of lives in silhouette, the heat and breathe of those meaty lives, blended the Earth’s turning,
Leaving roam for the world in my backyard
a boy and a dog and....

                             the darkness, the stale breathe, on me,
                             the strangeness, the dirt that can’t be washed, the wandering

                the boy

He wanders alone to find company

                    Cathedral forests
                    Caves of making
                    Fire of the punks

Painful youth, skin thicken by leather,
Pins abused and the power of being worthless

The power of sex, yes...yes the power of bringing you down to by loneliness,
Of you wanting something as loathsome as me
Are you dirty like me?
Been dirtied like me
Been stripped for reckoning
And tormented by knowing there was another away
Just listen.....

          Can you hear the air slicing as the rocket thrusts?
          And you see the boy wandering from adult insanity
          on the hills of Tyre.......


          Who won’t betray a million Jesus’ to save that boy
          What Jesus won’t die a million times to save that boy

  Blessed are those who mourn,
                                    Cursed are those who seek sanity