The Yellow Water

The microphone's off, and the war has ended,

To the beach where my boats are stranded.

I contemplated death with a life not completed,

I just don't feel complete at all.

Dancing with the sun, I might marry one,

But the solar system hasn’t warmed my body at all.

I listen to the ticking of Jefferson’s Great Clock,

And fall asleep in the Entrance Hall.

I had a dream I was no success at all,

But it sucks me in like a leech on my arm.

And I know, at last, I will escape the enslavement of my mind,

If I indulge in its sickly-sweet soothing bombing blast.

I admire singers who have no voice at all,

Who become professional ringers,

Working in call centers in December to pay for four walls.

Who spent years on a Master’s degree in Philosophy,

And just to be a leader, you qualify for the job

If you dance to the jazzy tune of violence

And the raging winds in fall.

But remember, it’s all about connections that don’t dissolve.

The wealth organizes itself in circles,

And you cannot jump in the middle of it all.

Won’t you be my mentor?

Won’t you be my liar?

The bass is getting louder, the drums climbing higher.

I scrub my darkened wallpaper to make it look cleaner,

But I stain it all.

And still, I believe no one cares at all

If I smoked ten cigarettes and turned it yellow.

I cross the road with two feet on my throat,

Trampled by an imaginary door.

I vilify love ‘cause I’ve never had none.

When you want what you can’t get,

You work so hard to forget

That time has passed you by, leaving no room for regret.

What you want, you cannot get,

For the time that has passed must be spent to work for it and become great.

What you want, you have to earn for it.

That is the point of it,

I tell myself as I reach the breaking point, no less.

Do you think all the soldiers have died a good death?

Do you think self-doubt could lead to regret?

Do you even care at all about self-love?

Why does it feel like my soul is becoming the centerfold of Playboy?

While we all scroll for a lover and swipe left,

Buying an object of love packaged in a horrible bow.

There is a crisis in sight,

But I’ve never felt more alive

Than when I journal the war, and the external world stays so steadfast.

I’ve done it all alone, and God called me for a fight.

Jesus on a cross, but he doesn’t even bleed at all,

And his prayers are stuck on a credit limit.

But I respect his wishes,

And fight against the sins of my lethargy.

Lord, please forgive me.

Months pass like a rolling stone reaching a shore,

And millions of souls have been sold or perished to the bone.

It dawned on me that all this drinking

Has caused spots on my gallbladder, oh gee.

I haven’t changed; I’ve just learned to drink within my limit.

But limitations have no end at all.

I used to foresee a future where I’d never finish my plans to be,

But time passes, and my pocket holds a twig of garlic.

I ask my spirit guide for help, and it tells me, “You shall weep.”

It has cleansed something so impure in me.

Now I know what I’m supposed to not do.

I may not be a landowner, but I’m the lawnmower of my woes.

I could lower the void and heighten creative power.

Happiness makes time flow,

And experiences condense time.

I shall flow with the waves of life.

You find the aura is you and me.

When your time comes, it’s not another who can love thee.

The weather is now yellow. The Gestapo of waters has invaded your heart.

Hold the banister tight and jab a few words for your inner light.

Free yourself from emptiness; dig deep to find glittered hints

Of a woman with full lips walking to the Ritz.

Gospel could flock to your wrists

If you let it.

Frosted dreams could rush to your cheeks

If you let it.

Even with a flat tire, iron your shirt.

Across the ocean, the shore doesn’t bend

To the tormented changes of the weather.

You shall be secure.