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[Ethan Leon]: 613.Erotica Exotica, and Other Poems
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EROTICA EXOTICA, AND OTHER POEMS
by
Ethan Leon
Note: This is the collection in which I did some of my best writing in 2007, I wrote more poems than this, but others will have to be uploaded later on, if you read "The Wanderings", I mentioned this collection as "Phone Call to God".
For all those who call themselves Libertines.
______________
GUARDIAN'S OF THE SECRET
I have confided in you so many things,
In the silence of the dark lying on my bed—
Adjusting the weight between my chest and my life—
Ive often whispered what I would tell no one else,
Because I knew it would stay with you in the shade—
But then you were christened a name above mine—
And expectedly you sought salvation—as do we all—
And you knew the truth could only hinder your holy trek—
So you did the only thing you could—confesse
And let God see me for what I was—this wretch—this sinner—
Ive often wondered what it would have been like—between us—
If you had just kept hold of your tongue—and bit your lip—
What lies inside the box we buried, has been dug up and opened,
How are we to keep this to ourselves?—whe
I know what it’s been without the key in the lock—so open,
I have hated in my image so many things,
In the silence of the dark lying on my bed—
Ive always been in the night of the last days—
And Ive always been able to see myself for what I am,
And for that I hope to be treated spitefully in Hell—
______________
I HEARD A CRY IN THE NIGHT
I heard a cry in the night,
And knew it was you--
The tone that carried over the rooftops,
And came from the forest,
It sounded so pitiful, and sorrowful--
It almost brought me to forgive you--
I heard someone stumble on the path behind me--
And knew it was you who followed me,
The footsteps stopped as I slowed my pace,
And I knew that you had been around me--
I could taste your scent in the air,
And I knew it was you that had been around me--
I saw a reflection on the lake, beside my own--
And knew it was yours,
I knew you for what you are,
And knew we could not be more similar--
I once heard a cry in the night,
And I have never stopped listening--
______________
I WILL REMEMBER YOU
I will remember you,
Awkward moment, cold silence--
Warm breath--
I will remember you,
Pale face, small hands--
Sheets of the fortress--
I will remember you,
Pounding chest, long pause--
Great moment of it all--
I will remember you,
Or at least, I will try to--
For there are so many things--
That seem eager to pull me,
Into a new train of thought--
The brings me far from you--
I will remember you,
Still legs, lotus position--
Composed smile deep in thought--
But I am almost sure the day will come,
When I will find you dull--
I will remember you--
I will remember you,
For as long as I can--
For as long as you amuse me--
______________
INSOMNIAC
Dream your dreams for me,
So that I can share them with you too--
And perhaps the next time I fall asleep,
I shall dream them all for you.
Dream your dreams for me,
So that I can share them with you too--
And perhaps the next time I fall asleep,
I shall dream them all for you.
______________
MEMORY OF MY BIRTHDAY
The angels sighed “’blue’”,
Within sight of me, with you--
Draped along your flimsy arm,
This was my day of birth.
And it was there that God first shunned--
--me.
Backed away from me as if I had a tense--
--burning hate for him--even then,
But what did a child know of hate?--
I certainly didn’t know him--then.
All I could think, was that I had begun--
--anew.
______________
ONLY IN MIND
I saw your face in a snowflake,
And let it melt on my tongue--
Ingesting your image was stressful--
But I enjoyed the aftertaste,
I know you have looked at me,
The same way I have looked at you--
And that we could be--
More than we have been--
The leaves may have settled,
And to disturb them may be heresy--
But if you abolish your fear of sin--
Then you will never blaspheme again--
Come to my window in the sleet,
I will be there, the curtain drawn--
Find your place beside me in bed--
We have been this, but only in mind--
I know you have touched me, ‘accidentally’
And that our fingers always met--
And let our skin brush longer than needed--
And that you enjoyed it, just as I did--
We have been this, but only in mind,
And I cannot say that it will not stay that way--
For even as I write, you wander away--
And we will be this, but only in mind--
______________
THE DEATH POEM
Animals never cry,
For they know the laws of life,
From the moment they are born,
Until the moment they pass on--
They die without longing for life,
They know they must move on--
They have braved the wild for long--
Humans must be taught--
And pushed upward from the ground,
And like a plant they grow,
Away from gravity,
And twords the Sun in the sky--
They will learn they must move on,
Until they have braved the wild for long--
The wars Animals never know,
Cannot be summed in a poem--
Or the chanting of a thousand children,
But can be stopped by the Human race,
While the bodies collect on the ground--
And the cites of men fall,
While God just watches on--
______________
THE FOREST BETWEEN US
There once was a bridge--
Between my house, and yours,
And as I can remember--
We made it from cedar planks and aspen--
And hand carved the railings,
Our love was like a forest--
But then time passed and gave way to sorrow--
And what had aged fell away in mourning,
And the bridge we had created--
Fell into disrepair--fas
But even as we tried to save what we had--
Inside our souls turned from one another,
Yours faced the Sun rising eastward--
Mine turned to the Sun in the western sky--
Together we betrayed our love, together in infidelity,
Our love was like a forest--
And the trees fell down between us,
And left a gulf of compost and shavings--
There once was a bridge--
Between our two houses,
But even as it fell and we aged--
We still thought of each other--I know--
For sometimes in the morning, I see your eye drift west--
And I know mine meet your gaze--
______________
YOU'RE OFFER
Come away from the window,
Instead go outside,
The glass does not do justice--
When you are peering outwards.
For inside sits a throbbing mass in a chair,
Inquiring your moral.
Sitting beside you on the couch,
Sleeping beside you in the bed--
Why stay inside?--
When all you had to do was leave,
I never asked, you never told--
And left me here to wonder--
If the life inside the house,
Was all you actually had--
Cause’ if it were like you said,
Id’ decline you're offer--
______________
DEATH CAME WEARING A DRESS
Death came wearing a dress,
And I saw her look at me--
I asked her for her name,
She said it was Desire.
And that I was better off,
Asking Life for the time--
She made as if to go,
But instead gave me a kiss--
Before she left,
Then danced out the door,
Leaving me to wonder why--
Life is such a bore.
______________
EROTICA EXOTICA
I remember running in a field of sea shells—
Scarlet, pink, and purple—all there for some reason,
That I don’t seem to remember—
But I do remember that powder—it was almost a liquid—
That covered my naked body—it ran through my fingers—
As if alive—it coveted the strength of my sexuality—
Playing the Libertine in this moment,
Being the master of this time--
I am the king of the sexual renaissance--t
I drank from the goddess’ golden nipple,
I cavorted in her mystical wound—I was her leather slave—
And through it all she was screaming—
“Help me God I can’t sleep”—
And all I thought to say was—
“My what a dream”—
______________
FOR MY YOUTH LONG SINCE GONE
The heart may still live on,
But the beat has long since stopped,
And been replaced by a humming,
To the tune of “farewell God”--
And could the beat be replaced,
I would instead beat the drum.
As the Indian beat the drum--
Long before men traversed the world--
And could the humming be stopped,
It would only be replaced by a song,
A song of remorse,
For my youth long since gone--
And could my youth be replaced,
I would instead choose to die again,
And die this time in peace,
Instead of in mourning--
______________
STAIRWELL FROM THE BOTTOM
I dug myself in the hole again,
And this time there are no stairs--
To climb on weak knees and knuckles,
Dragging my legs behind my torso--
This time I have reached the bottom.
I remember when I was younger, Allah,
You used to tell me that you too fell often--
But always flew out again gracefully.
But then again you are a Seraph--
And ever ungrateful of your immortality,
You sit and watch me from your throne--
And tell me to build stairs where there are none,
So I can always know the layout of my soul,
And be the architect of my life.
But still you withhold the knowledge--
That would tell me how to start,
I think this is some ploy you use--
To gyp me my sanity again,
You bastard,
You’ve done it so many times.
The bottom isn’t so bad,
Except the top would bring me--
Eye to eye with you again,
And that I would so cherish,
I could push you in this hellhole--
And bilk you of your beauty,
And rob you of your youth--
I wouldn’t let it go to waste like you--
I would live for the moment,
If only I stood in the heavens.
The bottom is ever sinking,
Into the bowels of my skull,
Eventually we shall reach my heart--
And plow through it like a splinter,
And edge evermore to eternity--
In a capsule of fragile humanity.
The bottom is not so bad,
And the stair is building itself.
From the hate I have accumulated--
And will be finished just in time.
For you to watch me--
Walk past St. Peter’s gate,
And into Heaven’s first boulevard,
Where the saint’s sell their body’s,
And you watch the Libertine come forth.
______________
THE LIBERTINE
The walks around the block,
And the spring water,
And the cigarettes--
Haven’t done a thing,
But make me upset.
The doctors have always presumed--
That I wanted my life this way,
So of course to them I do it all,
To bring myself pain;
The doctors always presume much.
For I did nothing wrong,
And the Devil made me richer,
For a soul that according to them--
Was dying for a change;
Well I changed it for them,
And now I make it worthwhile,
Singing in dark places,
Of wine and libertines,
And of all the things,
That meant something to me.
______________
THE DOLL(FACE)
The window isn’t as bleak,
As when you looked at me through it.
You never knew you looked at me,
The glass was enough for you.
Selfish at your best,
God picked you for the role--
The lovely eyes compliment,
The frown you’ve been wearing lately--
Did that come in the mail?--
Or with the pills on the bar?--
But of course you look your best,
All whores do.
I’ll buy you for the looks,
And kiss you for the smile--
That smile might make my lips pucker,
And my soul shrivel in it’s tomb.
I’ll keep you on a shelf--
A shelf of your very own,
And maybe you’ll come to love it--
And when you age enough,
We might buy you a nice bell jar.
And see if you like being smothered--
I know you like smothering me.
I play the envy game,
I play the envy game with lust.
But just enough to attract attention--
Oh yes, you’ve noticed.
Oh Dollface, Dollface you--
Pack your bags Dorothy,
This isn’t Kansas anymore.
______________
STILL SILENT IS THE DOORBELL
Still silent is the doorbell,
As I have yet to hear from you--
You are far off from me, and I suppose--
That you won’t return for years,
Drifting in and out again--as you seek to please yourself--
Can’t you ever settle down,
Before you get the urge to move?--
Still silent are the wind chimes,
As the breeze of change has yet to blow,
And when it does, I suppose--
Older things will collapse in the years to come--
But stand here I will and watch for you,
Your lean figure outlined in the dusk,
Walking ever closer to me, then trotting away again--
But then again im not sure you can linger,
And that you will continue to drift---
Still silent is the doorbell,
As I have yet to turn it on.
I’ll have finished waiting for you--
The next time I see you coming
Along, then will I still hear--
Nothing.
______________
THE MAN WHO CAME TWICE
The door behind the house,
Has no lock as it is worthless--
And leads to nothing but a closet--
The paints been peeling for years,
And no ones’ really cared enough--
Or they would have done something by now.
With string and nails on the floor,
And a bird’s nest in the corner--
You would think that no one--
Had cleaned it, or just re-arranged.
A mattress keeps still on the right,
And linen dirty with smoke and soil hangs over.
Were it anyone other than you lived there,
The sun would have shun them for their filth--
But for some reason it enlightens you,
And lets it’s solid cold whisper--
Drift down to meet your ear--
And gossips with you-you bastard--
Were you a king or a queen--
I would have made for you--by me--
A crown of teeth and wire,
To go with your royal attire--
It’s better that you’re an urchin.
So I have no qualms mocking you--
Standing at the mirror,
Trying my best to pose like you--
And sometimes I really do.
Or sitting at the table,
Dreaming that I am you--
And live like you do.
You came once to me in friendship--
And another yet as my enemy,
I gave you my attention--bot
And listened--but you didn’t strike me as well.
You came today in the morning,
Will you come tonight as well?--
______________
THE ROOM IN MY SOUL
I went to the Room in my Soul,
That all have known since my birth--
And noticed all that all the things,
That had known my fervor before:
Knew me as a lover no more,
And cast me out the door--
Is was then the Justice of my Heart,
Wrote a letter of mild amity-
And suggested that I depart--
And place the key of my adulation,
In her breast for safekeeping--
Till she knew me as her own once more,
I knew not what else to do,
And gave the lady all I could.
But then again that was not enough:
And my love rotted and crumpled,
And blew away in the wind, and thus;
I know the comforts of love no more.
______________
DREAM DOLL
In the hands of God I am a blasphemous creature—
Wrapped in my lungs is the breath of many a false prophet—
I am only the necessity—the guardian of your dreams—
With my protection you know the scent of no demon—
I have been the prince of your serenity,
I am the pitied bastard you ride to death—
As your slave—I stand ready above all of them—my brethren—
Tossed through the jagged ranks of nightmarish sorceries—
Biting at the flesh—clawing at the flanks of the beast,
Come to me and watch as I go to war with limbo—
Astrid a pale seraphim I meet the enemy of your sleep,
The subconscious mind meets its opponent—mysel
In reality I am a troubled wretch of black and white,
In reality no mark or bruise shows itself on my temple—
I am beaten and bruised only inside—sadisti
And as I watch you sleep beside me peacefully,
I wish I could be you—and you be me—
So that you could salvage my dreams from madness—eterna
______________
HOME OF THE HOLY
What happened to the home built on the rock?--
I thought that things of the holy,
Were supposed to last eternity--
So that the children are sent to play--
Around the lakes twice in the day,
What happened to the pious that built the homestead?--
I thought that God would always provide for them,
Aren’t things of the holy--supposed to last eternity?--
But even gold melts under the flame,
And the sun must limp away tired--
I saw that home built on the rock--
I drank wine as it lit up the evening sky,
The bonfire kissed the clouds as I kissed my glass,
And of that godly retreat they built on the rock,
There is nothing left but a spoon to sift the ashes--
______________
IRONY ON SUNDAY
Ive been in that sterile cellar,
That they call a chapel—
Every day the bell rings noon for the Sabbath—
And I waltz like a dazed crow to the belfry—
So I can ring the bell out of the,
Possession of the adrenaline—
I see another dear friend,
As he examines the corpse of some new martyr—
—some holy bum that’s hung himself from the rafters—
I watch like a pious vulture as he runs in a small circle,
I can hear his voice screaming—
“Ring, ring, can’t you ring it any louder!?”—
And then the mass begins—I of course sit in the front row,
Just for the view of the stained windows—
The only thing I can find strange—the mounted insignia,
—the cross above the pastor—
The metal corpse of my savior seems to be smiling—
As if he had in this room found some irony—
______________
LORD LADYKILLER
See that picture?—
Of my last woman on the dresser?—
As you lay there on my bed, can’t you see her face just perfectly?—
She was so good to me, and it’s so hard to remember—
Why I had to kill her—you see this started before she came—
The one before her—
Was a cold blooded witch—
That pond out back is where I drowned her in winter—
She struggled a few moments,
Then let herself drift under—
Then I found my new beauty—
A girl of tan skin and dark hair—my goddess,
But of course as with the others,
She tried to own me—to make herself my Queen—
And I just couldn’t have abided that—
So I struck the match and burned her—
I swear the flames danced for hours,
She screamed something dreadful, I was forced to cover my ears—
But then it was all over, she had charred and peeled,
Poor thing, I did love her so—and she was so good to me—
I had to even scatter her ashes,
I could not have her play a phoenix—
Rise from the remains as if she were Lady Lazarus,
What a sight that would make,
Bones covered with burnt sinewy—
See that picture?—
Of my last woman on my dresser?—
As you lay there on my bed, can’t you just see her eyes perfectly?—
She was so good to me, and I think of her often still—
You see I had to kill her, before she could know me truly—
______________
MANIA IN THE MORNING
I drank the rainwater from the pails,
I collected the stones and threw them at priests--
I can’t seem to remember why you prescribed this to me.
I saw one face in another--one gender among the sexes,
I couldn’t cure it, but I really did try;
I prayed to God, he didn’t hear it--
I kissed the women, I kissed the men--
I kissed the mirror, I kissed your hand.
It’s like a game played against myself,
I’ll never win, or you’ll find out--
Free the pigeons--free them--free---
Drown the baby and throw the windows open.
Crawl like a beast--and worship me,
You’ve done it before--this time do it for me.
All--in the mania, of the morning.
______________
ORACLE OF THE RIVER
Come brother, come sister,
Come sinner, come saint,
Come Messiah, come Savior--
Drink the water,
Taste the wine, feel the flesh--
Tread the water, swim the currents--
Dive to the bottom,
Meditate on the riverbed,
Find the aquifers, find their sources--
Wonder if you are what you said today,
Come drunk, come glutton,
Come wise, come emptied,
Come to the Oracle of the river--
Smooth your hair,
Hold eyes with God or Jesus--
Dance if you must,
But only dance in a daze--
Breathe the fumes and drink to eternity--
But drink till you collapse or are ready to stay.
Come prophet or feeble fortune teller.
Come let your tongue roll over your mouth,
And suck from the holy wound.
You didn’t say when you’d be back,
So I left them all to rot--for you.
______________
PHONE CALL TO GOD
1
I could’ve waited for your call.
But instead I rung your number,
Zero for the operator,
And number ONE for God--
I sat on the windowsill,
And watched the spiders play--
Whiskey and Tea don’t mix,
And neither do religion and depression,
Of course you didn’t answer,
I am sure I was not the only one--
Dialing ONE for God,
Knowing he could have waited his turn.
But always the bore, but of course--
You left me with my head down by the phone,
And my hand deep in my hair,
Playing with a heart shaped earring.
Spinning the heart with my fingers,
And wishing it were yours--
So that I could play with your love,
The way you play with my faith.
Pray, pray, pray and hope you might hear me--
Why don’t you pray to me?--
I think Id’ be a better deity,
Than you could make a poet--
2
Good God, Good God, Good God,
Why not good Man?--or ‘good Ethan’?--
I think it sounds much better,
Jehovah, Ethan, my, my, who could tell?--
I sometimes wish you were human,
So I could meet you honestly,
And see your body as you see mine,
Fragile, flesh, bone and muscle.
Why don’t you ever respond,
To the letters ive mailed to you?--
They all say, “read me someday”,
And “with love and loathing to you”
You don’t have to live,
Wondering ‘will my god send me to hell’.
How selfish you are sometimes,
Maybe you should take a trip there.
There is no room in hell for me,
There is no room in hell for you.
Why not give me your mighty hand,
And see how I use it?--
You wear no rings,
Because if you did I would see the marks--
--on my face from the many times you’ve
slapped me.
3
If killing myself really helped,
I would have done it long ago--
I think you would have too--
But then again--
You’re immortal.
And I would rather live, And look up to you--
And say for all to hear--
How much better I could be--
If I were God for a day.
______________
THE BAUBLE
1
I went down deeper--furthe
Down through the tunnels of Bethlehem,
Digging I found a jewel, blood crusted--
Greek amphitheater in your ear,
Aging for like a foreign wine for countless years--
Shall I sell it to found a new currency--
To pass around the gulch,
From hand to hand like a worthless bauble stolen--
--From a prince?--
Will we laugh about your troubles?--
Or launch you in a rocket to the nearest star,
Or into the furthest ocean--
You always said you hated the gaudy--
--look of fear on every face you saw in wartime.
So it’s a surprise when you say--
That you felt anguish for the first time today.
Your ribs have slimmed to narrow shoots,
Almost to resemble the jaws of a great fish--
Your hands have shrunk like dried flowers,
And your hair is greasy with the slime--
--peeled off the rocks near the spring.
You resemble a heathen of the oldest textbook--
But you scream like an animal--
--caught in the trap of wisdom.
2
If I sought to corrupt you,
Would I be looked down upon--
For changing your natural disposition?--
I can’t be the healer--and the Maker as well.
The natives themselves look down on you--
Pale limbed creature mounting the cliffs at night,
Chewing your nails to stop their growth
And wishing you were not the idle--
--heretic--
Diving off the mountains only to--
--survive.
What you will face in the cold--
--green mist of morning.
______________
THE FILES
I heard the flies talking,
In a spiders web--
Screaming names and places,
That have long since disappeared.
They must have known that I was listening,
Because they told me they knew more--
Than I could ever hope to know,
In the space of a single lifetime--
And that they learned it in a day.
The flies they kept chanting,
A song like a name,
They could have kept on all day--
But I had to ask for curiosity’s sake,
What they meant when they said-
--“Satan”
They said that he’d been by--
And offered to help them out of the spiders web,
That he helped spin.
They said “hear me Lucifer--
-and leave us alone”.
“--We sold ourselves to some god--
--we saw hanging on the wall in a church”.
“And when we die we’re going to--
--check into our investment”.
I walked away from the flies,
And went to the park--
And on the swing I saw a man--
In a red suit, smoking a cigar--
He offered me a light, but I said ‘no’.
I held my lungs dear to me,
And he held his to the curb.
We sat at the swings,
And didn’t speak--
But watched the cars go by.
When he got up to go,
I asked him for his name.
He turned around and looked at me,
And gave me a card instead--
Then we walked down the road,
And off into the woods.
I looked at the card in my hand--
And saw it was blank.
I had been talking to--
Nothing more,
Than a man with no name--
______________
THE HANGING TREE
Stain the linen, bury the Bible--
Hang the sheets out in the rain,
Put out the cigarettes in your hand--
And spit the ashes on the ground--
Walk out unto the rooftops,
And scream your sins--
Maybe just then, God will listen--
And take note of what you’ve said.
Go out unto the streets,
And spread the words of mania--
Walk nude into the churches,
And confess your lust to the priests,
Dye all the wedding gowns,
To a dreary shade of brown--
Let your hair grow long,
And braid it in knots on your head,
Starve yourself if it helps,
Just to give you something real,
To picture late a night,
Just before you go to sleep--
Close all the curtains,
And lay awake in the dark--
And go out and do these things,
But only if you have a rope, and a noose--
To hang your demons by their ankles,
And let your hatred for them show,
So that they leave you alone,
The next time you tell them so.
And look them in the eye--
So that they can’t look away,
From the gaze that let’s them know--
You don’t play games anymore.
______________
GOD IN A PHOTOGRAPH
I feel like a God in a photograph—
Some laminated canvas stretched about me,
I never seem to change in my perfection—
But then again that is my blessing—
But then again that is the thing I loathe—
I have become this black and white idol,
Crowded around by a screaming cult of people—
They pray to me but of course I can’t answer,
I listen but strive to correct them—
I have enough problems of my own—without theirs added—
I have become some silver gelatin trophy—
That some fanatic hypocritical priest parades in front of,
I see the tearing eyes of my faithful wretches—
They wrinkle and cry and hope for forgiveness—
When I am the force that inspired them to sin—
______________
PRAYER TO THE OMEGA
If I am to be reincarnated—O
Please—bring me back as a flower,
So that I may bend with the wind—
So that I might be picked by some woman—
Who loves herself like I love her.
Omega—I dreamed I was instead the father—
Dancing amongst the trunks of the trees—
Pouring my soul in songs of the Libertine,
I was in some scene of erotic madness,
Omega—God of Abraham—
Ive never really believed in you—
But trust me—I have always admired you—
I have always believed in the ideals you preach,
You are some stroke of white in the cosmos—
--If only glimpsed for a moment.
If you do see me as your child—
Please Omega—bring me back as a flower—
So that I may die in the purity of the winter—
And rise again in the sensual spring of March—
And maybe live this time a martyr.
______________
THE BEE
An epitome of me, in the last time I am free,
Gratis of what I have been--
A drone chained to the Hive--
Hive of liars and gluttons alike,
The Hive always overran with the nectar of guilt--
I am sure it was not the promised land--
Depression plagued the soul,
And I found myself knee deep,
In a delta of honey and constant worry--
I waded to the river’s mouth--
And found my misery again--
The flares of the sun lit the puddles,
And I knew it sneered at me,
For what else can a giant do--
But look down on the peons at it’s feet?--
I know that only a giant could look around,
And not show sympathy for the pitiful masses,
Writhing in swarms in the air around it--
An epitome of me, in the moments before the end,
Me, some living petroglyph of yellow and black--
I have stopped harvesting the fertility of the virgin stalks,
And have looked to the sun too many times to see--
--if it really looked down upon me.
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THE GRAY, RED HYSTERIA
An allusion of grey and red--
And yellow and blue,
And I wonder if the sand,
Is the same sand to you
I wonder if the soil,
Can take another dredging--
If an island isn’t refuge,
Then Im not sure where to send you
Off again, off again, war, war, war--
Screams, shouts, gunfire,
Static on the screens--
And I wonder if you’re dead.
Phone calls, faxes, spoken word,
And pages all from the same book--
If I really believed I was a citizen of some country,
I would give up my humanity
But there’s not much humanity left.
Shocking, shock, shocked--
Do you think you’re a soldier now?--
Or a martyr for some silly god.
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THE HOURS
“Get back on the path”
But we all have to die.
“Get back on the road”
But we all have to die--
“Get back in the house”
But we all have to die.
“Stain the linen, stain the ground”
But we all have to die.
“Dig the hole, dig it deeper”
Because we all have to die?--
“Dig the hole, dig it faster”
But why dig it deep?
“So it won’t be shallow”
Then why dig at all?--
“Because we all have to die--
--once the Hours have passed by”
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THE TITANS
I see a line of crusading figures cross my palm,
They call me “Savior” but are mistaken,
Ive just been a leading figure--
Mislead I am sure they still sing to me,
Ive always thought the End would be different--
As it has been as was told by the seasons--
As it was told by the sky--
I have always thought of God as an Idol,
Some sacred relic left to age alone, pious in the cosmos--
One which I could burn before--
One before which I could turn, and lust,
But it turned out my God spoke instead of listening--
And told me how I lived was wrong,
And told me he knew the right way to exist--
But eternity under the thumb of some Deity--
Just doesn’t appeal to me,
Ive always thought that I was free,
When in fact I was a slave--
Leather bound, iron clad promise,
If it takes this to get to his Heaven--
He can count me among the free in Hell--
The stones have long been watching me,
And I am sure that they can think--
We may walk over them, by them--
But still they wait for their chance,
I am sure they will be the meek,
And inherit the earth--
As they have never been the Titan’s--
The Titan’s of the Earth, Air and Sea,
The stones have never been as I am--
A King amongst the unworthy, the obscene--
If they had been as I was,
Things would have not been the same--
And I am sure things would have been happier,
But I am sure they would have been ignorant--
Ive always thought The End would be different--
But it seems that all of Time will close it’s doors,
And leave us all with the mark of the decided--
And as the world is purged of the sinful--
I am not as sure that I have mattered,
I may have been one of the Titan’s,
But I am not among the meek--
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THE WANDERER
Ive always been staring at that point in the distance,
Someday I’ll get there, I may just leave today--
And when I get there I’ll say,
“My what a wandering”--
And when I get back,
Whenever that might be--
I’ll tell you all about it,
And pretend it was really me.
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TO WALK IN THE HOLY WOOD
I heard the trumpets today--
And knew you were on your way.
Some idiot broke the seventh seal--
While cleaning the stairs again,
I was just on my way--
Home from the bar,
When I caught a cab to Nowhere,
And couldn’t come back for days--
I woke up on my bed,
With a cork in my mouth--
And a pen in my hands,
When I went into the streets--
I saw a light, and “it was good”--
I felt the earth, and “it was clean”--
I heard the wind, and “it was shamed”--
I walked into the Holy Wood,
And could hear no bird or beast--
And was weighed down by despair--
All the things I thought I hated,
Were really the things I loved--
I knew it was the end.
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WHEN I GOT TO HEAVEN
I traded life for death,
And took off on a whim--
To see the pearl-white gates,
And gold glittering streets,
Promised by all the many cults,
And all the many religions --
But when I arrived,
The pearly texture was nothing more,
Than a faded ‘had been’ shimmer--
The gold had been dug up,
And traded to bring back--
Lost loves and traditions.
So that when I came forth,
Unto this promised heaven--
I sighed for all the years,
Spent waiting on an oath,
And cried for the time--
I traded for an empty eternity.
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