Black glove at my neck- the end of the year. Those lovers were soldiers, bed spies, bombs of leg losing, the mind dropping in one blow.
Masters of bullets, sacred sabotage, reasons why I listened to the radio blaring the sweet song of someone else's bad news.
Voices of valleys in the distance, sinking at the notice of runaway trains, the apocalypse-what little we know of it, the quiet contemplation of last night's champagne.
I search for any light in the flickering distance, as the sound of the unknown approaches.
Well, son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. It's had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor- Bare. But all the time I'se been a-climbin' on, And reachin' landin's, And turnin' corners, And sometimes goin' in the dark Where there ain't been no light. So, boy, don't you turn back. Don't you set down on the steps. 'Cause you finds it's kinder hard. Don't you fall now- For I'se still goin', honey, I'se still climbin',
Some folks fool themselves into believing, But I know what I know once, at the height Of hopeless touching, my man and I hold Our breaths, certain we can stop time or maybe Eliminate it from our lives, which are shorter Since we learned to make love for each other Rather than doing it to each other. As for praise And worship, I prefer the latter. Only memory Makes us kneel, silent and still. Hear me? Thunder scares. Lightning lets us see. Then, Heads covered, we wait for rain. Dear Lord, Let me watch for his arrival and hang my head And shake it like a man who's lost and lived. Something keeps trying, but I'm not killed yet
On Saturday, I sleep in late; the sandman sets a silver-plate to lie around and contemplate and let my 'soles' somnambulate. Unloading heaps of heavy freight supports me to fly featherweight and putz around, remodulate, I clean erase the scorecard slate. As restful day, the seventh date a holy way to consecrate, my person brews, then percolates, the sabbath pours a cup.... and waits
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