I will always be curious
and allergic to cats.
Ain’t that a kick in the head!
Home » Posts tagged 'night' (Page 7)
Tag Archives: night
Talking by her car
Talking by her car — that night
our intuition brought us together —
I never wanted to leave.
Her guiding light
What I cannot see
in the dark of night
within myself
is another’s plight,
she finds me there
her guiding light
my luminance
in the dark of night.
Dancing in the distance
And when his memory faded
Dancing in the distance
Like a mirage, appeared
His destiny in heat
Arms uninhibited by the equinox
beautiful woes
At the end of the night
when the poet laid down
he didn’t fear death, knowing
what beautiful woes
the morning had coming round.
My Goldfinch in flight
Chainlink memory
In the dream state of night
Unshackled reality
Through a window of light
Which pours like rain
And puddles my sight
Until ripples reflect
My Goldfinch in flight
My fragile mind
It’s hard sometimes to go outside
So I wear this hat, it makes me feel cool
It’s hard sometimes to pass the time
So I write these prose inside my fragile mind
No they’re not for you
No they’re not for you
No they’re not for you
They’re for me
Like an eggshell cracks so do I
What spills out is just membrane and time
I know we’re all the same, you and I
This was just another from my fragile mind
No they’re not for you
No they’re not for you
No they’re not for you
They’re for me
Norwegian wood aglow
Actually I am, as
Real as they come
I see us in Alaska
Enchanted we are one, so
Love me lovely star seed
My hand is yours to hold
Among the valleys
Northern lights
Norwegian wood aglow
Through the air vents of my room
I’ve known a many artist in my day, say
Today old friend you come to mind
And how for a short time, your voice divine
Scratchy and old, though, you and I know
Age is just a number and it’s you who’d show
Me this: Dear, Gavin Heron Vante
Who needed a place to rest his weary head
For the night I offered you some bread
Where that night you had said, Ah man!
I haven’t seen this show in years, mind if I watch
Married with Children, Amen! Amen!
Then later I’d record you playing all the chords
I always had wish I could, watching your fingers
Slide and swoop through Sloop John B
I tried to sing harmonies but who was I kidding
Aloof in my eagerness to know everything and all
You had to offer and more, more, more I cried
Singing, drinking in the night like two old friends
Because we were in fact just two ageless nobodies
In the effortless night of somebodies
Giving me your time, cradling my wine
Looking through old photo’s now
I can still feel your spirit sing softly through
The air vents of my room
The next morning of course, saying farewell
Dropping you at Austin’s Coffee
Collecting your bicycle and taking the trash out for a buck
Needing my fix of early morning talkie
That I’m sure no one ever really gave a hoot about —
Now I hear you’re out of the Coma
That took you too soon like a phantom in the night
You were right when you told me
To take it easy man, oh man, Gavin Heron Van
Where there is no plan there in lies the plan
I now know the meaning of that age old saying
Those were the days, good sir, I give my praise
Sincerely,
Dave
P.S. There’s a place for you here, always
Manhattan’s in the Village
You know what they say, don’t yuh?
Can’t live with em, can’t live without em
But don’t get me twisted, I’m not talking about women
though the skin beneath my tongue’s still sore
my heart’s still heavy and well
there’s nothing quite like seeing her smile come morning
but anyway like I was saying to this jug of doom
in the evening gloom where I choose not one but two
and then two more to boot because, well, hell
who am I kidding? Nobody but the moon this evening
cause it’s this bitter sweet feeling
the kind you feel deep down in the rumbling, stumbling night
where it all gets so far gone, where nothing meaningful is born
where it all makes some sort of convoluted sense
and alas, once again I am but the floorboards dull creak
where I am like the riverbed flowing calmly and discrete
where life is but a dream and I am dreaming once again
of you dear friend, rustling like the leaves at my front door.
Oh dear friend, how I long to walk the beach again.
How I long to hear your sick, silly, sweet voice again
like those long ago up all Friday nights of old
all those Brooklyn winter blue’s and yellow streetlights
guiding us home, or at least to Crown Fried Chicken where
like two youthful bums we’d scavenge our pockets for change
enough to buy a couple chicken wings, coke, and pint
enough to settle the bone, cold, sidewalk snow till home
where we’d fall arm and arm up stairs
to that old wood, smoke filled, railroad apartment you’d call Grove.
And though I don’t often pray, in my own little way
I do for you now as I did then, driving back to my Long Island apartment.
I pray this little song of self, this little song of you, this small token of my appreciation
for your boundless soul and effortless style and class.
I ate too much cheese, I’d shout while holding a kitchen knife to my throat!
Where in a Polaroid our youth is kept,
where so many nights while you slept I wept,
where you’d give me your bed for a smile,
where I’d talk with Forest about everything and nothing for a while,
long enough not to feel alone in that maddening, crazy New York glow.
So I write this little poem, not enough but enough to show you
I’m still listening through the terror behind the walls.
Dear friend,
How are you?
I can’t live with you, but hell, I can’t live without you.
Manhattan’s in the Village
God knows we never had the scratch, aligned
I feel inclined to take this time and offer you my best
impression not impressed?
CALL ME SPIDER! CALL ME SPIDER!
I just had to get these salami’s off my back.
I just had to sing this short praise of you Mac.
Words Of An Average White Male 