metaphor mashup

more crap from the western world
inviting disinterest confusing one
version of the heart for another

and all that rowing against the current
all that flapping the wings so passionate
in my error the landing gears not
properly engaged the anchor poking a hole
in the bottom of the scull

there was a picture of sid & nancy
on the web and I was so surprised how
beautiful she was, they were

loss happens without regard to justice
but truth is still the reason for the ride
wherever the wind takes us

never more than a draft

well its your birthday today
not that I'm on your list anymore
you're just another moment
in the distance now a voice
in my head telling me nothing
your picture is lost in the scrap
book of the internet its dis-
appeared you don't remember me
you don't think of me you
have another life and I am
just a relic of an old mistake

so are you the Lady in my dreams?
the blonde goddess I pray to?
were we supposed to bring someone
into this world? is it all some
game which I have once again
fucked up?

this will never be more than a draft
of an understanding that you would simply
deny and at the end of my breathing
your loss will be just the tattoo
played over my grave

in the charmed narrative

in the charmed narrative:
the blondes become action figures
the robot chicks are japanese
my days accumulate their longing
and I see you different than you once
were in the shadows of my memory

can you find the melody I am listening for?
the screen flickers with someone else's
movie but I am keeping track anyway
all facebooked and blogged in
ill repute the celebrities skin
taut from overuse or ill use or
no use at all just constant
recognition of that place between
each individuated organism call it
human for the sake of argument

it's an attempt
to not lose contact but the contact
is broken the bridge has been
flagged already as unsafe in each of her
or your reactions is that reaching
for the brake tap tap as days
hours weeks seconds chambering along
asking for their own page in the
great book the ink still wet
her page and your's and mine, even
all offsetting onto each other
no version of this life is more than
ragged memories edited by desire
and more importantly fear
fear telling us what we want
what happened when we were near
when you held my hand
that day at a basketball game
we were perhaps fifteen

if there were really magic
this would be a charmed narrative
in the mind's theatre I would
reach for your fingers and
feel the back of your hand
and you would feel
whatever you felt that day

this isn't desire then
so it must be fear
that time has learned is the
protaganist of all our lives
strange to confront this
so near the horizon
you'd a thought I'd have better
defenses see the hours soak
the winding sheet
see the wooden box burning
in the long dark night

looking for the horizon

spilling the disaster
across the years you once
called my number when
you needed my memory and
now my daughter does that
now and again plucking
the data from a life once
disfigured by my own self
pity still I have to wonder
where you are tonight in
asia or down the american
south your mother in atlanta
your lover in the magic
kingdom and I am here
listening to that last
message thick with inter-
ference on the answering
machine I called you back
and left my own digression
words felt useless now the
years gathering the remains
of my health and destroying
the dreams of security this
lands ability to come back
from its essential tragedy

so I listened to Frost
on the car stereo yesterday
& I thought about you again
somewhere in the universe
cracking wise helping
someone find the way

did I ever know the way
smoke rests on the fortress
hill the wooden stockade
charred broken a dream
breathing less and less
the horizon closer
now