3 a.m. on a Sunday
and I'm tradin' sleep for a poem
thinking 'bout all the folks
who will don their Sunday finery
to hang out in a pew
with you and you and you
and you
still don't get it
that your soul is immortal
and not in need of savin'
but sure
I get it
it's a sense of comm
unity
we gather together to ask
the Lord's blessing
and even though I may be fallin' apart
in my decrepitude
I'm good to go with all of that
don't feel the need
cuz a coupla peeps singing loudly off key
on either side of me
isn't exactly what I call "inspirational"
having said all that
I'll admit I've prayed before
but it's always been
a white-knuckled
get me out of this freakin' jam
kinda thing
and by god
somehow...
somehow...
so let me say that if you don't feel
a connection
with something larger than
your own ego
whatever you wanna call it
then I have to wonder about ya
as in how did you miss it?
(ah--your head was buried in your phone!)
goddamn
my pen is running out of ink
so I guess I'll close for now
but it's been nice chatting with you
and if you don't mind
I'd rather not ruin my rep
as heathen in good standing
so let's just keep all this stuff
between you and me
God bless
Sometimes
something is there
waiting for you
you don't know what it is
you have to see it
touch it
smell it
you have to find out
what it is
and what it's going to do
to you
or for you
you won't know that until you
see it
touch it
smell it
and even then you will likely
have only a clue
you have to
play with it
let it touch you back
gah damn
what is it?
how did I find it?
you didn't
it was just there
waiting for you
though you may have walked
by it a thousand times before
head buried in your phone
(read butt)
never realizing it was for you
just for you
or that this thing
you don't know what to make of
if you caress it
and nurture it
and let it grow
might just be able to show
you the way
to a new beginning
Easy come
easy go
I've watched the parade
march in and out my door
the flute players
and the drummers
the only thing they share
in common
is their transience
while I play the silent monolith
stoic
with eyes that must
not water
I see the couples
when I'm out and about
so many of them look
mismatched to me
but at least they've got something
(a roll of fat maybe)
to hang onto through the night
been in that comfortable rut
before
and a comfortable rut
is still a rut
with
ironically
less and less rutting
taking place
as time goes by
does it matter
which life you choose
when there's no way to win?
but
the one thing I've learned
and maybe I'm "lucky"
in that respect
is that pain
is the only way
to feel truly alive
