Twisting mel0dies

Flirting through the willow trees.

Those sounds don’t ever leave me be. 

They fall and they fly and they

Come at the break of dawn

Every day.

Sometimes I think that I am mad.

But wouldn’t I think that I was the only sane one?

Wouldn’t I be the doctor in this psych ward of a world?

Tell me that.

Answer me from your high horse.

Are you the melodies?

Are you the trees? 

Cascade over ridges and under

Bridges of all sorts of sizes.

Pour your blue out into view

And finally into the sea.

Make West into East and test

Your compass mind

For cracks and magnetic fields of up-down out-in yes-no head shakes. 

And finger quakes, easy mistakes 

Over concerned with yesterday. 

Red cross came with good intentions,

But carried on its back a bleak black shadow.

You saw it wavering on the edge of hell,

Because you were standing there as well.

Midnight came, chimed in grandfather’s head,

When the angels came and stripped you from your bed.

You toed the line with empty intent,

And saw where all your deeds had sent

You to.

Principle is lost inside of practice.

Like characters who regret holding money,

And drop it like hot coals down into the beggars cups.

I do not need coal, only warmth from aged drinks.

I do not seek joy from anything.

If you can spare the time…

–

Time forgot to check itself, and now is late to space’s cocktail mixer.

Shake hands with Saturn,

For he was a father once

Regardless of how his children saw him.

–

Lucy does despise him,

But why come back to a hate so tightly wound

If not because it is rooted in broken fervor,

And the fever never broke,

Due to fortification through empty generic drugstore pill bottles.

But Saturn cancelled her insurance plan,

And laughed as she lost her poker hand.

So she left the table alone with a heart and spade to bury it with.

For the King had won one round and she found a particularly dreary hole needing to be dug.

–

Judas?

Are you there?

I left the coffee on with horrible intentions.

I’m sorry.

——————-Elliott and Tom

Part 6.

So these two men found what they needed.

Both at one’s top and one’s farthest south.

At the end of the road, Gunther pleaded.

At the top of the world, the simple man, over gentle winds, would shout.

–

But both discussions fell upon unwilling ears.

Beauty does not answer to mortal men.

And her silence fueled the licking flames of pre-inferno fears,

But struck by her presence and her eyes filled with stars, they merely listen.

–

To the will-o-wisps of how far they’ve come. 

Sunlight broke, and the trees fell from view,

As I lifted my feet up and over the verdant ridge.

Left then right, I felt the altitude around my ears.

The pressure left my mind and middle Tennessee was a painting.

–

Surrounded on all side,

And a mind vacant of life’s lows and highs.

I was a pure river stream.

I am a master of steel and steam.

Like my fathers before me.

–

The scholars scoffed and raised their glasses,

Perusing my actions like characters from their classes,

Drank me in, turned me over,

And gave every step a deeper meaning,

But I hiked still higher.

–

Part 5.

And still that simple man went

From shop to ship to spend

Time and money he already spent

And followed down the scent of wind

–

“Hello” he gasped at the precipice,

The mountaintop he forgot he was climbing.

“How do you do, my dear miss?”

And if she was not the fairest flower at the peak, he would be simply lying.

Part 4.

Once the tracks came to an end,

Gunthor was as south as you can go.

The workers quarreled about the last ten

Tracks they had to lay with no land left to show.

–

A contract is a silly thing

When no one bothers to check their measure,

And start working before they think,

But Gunthor found a girl and said to her

–

“Is there no land more south than this?

I must find a warmer climate.”

The girl fixed her eyes with a curious wish,

For she did not speak the language of the vocal chords Gunthor hit.

Part 3.

Awakening from his dreams,

Gunthor walked until he could walk no longer.

He thought of all those things

She mentioned that he longed for.

So Gunthor sauntered solemnly

Upon the railroad tracks south,

Mentally prepared to pollen-leave,

To float on winds to a new red brick house.

And his only friend woke up at morn,

Thinking of everything but his southbound man,

Made breakfast followed by mother’s scorn,

And left for work to toil with monotonous hands.

Welcome me,

   Would you please

To this nocturnal poly amorous night brigade

Of lovers and fighters and flee-ers and

All-nighters.