One man’s true story of being kind of punchy.
Once upon a midnight sleazy
I returned from the Big Easy
Dang, that rhyme just made me queasy
I won’t do it anymore
I’m so tired I make no sense
I’ve running on fumes and incense
And I’m dropping any pretense
I know what this poem’s for
Screw this, I’m going to bed
… the age-old question of platonic male-female friendships.
What makes a man think
Because he is friends with a woman
She should want to sleep with him?
Friend zone, indeed!
But what makes a woman think
Because she doesn’t want to sleep with a man
And he wants to sleep with her
That he shouldn’t feel hurt by that?
It’s a life kind of thing.
Alone at a party
She decided she wanted to play a character
Someone to replace the drab her
She had been seeing at home in the mirror
So, armed with the magic elixir of Ancient Age,
She burned away her real personality
And while she made no wise choices that night,
She has no regrets, either
For freedom rings, passion blazes,
Youth must live, and mistakes
Have to be experienced
She called me the next morning…
She called me the next morning
Wanting to know
Why I hadn’t called her
I told her
Because I’m still in bed
And was asleep until you called
You should be thinking about me
And want to talk to me
After what happened last night
Well, I wasn’t.
Maybe we do need to talk again,
Given how you’re acting right now,
I don’t think I want to be there
For the conversation
About a year after my father passed away.
She looked at me, concerned, but
With a weariness of heart;
Then spoke these words,
Made sacred in her age:
“Life is for the living, son
The dead have played their part;
The play goes on
Although some leave the stage”
Life, individuality and love.
Rhythm may be life
And melody may be individuality
These things happen to me more and more lately.
I see sometimes these fleeting scenes from
Dreams I never get to have
Constructed out of broken bits of
Of things I just half-saw
And watch these trailers as they run on
Into others, seamlessly;
Bright patches colored out of mist
In visions light, both rich and raw