Messes of Men

"I do not exist," we faithfully insist,
Sailing in our separate ships and from each tiny caravel.
Tiring of trying, there's a necessary dying,
Like the horseshoe crab in its proper season sheds its shell.
Such distance from our friends,
Like a scratch across the lens,
Made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood.
And our paper blew away before we'd left the bay.
So half-blind, we wrote these songs on sheets of salty wood.

Caught me making eyes at the other boatman's wives,
And heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughters.
I'd set my course for land, but you well understand,
It takes a steady hand to navigate adulterous waters.
The propeller's spinning blades held acquaintance with the waves,
As there's mistakes I've made no rowing could outrun.
The cloth low on the mast, I say I got no past,
I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son.

The tarnish on my brass, the mildew on my glass-
I'd never want someone so crass as to want someone like me
But a few leagues off the shore, I bit a flashing lure,
And I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be!
I still tastes its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel.
To an anchor ever dropped, sea-sick yet still docked,
Captain spotted napping with his first mate at the wheel.

Floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong,
We keep our confessions long, but when we pray we keep it short.
I drank a thimble full of fire,
I'm not ever coming back...
Oh, my G-d.

"I do not exist," we faithfully insist,
While watching sink the heavy ship of everything we knew.
And if ever you come near, I'll hold up high a mirror.
Lord, I could never show you anything as beautiful as you!

-Aaron Weiss

A Story About survival in the West

out of the depths of shallow lakes
come the sea trolls
planning their evil belligerent parades
coming to take, take, take and take
The watchmen are strong, and prepared to fight
They rise tall and get out of comforts way.
The burning, the killing
The stealing is not over,
Its just begun.
But as long as we are here,
We’ll fight until what’s ours is safe.
chasing our curious hearts
we found the farewell letters
“im sorry we’ve left, our time has come
hold on strong and fight to protect”
sincerely, watchmen
p.s.” the finishers who came in first
were afraid but stood up strong for themselves”

We’re here but walking dead
dying in our conscious efforts
to avoid pain and stay alive.
In our fighting the years progress
And others are dying
We’ve paid no mind
because we have too much at stake

We will be safe
But the world wont change
Because world changers
have nothing to lose
and have already lost their lives
But we don't mind,
we'd rather survive
than become fully alive

An Excerpt From the Journal of Tearless Funerals

Entry 129

Jan 28 1917
Harley Madison:

Harley Madison:
Here lies Harley
Found hanging on a noose
They say he was a burden to his friends and family
and exchanged no self-sacrifice
Like parasite and host.

another passing leaf
Blowing down the road
Like the next
As time unfolds
And moss piles to stone.

May your life be better than his
may you decide to die
and become fully alive

They say life is 7 days
Well if that’s the case then maybe today is Sunday
And I still am waiting to live at the end
I am a weeping widow
Abandoned and left for dead
Or maybe an orphan is better yet
Waiting for a break
i am helpless with nothing to do but
ask and wait for an ace in this poker deck
because all I have is deuce and three and im drawing dead.

Snowbanks North of the House

-Robert Bly 1926

Those great sweeps of snow that stop suddenly six
feet from the house ...
Thoughts that go so far.
The boy gets out of high school and reads no more
books;
the son stops calling home.
The mother puts down her rolling pin and makes no
more bread.
And the wife looks at her husband one night at a
party, and loves him no more.
The energy leaves the wine, and the minister falls
leaving the church.
It will not come closer
the one inside moves back, and the hands touch
nothing, and are safe.

The father grieves for his son, and will not leave the
room where the coffin stands.
He turns away from his wife, and she sleeps alone.

And the sea lifts and falls all night, the moon goes on
through the unattached heavens alone.

The toe of the shoe pivots
in the dust ...
And the man in the black coat turns, and goes back
down the hill.
No one knows why he came, or why he turned away,
and did not climb the hill.

for your understanding...

Dear friends,

The barbarians are on their way
in rancorous heinous brigades

as fathers fight with wives
the children discover daddy’s magazines
and mother goes off
in someone else’s bed

The barbarians are on their way
Pillaging and plundering
Beatings, killings and stealing

While children drop out of school
Sniffing white off the floor
Pressing addicting needles to the vein
Binging their lives away
a means of escape,
a vice to cope

I know your lives have gone awry
...Being is suffering
you wonder why you exist
Like sheep for the slaughter
You are frail, helpless prey

You cry for daybreak
that pain will cease
but, if He is who He says He is
Its better you know Him in pain
Than be strangers while you prosper

A Road to regret

Appeal and enticement,
A pang of conscience,
Its suddenly cold,
Now so suddenly cold.
Pause for a moment,
Just to linger,
Is anyone watching?
“I think its clear”.
our innocence fleeting,
And our souls are crying,
Moment of decision,
Oh God, Help us.

Fascinating seduction,
And throbbing conviction,
Oh, God!
this Juxtaposition.
we can choose to dance
or walk away
oh, this hideous prediction

This is treason,
Terrible treason.
And there’s Blood on his hands.
Her heart is bleeding,
while tears are streaming,
But I swear,
Oh, I swear,
wounds will heal,
(wounds always heal)
Even if scar replaces tissue,
Until beauty is no more,
And her heart forgets
what it is to feel.

We’re all dancing, and drowning in sorrow.
Waiting for revelation on how to perform
The cycle continues on and on
Over and over
Beating us up, we’re bloody broken and frail
In vain, we spew forth futile effort

I have seen evil and I have seen good
oh, Good God of Peace, we're nothing good without you.

she is...

She’s like cold water on a sweltering hot day
And the color in a black and white movie scene
the sunshine after 3 full moons of gray
A breath of fresh cold air
In a hot polluted city
and the first sign of spring
After the long harsh winter freeze.
the warm rain on my roof
patting me to sleep
in summertime’s draught
She’s the stars in the sky
That heaven once made
the red leaves in the fall
as they peak and shine glorious one last time

Oh, I don’t think I could have asked for more than this
A treasure hidden in the depths of ocean’s deep
And I am choked with awe and speechless disbelief.
Cause I swear Id be nothing more than hopeless:
Staring out to sea, washed up, beaten, and nearly drowned by futile hopes
and prayers, coming from far-off, distant shores.

from your's truly...a message from your so-called "wordsmith"

dazzle me
and come experience
all that I
would dare display:

convictions,
experience
life
emotion
pain
the good and bad.

thank you

p.s.
I am not a wordsmith, whoever called me that you probably need a special test.