THE AFTER DARK FIELD BOOK

The first hundred sonnets from. . .

The After Dark Field Book Sonnets

by Drake Raft

Copyright © 1995,1996,1997 Drake Raft & www.jollyroger.com
[Order The After Dark Field Book Sonnets][The Poetry of Drake Raft]

I have waited for so long,

To live the magic on the stage,

To breathe the music in this song,

Before time turns the page.

A distant change in the weather,

Lightning sets the sky all aglow,

I wish it could last forever,

The quiet before the show.

Night falls; curtains rise with the moon up high,

And then walks again all that did once die:

Sitting alone by the window one night,

Brown dried grass sleeping in the late summer,

Heard a symphony playing out of sight;

Neither bows nor brass, a silent drummer.

Perhaps yawning sounds of distant traffic,

Or ghosts lamenting in the heavy air;

Echoing vibrations from the tragic,

A melody of yesterday's despair.

That quiet music made it all seem true,

I drew a cool breath and felt it's all right;

Come tomorrow there are things I must do,

But I believe in silent sounds of night.

When it plays again, the night's symphony,

Perhaps she'll hear it and remember me.

ii.

The phone rang, she said, "hey, there's a blue moon,

Let's picnic in the old cemetery,

We'll start off at dusk, be there by night's noon,

It's far off, hard to find, but by the moon we'll see."

Now I'm not morbid, don't worship Satan,

Any more than Darkness's Prince might worship me,

But of graveyards at night I am a fan,

As I was of her quiet mystery.

Met her down at the old waterfall fort,

She was seventeen, I was twenty three,

Theyd taught us to not heed laws of the court,

But a friend's all I wanted her to be.

'Cause I'd been through it all too many times,

I was still burning for yesterday's crimes.

iii.

A reflected moon danced 'cross the water,

The lake 'round the graveyard's peninsula,

She recited a poem her dad taught her,

About the perfect poet's fatal flaw:

"There was a youth who could make it all rhyme,

And everything he touched it turned to gold,

He wrote of love and death and tide and time,

But to find the yellow metal's so cold."

The poem chilled me; the flames faded to coals,

One more piece of art born of suffering,

Threw another log on to warm our souls,

But light to the night more wood would not bring.

Then I saw it! I saw it clear as day!

The thought no words, only sonnets, could say.

iv.

So quick with a smile, agile with a laugh,

Such a wild spirit I never did see,

She split the last oatmeal cookie in half,

Threw her half to the horned owl in the tree.

We leaned up against a big old tombstone,

And upon it I saw chiseled my name!

But it was but shadows of branches blown,

As the dark wind and the trees played their game.

She told stories as the moon climbed up high,

She made them so real, felt I'd been with her,

I watched the flame of our last candle die,

Up my spine crept a cold, tingling shiver.

"Wake me up if you go," she leaned her head on me.

She fell asleep, started snoring lightly.

A cloud crossed the moon-- my God what is this!

Darkness was complete, nothing could be seen,

Stared so hard, but no light could my sight kiss,

As I was enveloped in the black scene!

I panicked. Out! Help! But I couldn't scream,

'Cause I knew that it would be of no use,

For this abyss was of my private dream,

I had earned it by my sordid abuse.

Felt I was drowning, my heart pounding mad,

I gritted my teeth and thought, "All right night,

I know I've walked crooked, and I've been bad,

Take my soul, darkness, and show me the light."

Broke out in a cold sweat, and lost my breath,

As these poems were wrenched from me, to their death:

vi.

Conservative bandit, almost got lost,

Towards the wild sea youth always carouses,

Against the decadent rocks I was tossed,

For they'd deconstructed the light houses.

But I dragged myself from the tumbling surf,

And you know that yourself you've got to save,

These great fuited plains know bountiful turf,

But your own roads, friend, you are free to pave.

There's something beyond the politcal,

The eternal beyond the daily news,

Beyond the proud elite so cynical,

I took to the sea with no time to loose,

One foggy night, to make beacons of romance,

In truth's ragin' ocean, I'll take my chance.

vii.

And everybody broke up this summer,

Have you heard? There's no more reason to be.

Everyone's marching to their own drummer,

Everybody has just got to be free.

Guess you were searching for that perfection,

That they throw up upon the silver screen,

Found you in a bloody pool of rejection,

In the movies that scene is never seen.

Tell me girl, where were you going to go?

When you told me true love didn't exist,

Nineteen years old with nothing left to know,

Guess you'll never tell now, why you slit your wrist.

I'm sorry, but I don't know what I feel,

Your life from the rest of us you did steal.

viii.

You should've looked when darkness descended,

Listened closely, friend, to the silent still,

For there's a beginning when all has ended,

Sure as there's death atop our dearest dream's hill.

If you wish to listen, then let me tell,

Let words fill the emptiness of being,

Without words I'd be in unconscious hell,

For thought there would be no way of seeing.

When you leave the path, order starts to wane,

and instilled illusions begin to fail.

When you are cast away in private pain,

to the whispering wind of these words rig a sail.

After dusk, had I never sought nor looked

in the utter black, I'd have missed this book.

ix.

Technology, you have reached your limit,

You can't amplify the beast anymore,

You've duplicated flesh, replaced the wit,

Created pictures which words were once for.

Blinded by the light, consciousness withers,

We are ruled by feelings, pleasure and pain,

It's dark out there, in the cold I shiver,

Being alone in thought makes one insane.

You hit humanity like a tidal wave,

Distracted the Lord, gave us idolatry,

But there's something that science cannot save,

Nor touch-- the written word's deep mystery.

For technology, you cannot touch this,

It is but what it is; a kiss is but a kiss.

A seventeen-year-old midwestern kid,

I packed my bags; hopped a plane for the East,

I had sold my mind to the highest bid,

What a shock to find I'd been bought by the beast.

They tried to lure me into saying ,

Overwhelmed me in dark reality,

So blind, they think they're equal to their luck,

Out to destroy my truth and destiny.

Seemed so contrived to me-- liberal laws,

No friends around, alone I walked the street,

Tried to rip me apart with mental claws,

They drew first blood; I found it to be sweet.

So here I am, pedant punk, disagree,

While your daughter's reading my poetry.

xi.

In the end they didn't have to ban books,

We returned, once more, to the dark ages,

Where all were manipulated by looks,

And crucified were all silent sages.

You were just trying to find a hand hold,

Something to believe in to raise you up,

But all you could find was brilliant fool's gold,

Didn't seem so sweet to drink from success's cup.

Anyone with sight never feels they belong,

For the superficial order's unfurled.

So you rebelled against all you thought was wrong,

By suicide you took on the whole world.

Me too girl, the night killed a piece of me,

Some call it innocence-- some say it's vanity.

xii.

In the graveyard the spirits came haunting!

Mysterious vapors shunned by society;

Unseen in the midst of flesh's flaunting,

Aye, mate-- I'd never seen them on MTV.

I brought out my pen, my pocket notebook,

Hands possessed; 'wind blew my pen 'cross the page,

As rose from every grave yesterday's spook,

I was seized by each ghost's particular rage!

It was my penance to capture it all,

I'd rampaged paradise-- the fruit I ate,

To gain redemption after the long fall,

Sentenced to capture night in the sonnet.

Where the human meets the void, art shall be,

Where order meets chaos there's poetry:

xiii.

By the valley cliffs we hopped on the train,

The flatbed cars that rolled on by at ten,

They always slowed down for the curved terrain,

Crossing the Ohio, sped up again.

Marie and I, we chased the sun all day,

On by the golden fields of September,

The rushing wind all our secrets did say,

In summer's breeze she glowed like an ember.

Apollo dove under, the train slowed down,

She had fallen asleep on my shoulder,

There would be no east bound train back to town,

But I didn't wake her, I just held her.

If flesh could follow what the mind does see,

Then I 'd be back on that train with Marie.

xiv.

Welcome to the silent jungle, my friends,

Where everything's done in the cloak of night,

Villain's smiles are but a means to an end,

Turn around once and you'll be out of sight.

No one seeks the truth, just get me my A,

We're all just faces in the faceless crowd,

Hit the street looking for someone to play,

Not you-- you bore me; grass has made you proud.

Sent me to this mental institution,

It's a rough time in here if your soul's white,

Don't need your cocaine, I've got religion,

I don't need anything that isn't right.

Mess with this, and it'll rip your mind in two.

You've got your illusion; this owns what's true.

xv.

All around me the red leaves were falling,

Swirling and twirling on down, so was I,

Blowing cold northerly winds were calling,

But with these broken wings I couldn't fly.

Then she walked by, brought a change in the air,

The sky in her eyes, the red in her hair.

In her I can see a summer sun set,

Roses by the road, rainbows when it's wet.

She flies so free, watch her go her own way,

One more guy, doesn't matter what I say.

Oh, I know in my arms she'll never be,

Closest I 'll get are these piano keys.

White ones when I 'm up, black ones when I 'm blue,

I play all of them when thinking of you.

xvi.

Oh my friends, ask not where the poet lies,

The poet lies within each one of you,

The creator of dreams, life's alibis,

Masterpieces of art, in all you do.

There's untold talent in watching the moon,

Or feeling the humor within a joke,

To read a book, appreciate a tune,

To fall in love with fall's burning leave's smoke.

But time is the master of all our rhyme;

He inspires it, and then takes it away;

Night's dreams born on silvery mists sublime,

All fade away, with the dawn of the day.

There's no beauty for which I ever cared,

That wasn't a beauty in which all shared.

xvii.

Walnut walls, golden studs in red leather,

Freshmen prep-girls wearing autumn kilts plaid,

Oh, come outside, there's much finer weather,

It gets in my way-- all for which is paid.

But there's a beauty there, genuine warmth,

It's nice sometimes, to come out of the night,

To catch Hickory's smile, and lose your breath,

Oh girl, for sore eyes you sure are a sight.

And what's this now, is she walkin' towards me?

How's it that she's catchin' me by the eye?

How is it in this crowd me she does see?

I'm just a T-shirt and jeans kind of guy.

"Seen ya around, stranger," she says to me,

"But never thought I'd catch you in Ivy."

xviii.

So you think you want to mess with me tonight?

Want to classify me by your disdain?

You think into my mind you've got insight?

How could you? You've never walked 'gainst the grain.

And all your degrees, they mean nothing here,

Upon the wide open fields of my mind,

You're the visitor in these words, my dear,

And your manners you really ought to mind.

So why don't you get dressed, now that you're rich,

No, there is nothing noble about you,

Deconstruct another, you jealous witch,

None of what you think about me is true.

But blindness is what makes idiots wise,

The ability to see truth in lies.

xix.

This soft secret's blown by the whispering wind,

To be caught by the white sails of your soul,

Listen close, in this tale truths you will find,

That to live we must keep locked in a black hole.

Oh, I have been shipwrecked upon thought's rocks,

Trapped above the water in consciousness,

I believed I held the key to the lock,

That confined man to his meaninglessness.

Born with a belief in thought and logic,

I felt by reason I'd find the good way,

But down reason's road I found the tragic,

Above the destructive element I can't stay:

Back on the sea, safe within a story--

For reasons sink in the great void's glory.

xx.

The greatest turn on is sweet innocence,

There's no seduction like that of the truth,

Quick girl, come-- the Autumn night we could sense,

Right now on the fields 'neath the speckled roof.

Follow me, Hickory, to the golf course,

I can smell the rum, I can taste the fire,

Red hair, Lennon glasses, the brisk wind's force,

The Greek Gods that Cheshire grin would inspire.

To the echo spot by the pond we walked,

Pile of Oak leaves, scent of cotton candy,

Pushed me down, lookin' up we lay and talked,

She'd stolen from Ivy a flask of brandy.

"Kiss me," she said, "I know your name's a fake,"

"But kiss me, kiss me right now, right here, Drake."

xxi.

Hey teach, don't think I'm gonna read your book,

Tired of being your captive audience,

It's messed up, I'd say, my money you took,

And then you tried to rape my common sense.

Tell me teach, why do I need a degree?

They were worth something, perhaps, long ago,

But fadin fast is your precious society,

Where politics is all you have to know.

But you're tenured to the corporation,

Selling transcripts in nihilistic classes,

I'm forced to buy mental masturbation,

From your gang of pretentious asses.

To evolve we don't need your final solution,

The truth shall prevail in evolution.

xxii.

A fall evening among the whispering leaves,

That spoke the secret of the cool season,

From their branches soon they would have to leave,

Though for changing weather there's no reason.

And her red hair was the color of fall,

Asleep upon my shoulder, unaware,

That like the leaves, we too would someday fall.

Lines would be etched upon her face so fair.

Oh she possessed an innocence so blind,

And the blindness made her most beautiful,

For I could believe I was being kind,

Instead of so selfishly dutiful,

Believing truth prevails in life's contest,

Makes my poems fair and her beauty honest.

xxiii.

Rhyme without reason is but painted void,

Reason sans rhyme is not philosophy,

Though half realities by empty men are buoyed,

For them it is true as it's all they see.

The great scholars are the great agreers,

When the blind lead the blind, the blind do see,

You're dead if you think different from your peers;

Liberal's tyranny of mediocrity.

Institutions wane and empires grows weak,

When blind conformity is deemed as strong,

When children are destroyed if their minds they speak,

When men seek power by tradition's song.

Burn! Burn down the school for which forests fell!

Burn the preacher in his self inspired hell!

xxiv.

I'm the pirate of your mind's seven seas,

I'll plunder your soul for a poem's pleasure,

And all your thoughts in these words I shall seize,

In a sonnet I'll bury your treasure.

Aboard this sloop I am the only law,

Whatever I choose to show that is seen,

If you want to duel I'll duel, let you draw,

Then I'll take you down under the calm green.

So get rid of that borrowed attitude,

It doesn't make a difference way out here,

You know, I find it just a little rude,

For you to keep secrets from Jolly Roger.

Aboard this ship death and darkness hold rank,

Think a slanted thought and you'll walk the plank.

xxv.

Thunder under the hood, trees blur on by,

While the stars above keep up silently,

Her hair blown on back, never needs to try,

She expresses beauty so naturally.

The cool wind rushing in from every side,

Black ribbon of road splits the fields in two,

Wire wheeled MGB, take us for a ride,

'Neath the Carolina night's mystic view.

But girl can I reach you, those bright blue eyes?

Touch the element behind that cool smile,

Too quickly we rush on, 'neath the starred skies,

Wish I could know you-- stop-- hold you awhile.

But I've got to keep my hands on the wheel,

Takes everything you've got, writing what's real.

xxvi.

Poet philosopher, you're a dying breed,

You'll be shot, then hung, if caught on the street,

Got high-tech, Renaissance men they don't need,

Bureaucracies only need to repeat.

You could have it all, if you had the greed,

You could rent your soul, boy, put on a tie,

But you would pay the price; your mind would bleed,

Freedom you cherish would wither and die.

So pull your hat down low, 'gainst the North wind,

It's a lonely walk, following the true,

The abyss gave you passion and a mind,

So run, boy, put in words all that you view.

Outline the beauty with the deep, dark pain,

Write to save yourself from going insane.

xxvii.

She may have had music in her blue eyes,

But there's quiet truth in your dark brown hue,

And where her painted face and hair told lies,

There's a natural beauty about you.

She might have the money and the right look,

But you have yourself, and your smile's in tune,

With beauty, souls we often overlook,

The soul's forever, while beauty leaves soon.

Now I 'm older, I appreciate more,

Than just an ornament to hang around,

The music in a face becomes a bore,

While the soul plays scores of infinite sound.

And so it is you are my first true love,

As I 've looked deeper, and risen above.

xxviii.

Oh, Einstein, couldn't you see tragedy,

In the search for the ultimate order?

While from Hitler's perfection flowed a blood red sea,

Couldn't you tell what would lie at the void's border?

Remember Hamlet's outrageous fortune?

Did you see what they did to Socrates?

And how Ahab's quest led him to ruin?

How consciousness was lost by good Nietzsche?

Did you not expect, the ultimate law,

would show that there is no law to be found?

Oh, Einstein, it's nothing new, quantum's flaw:

At the base of man's monuments there's no ground.

For the highest order is orderless,

Tragedy is there's naught behind greatness.

xxix.

Hey girl, these days of freedom make it hard,

'Cause we're kind of pitted 'gainst each other,

It's so easy to fold, take another card,

Everyone's looking for the perfect lover.

Seems like yesterday we would've made it,

And we could've traded souls forever,

But our generation's become so jaded,

Walls have been built where our souls have been severed.

But feeling pain's not a sign of weakness,

You know the pain, though you cannot admit,

But by those who most feel the black bleakness,

The two threaded tapestry shall be knit.

Let's be but friends so as not to be enemies,

We know what it's like to drown in love's seas.

xxx.

I crossed Washington by the Oak tree,

And walked under the philosophy arch,

I noticed a gargoyle looking at me,

It stiffened me like a collar with starch.

A wide open mouth on a face of pain,

Little monkeys climbing over the head,

Hellish horror the stone sought to explain,

While all the monkeys laughed over the dread.

What man condemned this poor visage to fire?

And in what kind of world did he believe?

To put this next to the majestic spires,

That reach for the empty blue sky to cleave.

Genius architects cant lie, so they hide

among stones gargoyles of man's other side.

xxxi.

Build me a ship to sail the seven seas,

A philosophy to describe all man,

A science to all nature's secrets seize,

Fiercest elements the hull must withstand.

Ah, but there's something no hull can outlast,

Be it of oak, be it iron or steel,

Be it words which into the truth is cast,

The barnacle shall overcome what's real.

The disciples attach themselves, so vain,

Barnacles believing they steer the ship,

Blind to the white sails, the mind's lofty pain,

So thick, with currents hulls begin to slip.

So the religion follows the masses,

Drifting 'cross seas 'til on rocks it crashes.

xxxii.

Studied Plato and his Predecessors,

Though any of them I never did see,

Instead they sent along an old professor,

A grad-student tagged along eagerly.

We learned of the forms, I met Socrates,

I admired the ways of that wise old man,

To learn he knew nothing, I paid my fees,

And realized education was a scam.

"Excuse me here, sir, but if you don't mind,

Nothing could I learn better without you,

A quieter place to sleep I will find,

For my term paper this blank sheet should do."

And that funny course, I never did pass,

But I learned more than the rest of the class.

xxxiii.

I know what you mean when you say you're sad,

Sad to see me now that we've broken off,

Those perfect days playing Frisbee we had,

Our hearts back then we did truly betroth.

Girl, to this day I never felt like that,

Afraid to ever fly that high again,

By your side still kind of wish I was at,

Soft eyes, wild laugh-- I can't say it in pen.

For everything perfect is tragic too,

As perfection which doesn't last is flawed,

And girl it'd kill me to see him with you,

By time memories of mine from me shall be sawed.

Go away girl-- don't want to know 'bout it,

Before I met you I lived without it.

xxxiv.

You set the stage, make up pretentious rules,

To ensure your disciples shall inherit,

Doesn't matter that they're blind, that they're fools,

Doesn't matter that they don't deserve it.

You build institutions of tradition,

Where conformity is what gets you through,

Ceremonies for fake erudition,

As if money can buy the deeper true.

But I guess it's all for entertainment,

We pay professors to tell us we're smart,

Give us virtue so we can run the government,

So we don't have to fight the wars we start.

Lie with a straight face-- you say it's the trick,

No thanks, I walk quietly-- the truth's my big stick.

xxxv.

There's a bird sanctuary on a pond,

Where all the Princeton geese come home to sleep,

They appeared as if summoned by a wand,

We were the shepherds of these feathered sheep.

The cold rain began to descend again,

She tucked her hair into her jacket's hood,

I drew the cord, tied it about her chin,

Geese honking good night to us, there we stood.

The sun peaked through for but a moment or two,

Before it slipped away over the edge,

It was then I knew our love would be true,

As the woods slipped over darkness's ledge.

We slowly turned from the fading pink sky,

Her face came up to mine, I closed my eyes.

xxxvi.

You know I never could figure you out,

There were things you didn't want me to know,

I know you've built walls to shut the pain out,

We fear they can't understand; so we don't show.

I know the magic lasts but a moment,

And a mystery figured out is dead,

My memory of you can not ferment,

As with our safe distance we never bled.

I know we weren't made to fall in love,

Two too skeptical of inherent nature,

Every time my heart flies as high as a dove,

I'm kissed, and torn apart by a vulture.

I guess I just want to see you one more time,

The mystery that gave reason to this rhyme.

xxxvii.

Turn off the technology, radio,

Don't need trees cut down for a newspaper,

In the forest is all I need to know,

I like nature-- wouldn't want to rape her.

And I don't really need a car to drive,

I've walked the miles, and I'll walk a few more,

It's a mystery why so many strive,

When the ocean's tide shall sweep clean the shore.

Don't want your political rhetoric,

Don't need you telling me who I should be,

Get me to the misty mountain's rocky creek,

Take me away to the silvery sea.

With the trees I feel so much less alone,

Than in a crowd where I could never be known.

xxxviii.

After dark, running across the golf course,

The moon rose in the summer night so clear,

Suddenly I was startled by a horse

I thought first-- then I saw it was a deer.

A marble statue, it's head held up high,

Looked around, noticed we were surrounded,

Twenty seven of his friends standing by,

I held my breath, the silence resounded,

Then the leader, he looked into my eyes;

He held me there, smiled, then nodded his head,

Laughing at the sad beauty of man's lies,

Off into the dark, my dearest friends fled.

But his gaze had transferred a light divine,

I 'm a believer in creatures benign.

xxxix.

Does life's meaninglessness make it mean more?

Are actions nothing in contexts of chance?

Or does chance give man something to live for,

Insignificance makes significance.

Because it's all for naught, we can be free,

But to be free, then we are free to choose,

What difference can choice make if naught will be?

All's equal in naught; there's no win nor lose.

So then the naught makes it all mean nothing,

But if this be the case, I will sing,

For I shall be free to act anything,

And into the void I shall myself fling.

If there's no consequence, then we are free,

But what good is free, when but naught will be?

xl.

Old Derek, though you may be far away,

I know all the things at which you would laugh,

And in my head I can hear your voice say,

The cow in the mudhole's taking a bath.

Seems no one else in this world understands,

The subtle joke at the root of it all,

But we wrote papers, we played in three bands,

Together from our youth's years we did fall.

But I know our spirits live forever,

And though each day we have to go to work,

In my heart, with you, we're young as ever,

Golf-ball hunting, me and my friend Derek.

The longer we're apart, the more I care,

With each passing face he becomes more rare.

xli.

Late September brings a chill in the air,

You can catch it at one in the morning,

As the leaves prepare for their final flair,

Without even a gentleman's warning.

Oh the fleeting beauty of a youthful fall,

Brought tears to my inexperienced eyes,

With barely any memories at all,

And my twentieth year not yet gone by.

I suppose the romantic grows old fast,

Nostalgia comes easily to him,

Fascinated by all that doesnt last,

Held in awe by time's predictable whim.

With words times burden I try to shoulder,

But as I write this, Ive become older.

xlii.

Seeking to describe beauty in nature,

He pored over his books for countless hours,

So he'd understand how time does mature,

And unlock the beauty of a flower.

Mathematical equations held truth,

That was absent from the realm of people,

Why the people laughed there could be no proof,

So he let only math in his steeple.

A driving order ruled his steely heart,

To which he felt all nature must comply,

People can lie about love from the start,

But time and gravity they can't defy.

He never found the key to beauty's tomb,

The people stole his notes and made a bomb.

xliii.

Gothic gray stones frozen in winter's air,

They may stand forever in the same place,

But time time erases the moments youth shares,

And each year brings youth with a different face.

Past laughter and humor rise to new heights,

Like wine with time does become more detailed,

Lost loves become memory's most precious sight,

Alongside our white hopes and dreams that failed.

Friendship never again will be so strong,

Together we discovered who we are,

These iron bonds will last all our life long,

As our gestures travel on towards the stars.

Now you know why I watched on from the edge,

For it hurts to lose friends over time's ledge.

xliv.

Rock' n roll took my soul, left a black hole,

And filled my head with all the empty words,

Politicians playing the savior's roll,

Took my cash, left me to the circling birds.

Oh but today's shallow art they're screaming,

It sells to the masses, it sells to me,

A thousand thousand kids begin dreaming,

Up on that stage they'd someday like to be.

And so it was this way with my friend Mark,

Bought a guitar with his college money,

Black Sabbath couldn't save him from the dark,

To lose in this land we'll always be free.

Guess he was naive, trusting what they said,

Last night good Mark shot himself in the head.

xlv.

Shh, sleep on, sleep on, my innocent friend,

Got to face the after dark on my own,

Can't promise I'll make it to the night's end,

Love you, but I've got to do this alone.

Got to separate myself from it all,

Find where I've gone wrong, where I've been cheated,

How much of it was my fault-- the long fall,

And to how much of it was I fated?

Next time girl, want it to be forever,

Ain't got nothing, by myself I stand,

And girl, you may see me again never,

If this truth the void wishes to be banned.

So judge me darkness, tell me what I'm worth,

If I'm nothing then take me from this earth.

xlvi.

A mind can make so many connections,

Before this grand vitality does cease,

It becomes stale, void of new inflections,

Spirits no longer afford matter's lease.

Each sonnet, each word, takes me closer,

To the day that I will no longer write,

Though lost, I 'll not be a tragic loser,

Good sportsmanship is accepting the night.

To free my Ariel, and Caliban,

And not demand of them more than their due,

To smile upon children as I grow wan,

It's enough to have once thought something new.

And there's a peace here, beyond all that's true,

For by truth, we justify the evil we do.

xlvii.

Hey there! How am I supposed to reach you?

When words no longer exist in your mind,

I wonder, do you still wonder what's true?

Or do you just follow your instincts blind?

Thought I saw something there two years ago,

I know you understood the things I said,

But now your sail's down, on by these winds blow,

Guess it's my fault; because of me you bled.

So I let go, watch you fade into black,

Can't ever tell if it's the times or me,

But either way I won't be coming back,

There's consciousness higher than MTV.

All your money, and that sorority,

Guess I just need different reasons to be.

xlviii.

I was studying the workings of a star,

Quantum mechanics, nuclear fusion,

From which is borne all life from afar,

This reality of dreams and illusions.

But there was no magic to the physics,

The cold, hard equations of description,

Couldn't convey the feeling so mystic,

To be living with her in a fiction,

A dream it must have been under the stars,

Her eyes closed, and her wet hair swept on back,

Oh, lost in reasons we fight all our wars,

So just give me a piece that's free from fact.

I no longer care what makes the wind blow,

There are things that a child should never know.

xlix.

In thought to grasp laws of the universe,

Independently of being observed,

To set a feeling down in rhyming verse,

Without knowing poems others engineered.

To humbly probe the depths of human sight,

Preferring nature to admiration,

To walk where no man has walked, in the night,

Passing up speaking for contemplation.

To live alone with thought, and be complete,

To not have to abuse men to succeed,

To live beyond the short-sighted elite,

To reality, the prophet will lead.

Oh Einstein, my words wane next to your thought,

The poet who found truth that words could not.

When the red sun touches the horizon,

Feel the heat radiating from the bricks,

A whiff of cool air; the night has begun,

And you succumb to your fantasy's tricks.

Oh, look towards dusk's deep blue eastern sky,

And dream the dream of a sixteen year old,

Somewhere out beyond, there's a reason why,

Sure as there's a reason we're never told.

The first spring night, that wild call's in the air,

Sitting on a bench, watching strangers pass,

Cars in the distance, quiet as a prayer,

Across the courtyard walks so fine a lass.

By the first warm, windless night I 'm swallowed,

And I taste the things that are not allowed.

li.

Girl, you're gorgeous, but don't it get boring,

Turning all the heads walking down the street,

I see girls see you-- they start comparing

themselves to something so naturally elite.

Girl, I'll tell you, it kind of gets boring,

Wearing my emotions upon my sleeve,

With everybody my mind exploring

Looking for the cracks in what I believe.

Never thought twenty four would be like this,

Thought by now I'd have it all figured out,

But I guess the mystery makes the first kiss,

Never quite knowing what she's all about.

Addicted to the stage, though there's a part of you,

That you know all the people lookin' never knew.

lii.

In evolution, conformity wins,

Because it's shared by the majority,

It's easy to sail with prevailing winds,

To navigate over well-chartered sea.

Original men are never needed,

The adult minds already have their words,

Defining power, how laws are heeded,

A new way they don't need nor can afford.

So the perceptive men are crucified,

Their ideas are relatively crazy,

To stand and say the people are defied,

By lying truths in the context hazy.

There's an element in man that must know

a truth, so the dead prophet he follows.

liii.

So many tears we shared over nothing,

For we feared that nothing would soon prevail,

I was afraid of losing everything,

But now it's OK that you have to sail.

It's hard to tell what's real from what's an act,

But we told the truth, even when we lied,

Pretending that forever was a fact,

As we played out our charade side by side.

The truth is that you're a beautiful girl,

But the truth in your face brings a man down,

With love the logical world did unfurl,

In beauty's truth all other truths do drown.

Alone, I am left with nothing to know,

With you I lost my truths; now you too go.

liv.

The black bleakness cuts to the bone at night,

When you're so far, far, far away from home.

Drawn out, tired, everyday you've got to fight,

All alone you must bring forth a new poem.

My eyelids grow heavy, I'm getting cold,

Dull headache descends, the void takes its toll,

But I must yet stare in, 'til all is told,

'Til the light's drained, extinguished is the coal.

Guess it's crazy, to have to walk alone,

But what I saw I always had to say,

Such a short time we've got to make it known,

Such a long time we've got down there to lay.

You look long enough, boy, into the void,

It looks back into you and you're destroyed.

lv.

When all the forces have been unified,

And all philosophies have been explored,

When the final solution has been applied,

I in all this perfection shall be bored.

So I'll drop you a line of rhyming verse,

Watch the critics try to file it away,

They will load each word into its own hearse,

Taking out of context everything I say.

For in their minds my words lose their meaning,

As they use me to justify some cause,

I say I don't believe in anything,

Saying nothing, these words transcend all laws.

But as I did not create these words I use,

I guess it's fair my thoughts should see abuse.

lvi.

Late October eve, Indian summer,

And the sun sits on level with your eye,

Blinded by the light, you can still see her,

So calm, so still, a cricket's sawing sigh.

Red, orange leaves, and yellow in our star,

Green grass, blue skies, in her eyes indigo,

A beckoning violet from mountains so far,

As the sun sets over autumn's rainbow.

When with someone the question disappears,

The search over, the moments last forever,

Oh, true love we learn so quickly to fear,

Watching eternity recede into never.

But against the pain, don't build a perfect wall,

Leave a window for the rainbow of fall.

lvii.

I've got four million CD's to choose from,

Ten thousand channels for me to tune in,

A hundred professors selling wisdom,

Don't need it, with my own mind I begin.

I know how, thanks, to read a classic book,

I don't need you telling me what it means,

Never much respected blind, kniving crooks,

They let my fathers die-- liberal deans.

You don't care about the mind that is me,

Which is OK; I don't care about you,

But I am not making you brown nose me,

While you'll flunk me if I don't do it to you.

You can have your racist diversity,

Just give me my F and set my soul free.

lviii.

Why worry about all the details?

When nobody understands the basics?

Why decorate a page with gaudy frills?

If nothing's ever said of the classics?

Physics is trading the forests for trees,

Four years of book-keeping, five more in Grad school,

Everyone stares at the board and copies,

To believe one understands takes a fool.

But men with the conforming elements,

Forge ahead, believing that they know,

They preach to you, that they're close to what's meant,

What the essence is behind this brief show.

While lesser minds corrupt in institutions,

Maverick minds follow their intuition.

lix.

Past the point of return, slipping so fast,

Into the dismal depths of depression,

It's nothing new-- the high never does last,

Think by now I would've learned my lesson.

But I yet reach for my own destruction,

Towards the perfect dreams my mind does present,

Lend a hand to evolution's erection,

Closer to death as each emotion's spent.

And oh boy, it's gonna be a bad storm,

Constant thunder's white noise within my head,

Too many connections, gone is any one form,

It's time for me to join the living dead.

The meaning wanes, I've been buried alive,

I exist, but gone is reason to strive.

lx.

These poems are not for critics-- they're for youth,

Don't read this if a teacher tells you to,

But read it if in words you find a truth,

That kindles that precious, perceptive view.

Oh, for all words were born upon feeling,

Without sentiment words are meaningless,

So beware, my friends, of pedants stealing,

Your right to write, leaving you dreamingless.

Without feeling, they have not the insight,

Into the present's loves and tragedies,

Mediocrity is the genius's plight,

Against him, it owns the majorities.

So don't study me friend, study yourself,

Lest your mind grow dusty upon the shelf.

lxi.

Artists envy the audience's eye;

For it has the final claim upon art,

Creators see the extravagant lie,

Where observers find a truth for their heart.

Does reason lead poetry's lines to rhyme?

Or does rhyme float above the deep reason?

In reading one feels both at the same time;

A rainbow and snow in the same season.

I wish I could again enjoy a book,

And be blind to the pain between the lines;

Skipping stones on the surface of a brook,

With a child's belief in something divine.

But more than you, I envy these few words,

For after we're gone, they will still be heard.

lxii.

It keeps me young, staring into the void,

I seek dissolution and shun pretense,

All external order must be destroyed,

I only want to feel what I can sense.

In decadence there is an honesty,

You can memmorize order but not feeling,

From society's subtle lies I'm free,

Art flows from me-- I'm not the one stealing.

There is nothing that compares to the high,

The high that is inspired fleeing the dark,

You must believe you're gonna truly die,

To gain the magnificent rainbowed arc.

I know forever nobody can fly,

But these poems let the Sysiphus in me try.

lxiii.

The profit of knowledge is ironic,

The poet prophet is a paradox,

At once both the venerator and cynic,

At once setting free and binding with locks.

We're taught that it's virtue to have the truth,

God wishes us to look down upon lies,

But the truth, the truth is good evil's proof,

To be honest is to oneself despise.

Kurtz's insight was a reward of life,

The realization of truth-- the horror,

It marked the beginning of Marlow's strife,

Corrupting insight into man's true core.

Truth walks among angels, burns in hell's fire,

Truth's dangerous when told by a liar.

lxiv.

Your beauty I can't reach nor touch tonight,

And so I focus upon this paper,

To bring your eyes and hair into light;

Rescue you from my mind's cloudy vapor.

Golden hair, down to the small of your back,

A smile so perfect, made for a goddess,

The curves and movements, nothing do they lack;

Yet in your laugh there's all that is modest.

The girl who found the channel to my heart,

The moment my eyes fell upon her face,

A fallen angel, with heaven did part,

To embroider my days in ruffled lace.

I would burn this paper, and break my pen,

If I could but hold her close once again.

lxv.

Early this morning you got on a train;

I tried not to cry, it started to rain.

Though you left me, I will try to be strong,

I 'll think 'bout you while they're playing this song.

I know I 'll never stop dreaming of you;

You will be with me, whatever I do.

When I feel down, I 'll look up to the sky;

Hear the melody I stole from your eyes.

You told me you needed to feel you were free,

You left my heart locked, you ran with the key;

And so I sit here, with nothing to do,

But sing the music that reminds me of you.

I stole this melody, from your blue eyes;

On the rainy gray day you said good bye.

lxvi.

Without beauty, how easy to abstain,

From the pleasures that beauty is heir to,

To promote virtue, with no chance of stain,

To be pure, there's nothing else he can do.

He rises above as a holy man,

His saintlihood garners sinner's respect,

The flames of fear and shame he knows to fan,

Making the different look like defects.

So the different are to be condemned,

In this way the ugly find their power,

Fueling reasons for men to be contemned,

Reaping the grim treasures of hate's dower.

We made him, he who plays upon our fears,

When he cried as a child, we ignored his tears.

lxvii.

My body's the ship, my mind is the sail,

My spirit keeps on blowing me along,

Over the ocean blue, imagination's dale.

Just a kid riding the wind's whispering song,

Driving my bug, wearing a bandanna,

My hair flowing back, pedal to the floor,

Dreaming beyond that blinking antenna,

I was sixteen, knocking on heaven's door.

On that summer eve my mind connected,

And my soul was borne upon the night's air,

With a freedom I became infected,

And ever since I haven't been back there.

Still don't know what this wind's blowing me toward,

But I know it keeps blowing me forward.

lxviii.

If you walk down by Princeton Inn college,

Say hello to the Grad Tower for me,

I watched it for two years, over the hedge,

December's sun sets held Divinity,

If you go on by McCarter Theater,

Listen carefully to the singer's words,

It's youth who causes the earth to teeter,

So take it to your heart, all you've heard.

And if you walk through the institute woods,

Be sure to ask the geniuses for me,

If in their ideas they see any good,

And what time's done with who I used to be.

If you run into me, don't say hello,

I may say something you don't want to know.

lxix.

You once saw something in me girl-- it's gone,

There was music, a sense, in the words I'd say,

But that was long ago, and we've moved on,

To killing each-other everyday.

Almost forgot I've been through this before,

There's a truth I value above people,

It's the power behind all of my lore,

I worship alone in this abstract steeple.

The contradictions you will never see,

Though you sometimes feel the insanity,

But because I can laugh at tragedy,

You know you don't really matter to me.

Beauty's in the beholder's eye-- it's strange,

That I am different because you have changed.

lxx.

When we met I saw a truth in your eyes,

I watched as the world kicked you in the head,

When down it's easy to buy into lies,

The eighteen year old I once met is dead.

Don't fear or hate me, just 'cause I'm different,

And I won't hate you just 'cause you're the same,

It's not by choice that by cruel wind we're bent,

No one controls the dice in this cruel game.

And I know my words shall never reach you,

I guess I must just write them for the wind,

And as it blows these big black clouds on through,

May it blow all my poems to someone kind.

Honesty is a lonely place to be,

But it's lonelier to pretend to agree.

lxxi.

One can not prepare for both peace and war

Simultaneously. I can't believe

that peace is what atomic bombs are for,

And those who believe it themselves deceive.

For the bombs were built by great men of pride,

Grown men celebrated while children burned,

But many more, I have heard, would have died,

So we are saved by that by which we're spurned.

From war we make peace, in peace we find war,

It's in our nature, the will to explode,

Creative destruction sleeps in man's core,

The bomb waits, Noah's flood has not yet flowed.

The bomb increased our power to destroy,

But our souls the same vices yet employ.

lxxii.

I've got no reason to listen to you,

Your old T-shirt says authority sucks,

And now that you're it, I see that it's true,

Giving us condoms, wishing us good luck.

No, I'm not gonna let you write my role,

From depression's throne, you look down on romance,

I can get plenty high without a bowl,

In pure words with her I have learned to dance.

Oh, cut me down some more, miserable witch,

You're a phenomena of easy times,

Not gonna lie with you in that liberal ditch,

Somebody's got to write the unknown rhymes.

Burn it! Destroy all weakness that constrains!

As truth the institution only feigns.

lxxiii.

He said we'd value reason over poems,

We'd follow logic instead of pleasure,

We would catalogue heaven's starry domes,

Make sure words never mingled with measure.

Philosopher kings would bring us the truth,

We would have no need for the birds of song,

From the poet we would stand aloof,

Art's imitation, imitation's wrong.

Oh, but Plato, I read this in a book,

A dialogue between people unreal,

Long and hard, for Socrates I did look,

But all I found was what you made me feel.

A naive poet you are, my Greek son,

To believe your truth is the only one.

lxxiv.

I can know you better without you here,

To remind me of the ways you have changed,

You've grown up, and adapted to the fear,

You don't feel that you yourself have been estranged.

Don't think that you're the first to think me a fool,

For being martyred for but a trifle,

But what is a life worth without this rule--

Open honesty I shall not stifle.

It isn't something you can trade nor sell,

One misplaced note ruins the entire sound,

You can stand me up at the gates of hell,

But I won't back down, no I 'll stand my ground.

My friend, if you truly loved the baby,

You wouldnt cut it in half-- thered be no maybe.

lxxv.

So quick to accept some recognition,

For unselfish good performed on our own,

So eager to join in a tradition,

Where modesty on a stage can be shown.

There's paradox in medals of honor,

For the honor has already been done,

Presentation's to the medal's donor,

To include him in wars already won.

The allure of secret societies,

And all the empty beliefs we cling to,

I guess these mirages we choose to see,

For there is nothing else solid to do.

And so we build our castles upon air,

The king's tragedy's to learn nothing's there.

lxxvi.

By Rocky, listen to the whisper arch,

Hear the echoes from the winters before,

Turned my collar to the wind, throat was parched,

My legs were aching and my back was sore.

But still I ran through the cold blowing snow,

Without love, without hope, with but a heart,

No curiosity, nothing to know,

Blank white out, couldn't find a place to start.

But still I ran through the slush, the hour rush,

Bleak gray fog pervaded all of Princeton,

I was slipping, drowning in this vast hush,

With no where to go, nothing to get done.

But I ran, and ran, I outran the gray,

To give this to the whisper arch to say.

lxxvii.

An ode to the four towers of Princeton,

There's a Fine tower reaching for the Gods,

While along the ground the physics must run.

McCarter tower, where people applaud

the youth strutting their hour upon the stage,

But yesterday, the alumns were up there,

Sweet scent of magnolias carried rage.

Over the greens, the graduate tower,

A pillar of isolated knowledge,

Studying Fitzgerald, Shakespeare's dead youth,

While the living poets turn from college,

Look deep into her brown eyes for the truth.

The highest tower's in Rocky's court yard,

For with the freshmen lives the living bard.

lxxviii.

All the greatest things must be tragedies,

For what is great but that which can survive,

But that which has come forth from the vast seas,

But the genes that have prevailed, stayed alive.

To stay alive one must use energy,

The higher the tower, the more power,

The more order, the more entropy,

That one may be sweet, the rest grow sour,

And so the winners, they define the God,

And say that God has created the winners,

But good youth perceives the winners are flawed,

Entropy makes winners greater sinners.

By this duality we have evolved,

About this paradox we still revolve.

lxxix.

What is it I missed, they all must wonder,

To be so close and yet, so far away,

To have felt the wind, and heard the thunder,

Though never seen a lightning bolt split the grey.

To have written volumes and volumes of words,

No where is there a thought worth remembering,

The music they feel, they can not make heard,

Sisyphus's meaningless labouring.

My consciousness in this dance must be lead,

By yours, and while it is I 'll write the poem,

Till someone new comes, hears the things I said,

And transcends them to touch the heaven's dome.

I'll say hello as I plummet on down,

Oh, I shall hide my melted wings, and drown.

lxxx.

Man shall not live by melody alone,

He shall have thoughts and ideas, said in words,

And he shall engrave these treasures in stone,

He shall defend these treasures by his sword.

Which is why but melody's innocent,

For it does not pretend to have reason,

There is no man who can say what is meant,

By Beethoven's pastoral, changing seasons.

These masterpieces form the nucleus,

Of cultures and natural selection,

The emulators become all of us,

We see by the genius's vision.

Oh, don't memorize how to touch the keys,

Do what you feel; strike wherever you please.

lxxxi.

Show them the Parthenon, they'll level it,

And call the broken rubble modern art,

Gaudy and pretentious they see sonnets,

Free verse rings true to the modern heart.

Forget pondering 'bout philosophy,

They've reduced dead white males to a fashion,

Deconstruction and relativity,

These are today's culture leach's passions.

Theories founded on that which they refute,

Critics try to tell you how to compose,

I thank them for trying to make me mute,

Without them this pain wouldn't become prose.

I 've seen them do the starving artist in,

I won't lose; their game I don't want to win.

lxxxii.

There's a ghost in the garage, Bethany,

You know I'd never go there alone,

Lately the scare-crow's been acting funny,

And Rufus dug up an odd looking bone.

On the porch, I don't recognize that pumpkin,

While raking leaves I had these strange pangs,

I looked up-- it gave me a big buck toothed grin,

Next time I looked it was like baring fangs.

There's a message on the machine from Grandma,

I was glad to hear she was doing fine,

But I liked her better when she lived with Grandpa,

On this side of the tracks, above the county line.

Though I've watched TV, this is the strangest I've seen,

I guess it must be getting close to Halloween.

lxxxiii.

It's a paradox that the greatest mind,

Of Socrates was not compatible,

with life-- reason to lie he could not find,

Sentenced to permanent sabbatical.

So the good poet must offer a lie,

Like Plato offered in his dialogues,

He had Socrates, removed, wonder why,

While he himself became a pedagogue.

Plato was a poet, a creator,

Naturally he wanted competition banned,

So he lied and said his truths were greater,

Gave his prophecies to be taught to men.

In the same breath he rhymed and banned poets,

So the coward's the same as the stoic.

lxxxiv.

When they kill you in the name of freedom,

Then don't you know it's time to burn them down,

It's a democracy, not a kingdom,

There is no such thing as the tyrant's crown.

So just who do you think you are, sick witch?

What makes you think I must be loyal to you?

Just because you lease your mind out to the rich,

Doesn't mean you can tell me what to do.

But you're a pawn in today's tyranny,

You're a beggar-- can't be a chooser too,

You're a fake in a university,

I went there and learned these facts to be true.

It's but political, get out the knife,

Got to kill if you want to keep your life.

lxxxv.

It's so much more than just true love with you,

I felt true love in our first autumn kiss,

But now that I look back, behold past's view,

It's the friendship I found with you I miss.

For compared to friends, true loves are common,

They come and go with the wink of an eye,

But true friends are not so easily won,

They must walk upright, while loves sometimes lie.

But friendship lacking love's void of romance,

And love without friendship's a losing race,

I guess I lucked out in this game of chance,

To have found both within your pretty face.

Though miles and mountains keep us apart,

Neither distance nor time can thwart my heart.

lxxxvi.

Marie, I wonder if you think of me,

As much as I 've been thinking upon you,

Nothing I 'd like better than you to see,

But I 've got exams and homework to do.

But nowhere in quantum can I find truth,

Nor the feeling I find talking to you,

Only in your brown eyes do I find proof,

And inspiration for the things I do.

And so for the moment I turn away,

But it's only so I can turn again,

Of these things that to you I 'd like to say,

I 'll set my thoughts down for you with my pen.

At this moment I wonder what you do,

Are you thinking of me, or someone new?

lxxxvii.

All you adults getting naked up there,

On the silver screen-- don't entertain me,

All the blood, guts, and nudity you share,

With the children in the land of the free.

So you think I'm a just an animal?

Do you know that which you are creating?

We're more than consumers shopping your mall,

Gettin' bored watching you masterbating.

When you're done with us, what shall we have left?

After your reign, what shall drive the economy?

Of our souls and meaning we'll be bereft,

To massacre each other we'll be free.

The context is gone for deconstruction,

You've done your job-- now mine is construction.

lxxxviii.

Hold me back girl, don't want to ruin it,

Don't want to make us fall over the edge,

Cause I 've learned there's a natural limit,

That governs how much you're allowed to pledge,

Don't want to hurt you, I want to be sure,

That my heart once again belongs to me,

Buildings crumble upon foundations impure,

I want something different for you and me.

For there's a sincerity about you,

That I admire, would like to have myself,

It seems you're so fundamentally true,

And yet, there's too, that mysterious stealth.

Never been so deep so quick with a girl,

I fear to touch it, and see it unfurl.

lxxxix.

I fear all the small minds in high places,

That through blind conformity rose above

Others who thought and looked beyond the faces,

Those who did not fit in a pre-made groove.

I know a boy who took easy classes,

He made all A's and they said he was smart,

You know the different folk he bashes,

Good books grow evil when used by bad hearts.

Words are warped in a mind's tiny context,

In fits of paranoia he strikes out,

He feels strength when debasing words are flexed,

The people follow his murderous shout.

But movements are more than a single man,

He's but the spark, the people are his fan.

xc.

Esoteric mystery, sixth of June,

Warm smell of marigolds, a worn path's dust,

Over Pine's spire, the rising full moon,

High on the innocence of teen-age lust.

Thursday of dead week, before reunions,

Haunted by deserted dreams of the past,

Can you hear ghost music from the dark rooms?

When you were young you believed it would last.

Youngpixie girl, walking with her father,

Arm around her, he points to the door,

"If I could do it again, I 'd go further,"

He looks at her, chooses the thought to ignore.

Oh, here we learned all truths are bitter sweet,

That eternity too is something fleet.

xci.

You're in the jungle, boy, of Princeton U,

For one hundred grand we'll show you the way,

Got a gay for you, he'll teach you to screw,

Anything the Nazis hate is OK.

We're here for revenge, to set it all right,

With those crimes you've comitted 'gainst women,

Got our economists the rules to write,

You're not diverse enough to hold a pen.

An individual, you'll never do,

We need the mindless for beauracracy,

You've got a defect, you think there's a true,

There's not, but for what we need you to see.

We're here to promote peace, equality,

Sorry, you must die-- we can't let you be.

xcii.

Man, the great political animal,

Must spend a life believing in his lies,

From the cradle to his last funeral,

He fabricates a reason each day to rise.

And yet too these reasons are the truth,

As beautiful as the November rain,

Aroma of the pink blossoms of youth,

As real as heartbreak, the first lost love's pain.

The body gives the mind reason for reason.

Though ideals are sacrificed for beauty,

It's not really sacrifice-- changing seasons,

It's the rule of nature's reality.

Whatever shall happen shall happen-- I know,

Whether or not you choose to think it so.

xciii.

Eternal vigilance: Liberty's price,

The hand of power is our enemy,

A despot wielding virtue as a vice,

Democracy becomes a tyranny.

She exists on the premise of liberal thought,

In this country founded upon free speech,

These ideals for which yesterday's men fought,

These God-given rights she herself does breech.

Oh, it is not her fault, for she can't see,

The paradox of tragic irony,

To be the poet queen of the free,

One must possess humble responsibility.

Democracy rises from tyranny,

Tyranny gives birth to democracy.

xciv.

What do we do with the old love sonnets?

Do we save them for Grand Children to find?

Will they nag us, like yesterday's regrets?

Or grow dusty with memories in our mind?

Oh, either way, it's a losing battle,

One more sign of time's relentless arrow,

The finest verse, and meaningless prattle,

Both disappear and leave me with sorrow.

But heart-ache, and oh, beautiful sorrow,

They fill me with hope, give me a reason,

That I, I may yet find her tomorrow,

Change has brought me round to the green season.

The words are lost and so is my ink pen,

Ah! But look, the paper's a leaf again.

xcv.

Girl, you're gettin' good at cryin' and moanin',

You practice so much every single day,

I must keep you around to hear your groanin',

It's bringing me down, everything you say.

What I don't understand is why you blame me,

Told you a thousand times, you're free to go,

The lighter side I've tried to help you see,

But you're dedicated to the morbid show.

Did you ever stop to think and wonder,

That what's killing you is pot's phoniness?

Though it's not my fault you blindly blunder,

You'll hate me 'cause to me your secrets you confess.

So go away girl, my mind's bad for you,

You drown in it-- stay in your shallow view.

xcvi.

Thou shall not steal nor commit adultery,

Then why have some more while others less,

If all men were created equally?

What they believe's different from what they confess.

Superficial order they interpret,

Find ten thousand ways to justify cause,

Adults learn the childhood truths to forget,

They hide their secret-- they don't believe in laws.

But the law of nature which drives them on,

To breed as our forefathers did so well,

They own survivng genes, all others are gone,

To win evolution wins life, not hell.

So the elite use the ten commandments to steal,

In their dark minds they separate ideal and real.

xcvii.

Salinger's verve she does not understand,

By law then, he can not be a writer,

As by Plato, all the poets were banned,

'Cause he couldn't explain their light brighter.

So often a great man lies behind his words,

Lies are safer than truths think animals,

He bans rhyme, rules with logic's double edged sword,

Icy order's instilled by the devil.

Republics can't be ruled by philosopher kings,

Philosopher kings will never exist,

Love of knowledge and power are different things,

Knowledge is used for power, when they're mixed.

It's tyrant's instinct that all should be banned,

That one fears that one does not understand.

xcviii.

Who would have ever thought that the oppressed,

Bleeding hearts would have risen to power,

Yesterday's outcasts become today's best,

Old ideals by present actions do sour.

For what man can resist the temptation,

To follow the call of natural law,

To set aside words of contemplation,

To find perfection in what he called flaw.

Blessed are those who know it's all a game,

They discern the truth from what is spoken,

Blessed are the heartless, who feel no shame,

When rules they made by themselves are broken.

Damned are the sensitive, and those who see,

Paradox in to be or not to be.

xcix.

I wish I could find the words to reach you,

But I 'm older, and I 'm not so certain,

That there is anything that words can do,

To reach behind your mind's iron curtain.

For I see I can't say what I believe,

Whenever I am conversing with you,

And you think that my poems do too much grieve,

I can't share this with you, why I feel rue.

Mountains are highest, seen from the valley,

You can't write if you have nowhere to climb,

Heaven's found at the end of the dark alley,

Fighting the futility of fleeting time.

But I feel my words pushing you away,

A bit further with everything I say.

To see it all is not an advantage,

For then you are unlikely to conform,

To what the masses arbitrate is sage,

You see the capriciousness of the norm.

But the minds of men make few connections,

For they use the same words without the thought,

Once I was fooled-- thought they saw abstractions,

The abstract by conformity isn't bought.

There is no way to imitate a laugh,

To sing words that one does not understand,

Or to follow ideals with a blind lies wrath.

Conformity won't make a stick a wand.

To see it all will send you to your grave,

But you'll go knowing there's nothing to save.

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