I see the clouds in bitter forms:

I feel the winds coming on,

Now where is this supposed storm?

Where is the flood they talk about?

 -

There’s no end to the drumming

To the inevitable march of the storm becoming.

 -

I’m finished with doubt

I see the dirt and the clout

When will it be enough

To let the rain pour out?

- 

I’ve got no more secrets

And I’ve all lines tapped,

No longer any regrets

And yet still here I stand trapped.

 -

The waves push and pull me,

The silence does anything but lull me.

My mind’s edge is razor sharp,

You cannot do anything to dull me.

 -

I hear the winds humming

Their weary songs of a storm becoming.

I will keep trying

I will push through

With all the lying

I’ll let my words ring true:

 -

I’ll be the bolt of lightning

That starts it all,

I’ll be the flash

That gets the iron bell tolling,

Gets this immovable ball rolling.

 -

I’ll be the fire under all your asses,

I’ll whip the masses into frenzy:

I’ll be the only one to mend me

For you can never break, only bend me.

 -

You’ll all have hell to pay

And all the cards you play

And the empty words you say

Will come crashing down

In a crush of fury:
You’ve no need to worry

 -

About what is coming,

It is I, the storm becoming.

 -

The water that washes

This world all over,

Best wear them galoshes.

 -

For my darts and dashes

Will leave you all to ashes,

And after that,

I shall lay the world flat and wide,

For I am the storm becoming,

Turning the world on its side.

And you want me to be strong

And you say we’ll get along

Like fine china in a glass case

But just in case you weren’t listening

-

Your war is lost, in having extended truce to me

And truthfully this is one damn

I won’t be giving anymore

-

I flew out to the finest technicians

Just to see what was broken could never be fixed

And you’re one day of the week i’ll always miss

But I’m fine knowing I’ll always have the other six

-

Keep playing your cards right

And you’ll see me at another blight

Rushing in to the fire to burn myself alive

But aim softly now, I’ve turned a cheek

And there’s no room in my mind for you to survive

-

And you want me to be a bird to fly

You want to stay in my life and be a spy

And when envy is the apple of your eye

You’ll come running back

And you want me to hold that

love you thought I never lacked

-

I know  you fear looking in the mirror

Cause that mirror is most certainly cracked

I lost my soul when I got a tan

Saw it talking to a homeless man

Shedding advice.

-

I breathed my last words

Into the mouth of a stranger,

Like a ventriloquist,

Fueled with anger.

-

No, must I shed these wings

For imperfect trials beyond

The miles of tomorrow?

-

Or must I tread these things

Like Jesus did the cross

For miles in sorrow?

-

This weekend, never a getaway,

A trap into the same conversations.

The arguments we know we’ll have

To make our reservations.

-

Fists piled high

This consternation sweeps sleep.

Oh me, oh my.

This constant inflation keeps things steep.

This great Thunder

   rumbles within me,

it compliments   the flashes

        and the rains beyond

      my windows and walls,

 sometimes I’ve

   stumbled with sin,

only to repent the

  Gashes and the pains

    upon my skin and my galls.

With time and gratitude,

  The aches untie

      themselves

each scar a gift in

     its healing,

  and I’m at the latitude

  that wakes the sky

       and delves

  each star to lift

    in its shining.

-

No more have I to

    feign my thrills

    for cheap ones

   gotten at consequence,

       of these gills

   the lessening of

       interpersonal debts

and yet the pile on

      of paper bills.

-

It’s been unreal 

  to know my path

     and that wrath

     which dared sit

     amongst my crowd

        of thoughts

     whispers of treachery

          and deviations

poured wide into

     this ego:

-          

     The mind’s

        wine drips

    upon this rain I sip

    and here

       we go

           again.

Dear centurion

Command my dreams

to release their power,

Call them to awake,

Pray thy ships’ pulsing

For sleeping’s subtle sake.

Whereby my years flinched in siege,

What thoughts escape me,

Are yours,

My liege.

 -

Great centurion,

Blow thy winds upon my words,

Wisps in secret afternoons,

And give this gift upon the birds

Ripening the harvest moon

To take,

Your evening’s bell

Would sooner break

The task,

To shell a brighter sun

Under which to bask.

 -

Holy Centurion,

This mountain bows graciously,

The mellow lion eats

Voraciously,

The seeds are pillows

Tight,

Billowing their appetites,

In heat.

 -

Pliant Centurion,

Many of us await your congress,

Unveiling which to yield

And which to dress,

Making comfort’s whittled mess,

A whisper,

And yet a yes.

 -

Wiley skies

The clouds usurp the day

The grass of the field

And the gray

The dust and the air

Interplay.

 -

Coded Centurion,

Then,

Make meals

With which to mend,

So that

We all may bend

In the light of the breeze,

Set our minds at ease,

With what we all know

As the beginning,

The end.

Out there on Long Island,

Broken down trust

In a desert of pain.

And there’s enough rust,

Ain’t no need for rain.

On the other end,

I am silent.

- 

Long distance runaround

The same feelings

No sight, just sound.

I’ll be kneeling

And settling down,

Praying just

To have you around.

 -

And all the advice

In the world

Couldn’t bring me

Back my girl,

For you’ve got

To break the chains

Of naiveté.

You’ve got

To find a way.

Out there on Long Island,

A warm couch is thy enemy,

The chocolates of complacency.

Pick thy battles carefully.

 -

You said you loved

The way the tide receded,

How you felt needed,

But deep within your gut

Rots an agony

Too often kept inside

And breeded.

 -

I search for you

Along the shores

Of this fragile state,

You don’t shout help

You don’t put your life jacket on,

You look for no rock to keep upon,

As far as I know,

You’re as good as gone.

 -

I’ll book a room now

I’ll find a way somehow

But this is all too familiar—

I’ve not the multiplying limbs

Of a caterpillar

I can help those

Who help themselves,

You can climb down

Those series of shelves,

You can call and ask

A million questions,

And for your god’s sake,

When it stings,

Address your feelings.

 -

Beloved Pearl,

Out there on Long Island,

Make me proud to be yours,

You’ve given me

The hope to succeed

Now if only my advice

You’d heed,

-

I might not be the boss

But I will swim across

The cold seas between us

For you’re my sunken venus

-

I shall dive down

To the threats of death

And retrieve you with breath. 

On the highway,

Changing positions,

Mergers & acquisitions.

Some forge forwards

To shave minutes off the clock,

Some fall back and cruise on lock.

Some fly into the mess of clusters of cars,

To make it out ahead.

Some dive off into exits,

Saying their goodbyes

Instead.

—
And then there are the accidents—

Random strings of events

From not-quite wrecks to broken necks,

To the littlest of fuck-ups

To trucks and cars piled up.

—

We drive by

Veiled in misery

But too curious to look away,

We wonder if

One of the victims

Had hell to pay.

—

There are angels scraping the roads clean

of any version of what it might mean.

—

And we are just onlookers

More gruesome than the scene itself

Who’d have known we’re the ones

That need help and divers

And jaws of life

Moreso than any of the survivors.

—

When the destination occurs,

And you get to the time

On which it all depends

You may realize

The road never ends.