January 17, 2015

One Too Many


I wake to push the limits of a dream
to confront my fears and demons
to put the night back in the box
to capture all the night weasals
add color to empty easels
overcome cholera and measles
you must learn to fly in your dreams before you walk
before you talk you must move
from the center of the dream
to the edges of waking and wanting and having
to the edges of believing and living

Do you have to believe in something
just to want to live in something solid
to love somebody fluid
that is the essence of desire
the wanting and the having
the mystery of the other
it's mind over mother
pushing both farther and father
stretching the lie, blurring the lines
forgetting the story losing the script
making it up as you go along

you cannot troll the surface
you have to dig deep to find the meaning
to get the the cherry the prize in the box
so you search only to find
just another tool in the box
a curling iron and ironing board
bored and ironic
irony curling and curing
the lines keep on blurring
there are limits to living
there are limits to believing

others  may be living outside the law
even mothers can be outsiders
dads are no different
they live outside the law
outside the womb waiting
fathers are always left wanting
like strangers in a crowd of crows

famous words of wisdom that I told my chickadee
: don't eat anything bigger than your head:
this was my sage advice
Only to have my daughter tell me, on one sunny day
we see two men walking down the street
arm in arm, one bare chested with nipple rings
and a pair of sunglasses dangling from the ring,
"Dad, this is where I draw the line."

childen must be taught but they also must be listened to
same wise daughter reminds me to color outside the lines
Outside the lines outside the dream,
I want to retaste the candy of my youth
to go all throwback thirsty
gorging on memories and
pictures filled with beauty
marks moles, but in the end we are just meat
different cuts of meat

there is the  beauty and there is the butcher
carving out a piece for only themselves
baring their souls then serving with pecuniary permission
souls with cutlery and culinary peculiarities
it is sweetbreads and cod lips
only petty cash and peonies
slavery and solving puzzles
ointments and unguents
salving and having
this is how we feed the imagination

This is how you open a life
baring your soul in public
it is learning to live with your heart wide open 
it is deciding just how open your heart can be and still be living
can you live with your heart open?
Are you ready to receive ready to be ready to live to love
 are you still hungry for food and friends?

there are too many hearts yet to break
to crack open to attack with a pen a pole
a poke a roll in the sack
Only you can decide the laws to follow
it is not without consequence
But you get to be honest or not
you can push away the loss and dross
you can journey to the hole of the donut
to expand upon the soft gooey center
you must make the rules to break the rules
there are sorting decisions there are edits and incisions that can be made
in the end there is only one question that matters
how far can you stretch your heart
how far can you stretch your holes
to receive love and life and madness and sadness
before deciding that you can only have
one too many assholes in your life?

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