Song of Myself
1. From a Dusty Bookshelf
2. All That Great Heart Lying Still
The nightingale is still locked in the cageThe deep breath I took still poisons my lungsAn old oak sheltering me from the blueSun bathing on its dead frozen leaves
A catnap in the ghost town of my heartShe dreams of storytime and the river ghostsOf mermaids, of Whitman's and the rideRaving harlequins, gigantic toys
A song of me a song in needOf a courageous symphonyA verse of me verse in needOf a pure-heart singing me to peace
All that great heart lying still and slowly dyingAll that great heart lying still on an angelwing
All that great heart lying stillIn silent sufferingSmiling like a clown until the show has come to an endWhat is left for encoreIs the same old dead boy's songSung in silenceAll that great heart lying still and slowly dyingAll that great heart lying still on an angelwing
A midnight flight into Covington WoodsA princess and a panther by my sideThese are Territories I live forI'd still give it everything to love you more
A song of me a song in needOf a courageous symphonyA verse of me verse in needOf a pure-heart singing me to peace
All that great heart lying still and slowly dyingAll that great heart lying still on an angelwing
Now all that great heart lying stillIn silent sufferingSmiling like a clown until the show has come to an endWhat is left for encoreIs the same old dead boy's songSung in silenceAll that great heart lying still and slowly dyingAll that great heart lying still on an angelwing
3. Piano Black
A silent symphonyA hollow opus #1,2,3
Sometimes the sky is piano blackPiano black over cleansing waters
Resting pipes, verse of boreRusting keys without a door
Sometimes the within is piano blackPiano black over cleansing waters
All that great heart lying still and slowly dyingAll that great heart lying still on an angelwing
4. Love
I see a slow, simple youngster by a busy street,With a begging bowl in his shaking hand.Trying to smile but hurting infinitely. Nobody notices.I do, but walk by.
An old man gets naked and kisses a model-doll in his atticIt's half-light and he's in tears.When he finally comes his eyes are cascading.
I see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. He tries to bite me.All pride has left his wild drooling eyes.I wish I had my leg to spare.
A mother visits her son, smiles to him through the bars.She's never loved him more.
An obese girl enters an elevator with me.All dressed up fancy, a green butterfly on her neck.Terribly sweet perfume deafens me.She's going to dinner alone.That makes her even more beautiful.
I see a model's face on a brick wall.A statue of porcelain perfection beside a violent city kill.A city that worships flesh.
The 1st thing I ever heard was a wandering man telling his storyIt was you, the grass under my bare feetThe campfire in the dead of nightThe heavenly black of sky and sea
It was usRoaming the rainy roads, combing the gilded beachesWaking up to a new gallery of wonders every mornBathing in places no-one's seen beforeShipwrecked on some matt-painted islandClad in nothing but the surf - beauty's finest robe
Beyond all mortality we are, swinging in the breath of natureIn early air of the dawn of lifeA sight to silence the heavens
I want to travel where life travels,Following its permanent leadWhere the air tastes like snow musicWhere grass smells like fresh-born EdenI would pass no man, no stranger, no tragedy or raptureI would bathe in a world of sensationLove, goodness and simplicity(While violated and imprisoned by technology)
The thought of my family's graves was the only momentI used to experience true loveThat love remains infinite,As I'll never be the man my father is
How can you "just be yourself"When you don't know who you are?Stop saying "I know how you feel"How could anyone know how another feels?
Who am I to judge a priest, beggar,Whore, politician, wrongdoer?I am, you are, all of them already
Dear child, stop working, go playForget every ruleThere's no fear in a dream
Is there a village inside this snowflake?A child asked meWhat's the colour of our lullaby?
I've never been so close to truth as thenI touched its silver lining
Death is the winner in any warNothing noble in dying for your religionFor your countryFor ideology, for faithFor another man, yes
Paper is dead without wordsInk idle without a poemAll the world dead without storiesWithout love and disarming beauty
Careless realism costs souls
Ever seen the Lord smile?All he care for the world made Beautiful a sad man?Why do we still carry a device of torture around our necks?Oh, how rotten your pre-apocalypse isAll you bible-black fools living over nightmare ground
I see all those empty cradles and wonderIf man will never change
I, too, wish to be a decent manboy but all I amIs smoke and mirrorsStill given everything, may I be deserving
And there forever remains the change from G to Em