Time is running out and so are my words

We are so glad you could make it
It is well understood
That your coming to us this moment
Is an unprecedented good
We need more of your kind in the fray
So don't just doff your cap
Say hello, walk away

The tides like our fingers have been crossed
For a while
The slim odds of the winners
Have grown thinner with each passing
mile
And if you ask me to repeat what I've said
I will smile
Because when something is spoken
It can't be replaced like a tile

The rain came down one day in a deluge
The Gods were too proud
And threw down their crowns in a rage
The writer with the crowd
Could not write the next page
And so with feet stepping loud
He walked onto the stage

The only thing that bothers him
About this new adventure
Is who will pay for his insurance
Should the plan reach its investiture?
There are few who would follow him
Out into the fray
But less in the meantime will give
him his pay

Your coming here gladdens us
And brings a tear to the eye
The way that it saddens us
Is that all good things must die
But that has ever been the case with the world
All sweet things must pass
Be they boy or be they girl

No comment

It has been eleven months of hardship
And of toil
And I've been the only one to trip
Up on spilt oil
That I left there the night before
When I was frying bread
But these are all burnt offerings
That I've kept inside my head

The druggist sold me cures
For sleeping without my soul
She said it looks like you've left it somewhere
Stuck up a tree or out on a midnight stroll?
But I said
I've been nowhere
Just around the city of the dead
And she said perhaps you should try to enjoy
Yourself more
Why not try the tree of life instead?

Then I walked to the doctor he said
Take no notice of her,
What you need is a good lawyer
To tell about the laws and lore
He said you need more stories my son
About how the good die young
And how the old are dressed as mutton
And how the lion lies down with the lamb

I left him then in the morning as the sun it began to shine
And she had said good luck to you
Before she said your place or mine
And after several Bloody Maries
And a few Save Our Souls
I retired to the prairies where
The lipgloss took control
She was only speaking of a certain
Weakness in a man
When I heard her preaching service
To the rolling caravan

A rolling stone gathers no moss
Or else that what I think I heard her say
The dust that gathered around the microphone
Was like desert sand across a long highway
In some places it is thicker
In others it's just blown away
By the wind that warms the hitchhikers
And moves them on their way

Mountains of Can

Well there's a mountain of can
Than we all must climb
And down in the valley
Is the man
Down in the river of rust
That river just rolls like a steamer
It takes all of the can from the dreamer
And it rusts it in him
Like an old dirty tin
Oh better believe he's a dreamer

Now back up the mountain of can he climbs
Never noticing the recycling van
Parked on the incline
He takes from his pocket
A stop watch full of time
But the can runs out too
Like a can -do in his prime
Now down to the valley of rust he might slip
If it wasn't for the clown
Who's watching his trips
And he lends him a hand
(Not the first time) but the second
And this stops him rolling all the way down
What a kind clown, the can clown kind

My Grand father's feet

I never did know about my grandfathers feet
Well they trudged through the snow
Now buried six feet deep
Well I never did know about my grandfathers feet

Well he had six wives, and made six women weep
I never did know about my grandfather's feet
They say he left them somewhere where down
In Mexico,
Well with the poisonous Ivy and the Indian way
I still hear them stepping in a southern comfort sway
Dancing the Tango like a chimney sweep
Well I never did know about my grandfathers feet

I never did know about my grandfather's feet
Some are like the railroad line
They just want to repeat
And others are like the stoned crows sitting on
a tree top seat
Well who ever should where he did go
On his grandfatherly feet?

Every corner of the city

In every corner of the city

There's something going down

Round every bend

Somebody is painting the town

Someone's making a friend

What they have in common 

That's how the story ends

In another corner of the city

The mourners parade

Someone is fishing casting his line

Someone is cycling the tunes doing fine

In every corner another person

Is calling a friend

But nobody knows how the story

Will end

There's a corner of this city

Where the gargoyles glare

Down from their posts

At the hell down there

And on another roof top

An Angel's hand to a man extends

But nobody knows how the story

Ends 

Another side of the wall 

the graffiti artists call

Their tags spread over an older

Picture

They scrape it off into dust

Layers of paint like imaginations rust

And attempts to say what they need to express

Nobody shouting or trying to impress

Like giving a little as a branch that bends

This how the story ends

Once in a blue moon

I saw you out on the blue moon
You came and went
and were gone too soon
Don't invent a reason for your absensence
Just put it down to too much scotch
vermouth or absinth
Nothing going on here,
nothing to see
For a time I was feeling queer
But of that feeling I am free

Lost again as if
As if I had some golden globe
That I could hold and keep near
Like adoration sold

Then I saw you smile like a missile
Through the room
It burst in a candle light
A wicker wax gloom
But the globe kept spinning around
As if a ball on a loom
And each Silver thread was spun
Turned into another moon

Blue was the colour
Then blood red
Then green
And from that I knew an absinth fairy near
Or else a Goblin queen
And she kept up her calling
Her temptation dream
And you were still there smiling
Like the cat who got the cream

Dandelion kiss

Everything felt like childhood
The stinging night does sing
About times that I have lost
And about songs that I did sing
The rocks are by the lily
And the stream flows to the sea
And each and every butterfly
Beats its wings to be free

Now the day is like a cumbersome
Toad that I must roll
All along the footpath that is made of gold
And she is like a flower
Growing by the road
I pick her for an hour
Before I blow away her soul

There are headlights in the evening
The foglights shining bright
And I stand up from the ceiling
To the morning's drowning light
French windows are blowing open
And the wind begins to call
These memories into being
From a world outside so cold

I hold her in my pocket
This flower of memory
And I will not forget her
Nor shall she forget me

The day is growing brighter
And the sun begins to shout
About the doors that we left open
When I decided to walk out
Ah but these slides are frozen
And the reel has turned on
And all the vases are broken
And now my flower is gone

Just one final word
Before I do pass on
The singing of the bird
In the lyrics of a song
She was like a Dandelion
Waving her crazy head
And I kissed her in the morning
Until I left her bed
So blow away my kisses
Like the seeds of a Dandelion head
The wind will take my thought dreams
To another land instead