flurry

05/01/2012 § Leave a comment

*
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she’s half crazy But that’s why you want to be there And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China And just when you mean to tell her That you have no love to give her Then she gets you on her wavelength And she lets the river answer That you’ve always been her lover And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that she will trust you
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.

And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said “All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them” But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you’ll trust him
For he’s touched your perfect body with his mind.

Now Suzanne takes your hand And she leads you to the river She is wearing rags and feathers From Salvation Army counters And the sun pours down like honey On our lady of the harbour And she shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers There are heroes in the seaweed There are children in the morning They are leaning out for love And they will lean that way forever While Suzanne holds the mirror And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that you can trust her
For she’s touched your perfect body with her mind.

 

Her heart on her tongue

04/06/2012 § Leave a comment

Jesus died for somebody’s sins but not mine
meltin’ in a pot of thieves
wild card up my sleeve
thick heart of stone
my sins my own
they belong to me, me

people say “beware!”
but I don’t care
the words are just
rules and regulations to me, me

I walk in a room, you know I look so proud
I’m movin’ in this here atmosphere, well, anything’s allowed
and I go to this here party and I just get bored
until I look out the window, see a sweet young thing
humpin’ on the parking meter, leanin’ on the parking meter
oh, she looks so good, oh, she looks so fine
and I got this crazy feeling and then I’m gonna ah-ah make her mine
ooh I’ll put my spell on her

here she comes
walkin’ down the street
here she comes
comin’ through my door
here she comes
crawlin’ up my stair
here she comes
waltzin’ through the hall
in a pretty red dress
and oh, she looks so good, oh, she looks so fine
and I got this crazy feeling that I’m gonna ah-ah make her mine

and then I hear this knockin’ on my door
hear this knockin’ on my door
and I look up into the big tower clock
and say, “oh my God here’s midnight!”
and my baby is walkin’ through the door
leanin’ on my couch she whispers to me and I take the big plunge
and oh, she was so good and oh, she was so fine
and I’m gonna tell the world that I just ah-ah made her mine

and I said darling, tell me your name, she told me her name
she whispered to me, she told me her name
and her name is, and her name is, and her name is, and her name is

I was at the stadium
There were twenty thousand girls called their names out to me
Marie and Ruth but to tell you the truth
I didn’t hear them I didn’t see
I let my eyes rise to the big tower clock
and I heard those bells chimin’ in my heart
going ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong.
ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong
counting the time, then you came to my room
and you whispered to me and we took the big plunge
and oh. you were so good, oh, you were so fine
and I gotta tell the world that I make her mine make her mine
make her mine make her mine make her mine make her mine

and the tower bells chime, “ding dong” they chime
they’re singing,

“You died for somebody’s sins, honey, but not mine.”

http://www.fileden.com/files/2011/1/11/3056849//Smith-Patti_Poetry-Project_12.25.71_15-Jesus-Christ.mp3%20

Hourglass

09/15/2010 § Leave a comment

My life is measured by this glass, this glass
By all those little Sands that thorough pass

See how they press, se how they strive, which shall
With greatest speed and greatest quickness fall
See how they raise a little Mount, and then
With their own weight do levell it agen
But when they have all got thorough, they give over
Their nimble sliding down, and move no more
Just such is man whose hours still forward run
Being almost finished ‘ere they are begun;
So perfect nothings, such light blasts are we
That ere we are ought at all, we cease to be
Do what we will, our hasty minutes fly
And while we sleep, what do we else but die?
How transient are our Joys, how short their day!
They creep on towards us, but flie away
How stinging are our sorrows! where they gain
But the least footing, there they will remain
How groundless are our hopes, how they deceive
Our childish thoughts, and only sorrow leave!
How real are our fear! they blast us still
Still rend us, still with gnawing passions fill;
How senseless are our wishes, yet how great!
With what toil we pursue them, with what sweat!
Yet most times for our hurts, so small we see
Like Children crying for some Mercury
This gapes for Marriage, yet his fickle head
Knows not what cares wait on a Marriage bed
This vowes Virginity, yet knows not what
Loneness, grief, discontent, attends that state
Desires of wealth anothers wishes hold’
And yet how many have been choaked with Gold?
This only hunts for honour, yet who shall
Ascend the higher, shall more wretched fall
This thirsts for knowledge, yet how is it bought?
With many a sleepless night and racking thought
This needs will travell, yet how dangers lay
Most secret Ambuscados in the way?
These triumph in their Beauty, though it shall
Like a pluck’t Rose or fading Lillie fall
Another boasts strong arms, alas Giants have
By silly Dwarfs been draged unto their grave
These ruffle in rich silk, though ne’re so gay
A well plumed Peacock is more gay than they
Poor man, what art! a Tennis ball of Errour
A ship of Glass, tossed in a Sea of terrour
Issuing in blood and sorrow from the womb
Crawling in tears and mourning to the tomb
How slippery are thy paths, how sure thy fall
How art thou Nothing when thou art most of all!

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