Kings Without Queens - 2001 Draft Pt. 1: \"goodbye\" (The Original Draft)

goodbye goodbye my love even though I never really held you I dreamed of you constantly in the deeply fabled night but then the morning came not to the setting sun-shore but to the deafening roar of a sultry lion roar you come and go and fluctuate in the masses I become the one you've always said worn the horn rim glasses but unbeknownst to you I creep closer to you with the ax we've come to feel the hair rush against the skin and then I laugh and say you know you look like Errol Flynn you ask where that came from I point to a Dylan album on the racks that was one of the rarest a time of perfect contentment without loss then he came the snake came and dwelt in your head and every time I look at you you just frown and say you're looking awfully dead and I just say a rolling stone gathers no moss it's the disarmament but then how can a blind boy or girl really actually see you're being led away from me in the capitalistic nihilism then you bury your fingernails into my flesh call it a schism locked fing prism it's a denied deity my deity it's the door without the key a stairwell coming from outside the shadows of mindless inactivity you smile again but not at me its him you see in the graveyard you bury the comb into my tomb and then leave looking like a stork flying to the sheavers so hard and to finish the rhyme and to give you some sense of our time its all emotionality down the main street of despair the flowers dying by your feet wish you'd quit walking the clowns have come from far and away to hear you breath they never thought your king (blasphemy lover) would let you go without leave the disappointment surges through the crowd when you resume your dismal talking they came just a little while for some sort of entertainment and the nature power universal flows seemingly not from your [trinket; fingers] lips opened in chasm but from the twitching and the betrayal your body's having those spasms and they turn away knowing this day all doubling will no be their wages but their rent now I see myself standing tall next to the dragoned-face midget shoving a thorn into his leg and with dismal conception the thought comes in from a far away place where once you did reside and now only in those comely havens we thought were happiness but now just illusions do you just hide so is it any surprise I've come into this town to order the keg had you been hear all along you would have known the direction I've taken it's the lovers and the sin and all we've engaged in that keeps coming to terms with our supposed enlightenment and sex obsession then I think I've just entered into a funk a repression or depression or recession I'm not sure which I watch you dance and run into the garden gnome dressed for yesterday's ball and knows you've been fakin' even before the supposed wise men could have second guess them with their beards and toiletries come talking of the planets hiding their own true side just like you the only primal interest is not evolution but how to save their hide and all you're intentions have been so buried underneath a whirl of self effacement and pain and even (dare I say it) gest you know it's the mockery kind and you just sit there looking thru a whole in a cantaloupe rind shallow to the point of no longer probably to any human intellect we come showing you this broken down style called a superhuman dialect to the love I've never had and the woman I've always held its for you and your jealous king mutilated genitalia movements and the superficial interest shall came back to you in all of your glorious shaved checklist moments a violation of form the attempt at humour comes off as badly as attempts at poetry we seek Shakespeare performed in alleyway parking lots and redwood thousands feet buried in the soil park ways I'll go to art and she cannot follow I'll go the film crew and the studio rehearsals and the intellectual fascists and wonder where all the freaks have gone and you're not hear and she's no longer caring and we come to terms with the departure of freak hood inactivity border lining on boredom we see the words float across the pages we try to communicate and we see the books sealed up not with words but with the escaping of meanings cells locked away its truth cannot not never ever be conveyed language inadequate and the two-wheeled gypsy queen rides there's a stolen line for you its all art not even mine art you mine for the meanings and all you can come up with is riddles its because you're gone and I'm here come across the void and we'd be lovers yet again every time you get pregnant we come to another screeching halt not that life can come from you you're just the image buried the bra strains not from the sexuality and love of your breast but the bursting of the maternity the eros of motherhood it's the mother earth an image of my mind being impregnate not by the semen of the penis but by the semen of artistic inspiration graphic and comical I remain to you who are but another image of me burst past tense ego shell we come together in the act of procreation two sides of one individual creating and creating hapless monsters and half-realised dreams and thoughts trying so hard to make an order and there's no room for laughs only for those of tears and sweat blood comes not from the veins but from the eyes blurring with life what we would otherwise stare at stoically and knowing only in each other does the strength lie to compel the other into the next generation subversion has no place for here are destiny shall be altered I come to you and you come to me and with a single touch we both are made free they call you and I the seeker and the destroyer all at once buried in the sounds of rock n roll and shaking the money makers showing the white temples that give us the courage to utter yet another world and give yet another genetic though not in the physical sense of course transmission into the next destination on this human traveling train we came to waste away our resources is what they say but we take them by the hands and feet and toss them to the lions the critics are blind and though they think they bite with the sharpness of all the fanged glory of nature we just look at each other and laugh because in this they bite with the harmlessness of an aged lion trite and unmovable but then the see not the truth but only more blindness and I just turn to kiss you yet again we're going to croon and make love underneath our memphis moon art duty shaking up and down and all around the squalid sexuality of this the twentieth century wasteland even in the day it seems so dim and we both know why the annihilation of 42nd street comes not as a shock but another dismal and abominable forte into the karaoke methods of Singapore euphoria it's the rambling fever and the caked-on ice that shelters us from the naysayers its you and I they're writing about but without understanding the words ring false not in their ears but ours yet another failure but the audience has been overestimated its art for arts sake a libertarian keeping singing yet another song about the gays in the military the moment is right and the shielding has began its for all the wrong reasons and all the wrong motivations but every time it comes to us they try to stab it down and spear it with comatose dead emotions and attempts to straitjacket us we must fly free free indeed Kings Without Queens Trilogy Poem 1: "goodbye"  (The Original Draft)Written October 26th, 2001 © on Oct 26 2001 05:44 AM PST, Michael Edward London    contemporary • dark • humor • love • lyrics • personal • sad • spiritual • thoughts • weird