The
Emperor, the Chalice, and the Throne
Let's write for the critics of tomorrow
Let's ignore what the world says
Let's organize the world into two groups:
Those who know and those who don't
The sweet taste of victory
Will be yours,
will be yours Finally, you are the emperor
So welcome home
Here is your chalice, here is your throne
You're never gonna whore yourself out for the money
You won't ever suffer
to and slog it out to pay my bills
Maybe you're too happy, but the mansion
will be yours; you will get across
Envision this: Gatsby-Dylan-Brown-Stones-Van-Boss
Finally, you are the emperor
So welcome home
Here is your chalice, here is your throne You
only have to succeed the last time
The intellectuals of ever after will know
This kind of failure is not a crime
We know the ceremony of blood and sepulcher
is just for show Finally, you are the emperor
So welcome home
Here is your chalice, here is your throne
Nothing Is Abnormal
Nothing left to say
Nothing left to build
Scale it down, do the work
Life is uncertain, no reason to smirk
Expect
everything
Nothing is abnormal Wallace
Wallace, I know your artistry is rare
I look in the mirror and comb my hair
Your book by the banister, the dust
on the stair My lover is lost in her easy chair
No one can sing the world as you do
Wallace, you're a kind soul
No one
can make me get drunk as you do
Wallace, thank you for your inspiration
Cancer March 22nd, Saturday
The best of times, the worst of times
Doctor, doctor am I OK?
Indeed,
the best things are defined By the worst things
The telephone rings
My high bouncing lover
Helps me stay sane
Cancer comes
And you can't know
The way it marbles
Into the brain
The French Romantic
Whose sister died young
Lets a melodramatic idea
Roll off his tongue
This is art
Cancer cuts your heart
But life is short
Theirs is a stop
and a start Cancer comes
Cancer grows
Makes the mind wonder
What it really knows
What good are all of Plato's ideas
About the noble faculties of the soul?
When cancer comes
And cancer grows
On Being Present I've made my distinctions
I've found my philosophy
Between logic and art I've built a fence
And
it has been my best defense Now I look at buildings
I admire the beauty
I note the form
I drive away with a feeling so warm
On Fading Health
When health has betrayed us
We just want to cry
Everything is out of
balance
And we can't say why
We return to our haunts,
Older and
wiser now
The fantasy is gone,
Our haunts are empty somehow
On Getting Older I returned to the college
library
And took a look around
It was no longer the same
Here is
what I found
I've heard that this part of life
Is far more rewarding
But it's not
It's empty and vacuous
Those lips I tasted - so sweet
That perfume, so strong
The beauty of a woman - so soft
It sucked me
in from across the room
Now it is gone and I can't recall its grace
That
is worse than remembering it clearly
But not experiencing it
God, why
do you insist on forsaking us?
And taking away all things
That made
this world seem like a cool place? Dare to
be Different Dare to be different
Sniff
the roses
The slaving wheel of time churns
Carving out some secret map
That stays hidden
It creeps up, like a dream
The Worst Tragedy What is the worst tragedy
you could imagine?
Let's admit that it's there
You see the beautiful
world
Carved up on a platter
Parcel it out, a smatter and smatter
The state of so and so, they constantly chatter
What is the worst?
To
be second rate?
To be a vengeful foe of fate?
Circumspect?
The rhyme congregates
I soil the April grass
I'm not a flower
Who am I afraid of?
Where did they all come from?
What is their collective
name?
Every time I identify them
The id puts it to shame
Is it so bad to walk up to someone in a bar
And have them not care to talk
to you?
Is that so bad? What does that say?
Is it so bad to not want
to talk to someone in a bar? The worst tragedies
disappear eventually Entries and Exits
Enter stage left
The production is bereft
Of the kind of incense and procession
That caused the playwright's
Grand digression
Goodbye to wisdom
Goodbye to what's next
This is it
A light that's
bright
Though it's a flame That won't last the night
Enter stage left
Exit stage right In a Bad Space
Fear
Worry
Lack of control
Specters that are always there
Now
they cancel out the air
Now they're in the forefront
I hate them
I
abhor them
I loathe them The First Feelings
I wish I felt like I did the first time I
played piano
Or developed a crush
Even early depression
And blue moods
Had a quality of excitement and hopefulness
Getting drunk's no fun
Because
I can't remember all the angles
Only a conservative mind frame works
With
a small place for self-expression
On The Fire that Burns Between Us I know
I must be an idiot
In someone's eyes
I find that I get careless Don't
make enough time
To appreciate your company
Or your mind
I'm not so
rational
I'm almost drunk
I've lost my compass
But retained my spunk
It's a mixed blessing
It's a beautiful curse
Not sure what is better
And what is worse Foggy
Head is foggy
Feeling tired
Don't want alcoho
l Want to be wired
Tired of junk food and crap TV
Want to relax by the Seine
In the fairy
tale of Paris Maybe some food would be better
Than concoctions of sugar and coffee
Working 12 hr days doesn't help
There
is a better fate for you and me
We'll be able to see
When this wretched
phase has passed
When things aren't so foggy | 
