Bent Lines -- The Muse Mongers Motel Poetry Archives

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Subject: Bent Lines

Author:
andy

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Date Posted: 22:50:46 01/14/08 Mon

Bent Lines

I'm hungry for something
something more than the
cheesecake days of your horizons
your clock ticking the same time
below the slow beats
of soft winds tapping blues
in quarter-tones of bent rain

Last night
I watched the neanderthal man
privately on public TV
as the boy that still live in me
cried out "Caveman get your girl"
some scientist screening ancient soil
in search of our dead past
like pieces to some jigsaw puzzle
we connect the dots
then arc the lines to our persuasions
to keep our faith in ourselves alive

We are all some form of hybrid
something less than perfect
still so incomplete

My daughter say's she's cool with that
now that she's old enough
to know how hard it is
to walk down a straight line

And I swear that TV preacher's crazy
screaming "Jesus" all the time
even God needs a break from our insanity
for he's forever breathing
the cloud dust of our insecurities
that rattles brains and blinds
the beacons of old souls

It's a long walk from right to wrong
though it's just a choice away
some quick thought that leads
fast to some decision
later to reflect the sun
in pools of mud
and ponds of plenty

All is fine here
so long as you believe her
so long as she convinces you
that what you know
is not what you know
so long as that controlling knave
learns to conquer his own fear
or maybe it's better
just to leave them be
and watch them from a distance
but, don't take it all too seriously
or, you'll be sending checks
to that damn preacher
with his lip sins stained
black, behind bought teeth

I'll catch you there
out on the edge of town
where the dreamers
round up another reason
for chasing nothing more
than something that lives inside
something more than
the geometry of the stars;

more like the bending
of arced lines connecting dots
in a backyard playground
hidden in the white light
behind the boiling sun

ajs

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