61 IS A NUMBER ATE SHORT OF THIS WEEKS EXCITING EPISODE OF RETURN TO SWALLOW FALLS: THE MUSICAL

what room was i in?

one door down from the sound of my sanity melting into the sunset

room 16

could be an allusion

would be an illusion 

should be a conclusion 

but it is a concussion 

or a submission 

for there is shit in this prescription 

-and i need a refill

i'm cracked don't you know?

a broken token

a soul forgotten 

flowing in the gutter to a treatment plant of synthetic anthemic nonsense

hey, isn't that keith emerson's cat? (poetic callback)

room 16

could be vibrations 

would be variations 

should be complications 

but only insinuations

or an investigation 

for there is gold in this passion 

-and my bank account is never overdrawn 

it wasn't a room

never was

i was in your mind

in the palace of secrets 

the palace vault...i picked the lock and treasure erupted...i danced in the dark shadows of your crown jewel and drank the nectar of your madness 

and in the frenzy of exploration i burst into...

...what room was i going to?

SHE BLINDED ME WITH POETRY (THE SCIENCE OF CREATING WORLDS OF WORDS)

you rang the bells of damnation 

you rang the bells to remind me

and i raised an army to mystify you

you sang the song of passion

you sang the song to incite me

and i danced in the gallows to glorify you

there is a fire that burns enterally 

there is a desire that consumes reality

there is an infinite orgasm of cosmic uncertainty 

and i love you 

-oh my precious words...how have i missed you

SHE NEVER GOT TO TELL JIMI SHE WAS INDEED EXPERIENCED

have you ever unraveled shag carpet?

if you have...

imagine taking all that carpet string and wading it into a loose ball-

now, imagine that the ball of carpet string is spinning-

ok, good...

tell me what you see when you look through that loose, spinning ball of carpet string 

it would be just like that

maybe that's why i'm so hard to love or why i love too hard

or do i love make hard?

or do i hard make love?

or do i love too hard make?

the drips of the sink shatter into piano tones inside my soul

oh these trumpets of whispered erotica release me into a waterfall of unrelenting groove

and now you know how easy i am to love

these principles of being simply slow and shiveringly deliberate must always be cloaked in the mists of uncertainty 

certainly mentally ribbed for your pleasure and certifiably certain of bringing out the island in your stream

but i have but one question-

are

you...

have you ever been

are you... expensive

REMIND ME NEXT TIME (ANOTHER NIGHT IN)

these swimming in jello moments when all my lifetimes come crashing at me in hyper driven rush of remastered sounds

almost taunting me

a near collision of disastrous out of time brush strokes 

almost haunting me

these flat eq'd symphonies of grand expectations i wrote in negative harmony 200 years ago falling around my ears

almost soothing me

a treasure chest of train whistles inside of the vacuum of climax

almost remembering me

and just to make you wonder...

this is where a random bassoon solo would go

(i've never met a bassoon player)

these spaces in the distance of retro-baroque melancholy hold me in a passion for a single purple note

almost drowning me

a cat possessed by the drunken ghost of kieth emerson dropped on a piano

almost toppling me

these pre-hays epic movies with singing breasts and dancing penises i directed at the end of a decade long night

almost arousing me

a smoothie of poisonous fruits mixed with a wah peddle and garnished with the color of a conjunction 

almost fortifying me

these places in the timeline of an endless loop of TV themes i wrote in a cave under the tree of isolation 

(i have met a dulcimer player)

but this is where the accordion solo goes

because you know why...

**this is exactly where ralph cramden walks in and tells me that i am a mental case**

but i do enjoy rolling around in this swimming pool full of angel hair pasta

a fallacy of intimacy i decided to type one night

almost saving me

an ode to the seagulls of chaos who remind us that if you eat the eyes of a soul you will pass this into oblivion as well

oh well...

i tried to love you in the shade of melody and somehow lost the tune

these swimming in jello moments i finally captured in your mind

one of you should remind me next time to type

THE FORMER I IS UNSEEN IN THE WIND OF REGRET

i walked a million miles of wall and wire to carry a dream to that far shore

the frightened cries of a thousand nights still echo in the valleys and over the moonlight mountains 

…and still i march on

it was a still surrender under a pale new sky when these words flew past the horizon of my shame

burdens of boredom and rivers of pain hide when the fall begins

…and still i march on

there are children in windows watching foxes argue over portions of my soul knowing not when bellies in the house of despair will be filled

for there is no hope in the pockets of a broken fool

…and still i march on

dissonance falls from my keyboard as I struggle to keep step with this new time signature while fumbling to find the key of a song i don't remember writing when the journey was new

…and still i march on

march on…

because the body seldom knows the heart has faded

a fable will rise from this terminal night

in a future not yet born i will deja vu another authorless poem

…and once again i will march on

march on…

only you and the former i will ever know

ONE NIGHT IN THE COSMIC DISCO OF BEING A PHANTASM

in the twilight of a night you thought would never arrive the sound of trumpets swirled around the first sparkle of the evening stars and you fell to your knees

it could never sound the same as before when the drums filled your senses and drew you to an altar built on the dust of another universe long ago dead

this was the warning given to you by a madman who slipped into your conscience from a dream that a sleeping genius had one drunken night when he conceived a destroyer of worlds 

absence is a worthless messenger and a poor excuse for time that trickles out of the swirling cosmos of a world yet born in reckless abandon of your fantasies gone rogue

now you struggle to rise and greet the mist of your own mortality that creeps into your burning lungs

this is the decadence of your request and it will burn you in the flames of the pursuit of a poison you could never taste

too late to turn away

too late to turn away

memorized and hypnotized by the passion of this quest you will die in a climax of desire that will haunt worlds until the end of time

too late to turn away

too late to turn away

the seed now planted deep in the womb of imagination as you feel the blood of sacrifice rush from the cave mystery you defiled on a whim

the ghost of vacancy will exact punishment for the crime and all creatures great and small will wither and die in the sunrise of your execution

BALLAD OF A WORD MAN

 it's a shiver of truth babe that you can't resist

a nugget in the nougat of a spoiled milk cake

at eighteen you woke me

in seventeen you broke me

and now i live with words i cannot shake

is this the question to the answer or a new noir twist

either way i'm damned to a black and white fate

close the door

turn out the light

for the next verse i think i'll come in late

ballad of a word man who lied and cried and died

but damned if he hadn't too many times already tried