deux dans cinéma

they went to watch
the life they wished to live
together their's had dripped away
while all the real living
disappeared in days
days gone by
days not done
day notes of cricket
And beauty sold the ticket
I should have bought one
or said to the beauty
before we get old
will you write in reality
 a tale to tell the old?
all this light for lenses
project on the screen
to the hilt of the knife
Life! all the way life,
into forever beam

Le détective masqué

No one could see what he sees
no one could see him seeing
peering over Parisian news print paper
he was watching everyone
paying attention to everything
he saw them all
solving his mystery's call
standing still as the shadow's tree
only I could see him
wondering...
did he see me?

a head instead

no one knew about the two people walking inside his head
stirring with dust and ash
the loveless eyeball extraction
left him for dead
but he remembered his action
and rose from his bed
to carry on shoulder, his excellent bolder
and in his dreadful path
continued instead 

No Lyon

a shut door
the strange distant shore
desolate city bound
longing for the fearless friend
longing to the scraping end
what was lost
to be found,
evermore

Still, on the Stone Streets

Far from Detroit
feathers that fall
the spirit returns
in resurrection waves
then with peace,
when with power
like the resonance of the smell of electric memory
forming the shapenote
of  forever
indestructible
song,
the sealed soul
and her strange new morning place
far from rubber on road
and the spilled night time gasoline,
 all still,
on the stone streets

For my days are consumed like smoke...

I am like a pelican of the wilderness

I am like an owl of the desert

words from that one hundred and second psalms

 ...and thy years shall have no end

...and the dog by his side

he kneels in the dark
in the shadow of the spires
in the passes by of liars
bones bent over stone
and streets dim with despair
his empty hands waits
and wants
and longs
his heart a silent bell
tolling and unknown hell
hidden by the city gates
beating out a sound
a humbled pride
one day will abound
and the dog by his side

circles unbroken
life is full of perceptions of disconnection,
but it's all circles,
though the clocks are sometimes not wound as tightly,
and we are all made of gears of varying degree,
and when the new moon is put rightly,
all these moments circles back to thee. 

Strange? yes it is and was, even we climbed the stairs,
or when I too walked in Prague, and you were there... 

Inxs-Never Tear us Apart (complete version)

from steps in LA
to stones and bones of CZ