“god is mean”

just feel the earth and feel the trick
the ground is rough and roses scorn
i knew the rose was red with thorns
but i only thought of roses,
not thorns and bloody pricks
the books were paper made and told
of streams in mountains, beautiful
so i lived to walk near valley river
i found it was cold, and poses
a harm just like the quivering red of roses
i feel the world has made me mean
i did not want to be this way
and god made me, and all i’ve seen
he was perfect and made me mean
you’d think that easy would define this all
and eden is not just a story dead
but more beautiful than roses red
oh how i wish that god weren’t mean
oh how i wish that it were true
i would believe, i would love him much
but i have seen hate,
and proven through
it’s not so easy, in a book
it’s not so easy, why is it not?
it’s not so easy, even this book
is made from dying tree which seen
the awful madness of god’s perfect mean

“mason learning”

behind the evening embers
we’re all embittered, at a cost
the harmony, soliloquy
is frozen by the frost
entitle one to hold the thrown
and grasp with dying breath
the ice to feel, the knee to kneel
cold cold hearts to cause an early death

every child who walks upon the earth we know has thoughts
“what do i do upon the leaves?” young mason learning cries
“i see the reason, but i may tell, the feeling that this brought”
“oh won’t one tell me, what they feel” upon the leaves he lies
“its just a time, am young not dying, but in this time i am caught”

he had a thought, just yesterday, and asked himself to reason
who he does have to lie in leaves, in autumn amber season
this time around, along the ground, foli-age is bright and blue
but year before, we knew no more, yet maple pages true
had come on when, the sun again, shown how it’ll always do

“so what am i” learning mason cries, “am i but a page?”
“to come and fall, just like them all, and wither with my age?”
“but they go fast, they melt away, and still i am here to stay”
“or so it seems, that’s all it seems, until my winter day.”

“a thought to sean from germany”

what could we have done
i know it seems as though i don’t beg this question enough
or i don’t care
i thought of this tonight sean
it hurts me more than i can imagine
and that is a horrible feeling
you know i always feel so able, capable, powerful
there is so much i can do sean,
but i come to realize sometimes that there is one thing i can’t
i think you have helped me find this too
you know how summer is out front with any small accomplishment
and then breaks down and cries, because she knows she has someone to cry to?
i can’t do this, i don’t know why
it is so far away from what i am, that when i try to think about it
i don’t even understand what i am trying to consider
the only question i have asked myself this last year, and been unable to answer
is, who do i have to cry to?
i am not sure if i have an answer, i don’t think so
then i wonder, do you really need someone to cry to?
is that just another thing that we all assume we need, because so many do?
i don’t know
i cried to my parents,
but never really because i was so worried about something that it brought me to tears
just because i was young and concerned with some trivial matter
now everything seems fickle and fixable
or i just don’t care, i want to tell the whole world to go fuck off
and at the same time embrace it
but, it really does bother me that i have to leave
our lives will never be what they have been
you know, the best years of your life are these years, my life
and now their gone
gone
so many things will be gone, so many
people, thoughts, dollars and loves
so who do you have to cry to?
what place to you have to get attached to?
i have determined that thoughts are good, dollars bad
lovers worthwhile, and people invaluable
you know, when they want to kill someone
someone’s mind
they put them in solitary confinement
away from all other people
and it kills them
and that’s all we are, something so vulnerable that if isolated, we are killed
we are so vulnerable
so what if you lived inside your head, for years, alone
the only things allowed are thoughts, not people
i don’t become attached, i don’t require people
because of that i feel as if i don’t deserve their pity on me in my times of trouble
i feel that i don’t deserve this
and this is so innate to my soul, if untouched, by people
it would be me, permanently,
this is how i would feel, forever
i have yet to meet a woman who took the time to make me deserve her
i have met you sean
and you were able to do this
you are the only one,
you allow me to connect and reflect
somehow there is something in your character
someone i want to talk to
because maybe it will be a very long time before i allow something other than thoughts in my head
but you bring me a peace sean, not many people are talented enough to help me
that’s my job
to help people
i don’t know if we are more talented than anyone else sean
i think we are
i think there is something good and powerful in what i have taught you
i hope so
but i must ask you one favor
i don’t ask many big favors, if any
you see, i don’t leave people
it would hurt me more than them
so i am very good to my friends
and i have been very good to you, and jameson, and skylar
but i must ask you this favor as the person i trust most
for all i have ever asked in return for all my good
is acknowledgment that it all meant something
and yet i find myself very afraid
afraid that my friends won’t put as much into me,
as i put into them
please don’t let this happen sean
it is the only thing that hurts me
please do for me what i would have done
that would make this all much easier.

“waiting for the midnight-post”

it seems as though we’re moving faster
and our thoughts and springs create
we wonder, thoughts appear we ponder
the wild springs deer, and moves on great
while we burn past and hum a tune
a tune you know and i do to
of when i felt like me and you
i worried none and sleep came quickly
now i am one but young and sickening
and spirits come, and they i love
i know i see them , and listen close
they tell the stories of the ghosts
and me of past, who lived morose
and believed in how to love
i believe, and others gasp
i hold them tight i clasp their hand
that one whose come is gone again
i lose a love, and loves are lost
we feel the cold the bitter frost
and the light it melts within
i see the fogs stopped rolling in
while i am rolling on, a softened tune
a worried man, an unwed groom
who speaks to spirits, and loves the ghosts
and trembles when he loves the most
who fades away, each passing day
to watch the midnight post