Post by moseley on Apr 19, 2012 20:18:35 GMT -6
I have watered my black eyed susans
with a bucket of my tears
and fostered them in the silence of my reverie
wild flowers so corraled in my corner
that I have the souls of ten thousand mustangs
on a key chain in my pocket
and I have made so many fences,
it is no wonder that the tilled garden fails
to keep anything growing but
successful weeds
and my thoroughbreds are all out to wilt
not as they wilt or as I wilt
I have trimmed my stinking benjamins
to roll out like a fine line
of snorted snuff and I choke on the particles
but you cannot run from heartache
you cannot run to it, who the hell would
but here in this box, I cannot root
I cannot find living, but its not six feet deep
and its not closed
but I am closed....
like a seed that will not germ
how wet do it need to be to break that shell
or am I just the shell itself
wishing I was the chicken
or the yoke of an egg
or the yoke on some oxen
dragging the wagon forward.
with a bucket of my tears
and fostered them in the silence of my reverie
wild flowers so corraled in my corner
that I have the souls of ten thousand mustangs
on a key chain in my pocket
and I have made so many fences,
it is no wonder that the tilled garden fails
to keep anything growing but
successful weeds
and my thoroughbreds are all out to wilt
not as they wilt or as I wilt
I have trimmed my stinking benjamins
to roll out like a fine line
of snorted snuff and I choke on the particles
but you cannot run from heartache
you cannot run to it, who the hell would
but here in this box, I cannot root
I cannot find living, but its not six feet deep
and its not closed
but I am closed....
like a seed that will not germ
how wet do it need to be to break that shell
or am I just the shell itself
wishing I was the chicken
or the yoke of an egg
or the yoke on some oxen
dragging the wagon forward.
