Things We Lost in the Fire

The morning after
The smell of fate
Hanging heavy over me
The wisps are all that remain
And through the smoke
I see
The ephemeral space between
Reality as we like to see it
And reality as it looks
Sometimes, just sometimes...

In the dead calm
Lit up by the sunrise
That you and me never
Thought would ever come
We stand there, hand in hand
And find, and stumble on to,
And count, and try to wash
With our tears, with our kisses
The things we lost in the fire

I think there, in the corner
Is a thought you once gave me
One that I played with for a week
And then it must have fallen
Behind the table on which
I keep all my frivolities
Last night, I found it again
After the walls fell

Over there, next to where the bed was
Is the sound of the laughs you
Gifted to me on my birthday
The ones that I accepted without
Even knowing who it was
Who was making those minutes
Pinpricks on my memory, on the day
There came a fire, I never did know

On my desk, you had left
The stories of books you never read
And scraps of mischief that you threw
At me, those that I laughed at the futility of
I couldn't have been more wrong
We shall see, I had said
And I am seeing, but not what I was
Expecting to see. Looking in at you
Through this glass cage, that somehow
Survived the fire

And in that cage is something I may never lose
Try as hard as I might, maybe never, ever
I don't think I ever noticed it before
But it was always there, holding the essence
Of you, of me and of every one of us
Sitting amidst the embers, tarnished but unhurt
Something that the fire couldn't touch
The losses, we shall count in the days
Oh the days that shall stretch out for long
Defying the pulls of time

But there's one thing that
We didn't lose in the fire.
And I will keep it close to me
But don't you worry, dear friend
If I hesitate to come near it today
I'll be back tomorrow...
To take home with me,
The priceless nugget
I found after the fire.

Dedicated, with love and a profound sense of insignificance and humility, to you. Shine on, forever.

Spinning Yarns from the Darkness

come and play
a game of make-believe
with me tonight

what's that?
you can't be here
hey, that's all right...

i'm going to tell
you all the rules
and top it off with
"rules are for fools"

just the right amount
of bravado, of disdain
aided and abetted by the
deliciously faithless refrain

sing along with me
the miserable, the angry
the deluded yearning to be free

rule number one
take everything as it comes
rule number two
is the rule of the ones

one is the number
of answers you will take
one is the number
of people you're not allowed to break

so go on, go on
shoot those dreams, up into the sky
expect nobody to ask, how're you gettin' by
admit no pain, all guilt you must deny
hell, crashing to the ground
is the price of wanting to fly

and when we meet in the morning
we won't need any mirrors
each man to his own, he shall
decide losers and winners

when you've had your fill
of epiphanies and obituaries
come to the clearing in the wood
while the fallen head to the cemeteries

there we'll have a bonfire big and bright
no better place to put those stained
souls and clothes tattered in the fight
hey, you're ready again to head into the night
to turn yesterday's wrongs into some right

does anguish have a memory for names?
does time smother the cinders, or does it fan the flames?
does tomorrow's repentance equal yesterday's shame?
do you forget the grudges, or do you preserve the pain?
do you want to know what made you what you became?
come, let's play the game
hell, yeah...let's get back to the game.

DUI: Disclosing Under the Influence

they ask me where i came from
and i keep a story handy in my pocket
i tell them of the stuff that gets me going
and a wee bit of that which makes me fret

i tell them of people i once knew
and of folks that are keepin' me afloat
then there's the polite and the perfunctory
like where i got the dough to pay for my coat

and there's some about the places i've been
throw in a little about things dusted an' done
the sights that i dream of and the songs that i sing
and how i came to believe that gods there are none

as the evening gets soaked in some fine spirits
it gets harder and easier as we drain the keg
harder to stand, easier to lie,'cause all of ya know
a lie's got no need for a goddamn leg

and from there on does the memory fade
the storyteller in me takes over, the stage is set
i find him telling me stories i'd never believe
kinda hard to believe what you see is what you get

as the dam closes on the stream for the day
and the lights are turned on all around
it's an eerie buzz in my ears and a cold wind in my face
that starts the guessing as suspicions merrily abound

i dig into that pocket of mine
the one that i keep my story in, ya know
what i come up with looks vaguely familiar
but oh um er, what have i done now

there's a story to be told, for sure
and it's mighty useful to have told it before
but the storyteller needs discretion in matters of lore
for the wrong tales told may well cause furore
and so tonight i let them get their foot in the door
darn him - for a month, i'm seeing that barman's face no more!