The Flow and the Ebb
This is possibly the weirdest poem I've ever "written." This is what happens when I read Wikipedia entries on William S. Burroughs...
"The Flow and the Ebb"
Hoping you won’t try to take the fall:
hopes, cares, all lie now bare, plundered…
Did I feel your arms around me?
Happier than the way you treat me kind…
There's a lot to life that you cannot plan.
'Cause she's leaving me in thirteen days,
My life, my mind, myself.
And your touch fans a spark:
Now you open yours and you finally see
That the hero doesn't always win the fight.
Just a tug and it unravels
Across the new grass.
And I barely even got to know her.
She was in with the out crowd, the one that's really in.
Breathe a little clearer when you're around.
I would not take it back,
The way you talk
You and everything you are.
In her room, I decided to be a gentleman.
Forget 'em by tomorrow- it's nothing new.
(Welcome him in the joy of Spring):
You don’t know what you want and you don’t really care,
But it's too damn easy to keep bein' scared.
You're here all the time.
The kind with a cap instead of a click.
Already the world is covered in frost
For the curtain call and tonight's bows,
Marking my passage, if nothing else.
Watching the rain pour past them,
Guiding them, driving them in rhythmic motion:
Got damn near all I could want right here.
I'm up against the bathroom stall.
I could be walking down the street with you.
But I guess that wasn't true,
And I'd be happy to say our time is done at last…
The next time it's alright.
The fact is that neither one of is over;
So maybe I should have known
I could be driving in Forest Park.
I grew up with sense and I grew up with heart.
Let's face facts, it'll never happen again
Over the car's radio. Watching the slick oils,
He'll find a way to make money.
Grant me good food, and good drink,
Streetlights on the wet street outside,
set off my fire alarms,
And offer praise to Galahad.
But with just a tug will unravel…
Bond the equinox to the solstice,
Climb the five feet down to the floor:
An unnaturally blue soda
From my father, his daily stops at the gas station
of breakfast cereals and cases of off-brand cola.
Hurt came from edges and boundaries.
"Life without regrets."
We are the flow and we are the ebb.
We are the weavers, we are the web.
UPDATED VERSION FOR 10/25/2007
"The Flow and the Ebb"
I’m hoping you won’t try to take the fall:
your hopes, cares, all lie now bare and plundered…
Did I feel your arms around me?
Happier than the way you treat me kind…
There's a lot to life that you cannot plan.
She's leaving me in thirteen days,
my life, my mind, myself.
And your touch fans a spark:
now you open yours and you finally see
that the hero doesn't always win the fight.
Just a tug and it unravels
across the new grass.
I barely even got to know her.
She was in with the out crowd, the one that's really in.
I breathe a little clearer when you're around.
I would not take it back,
the way you talk
you and everything you are.
In her room, I decided to be a gentleman.
Forget 'em by tomorrow- it's nothing new.
(Welcome him in the joy of Spring):
You don’t know what you want and you don’t really care,
but it's too damn easy to keep being scared.
You're here all the time.
It’s the kind with a cap instead of a click.
Already the world is covered in frost
for the curtain call and tonight's bows,
marking my passage, if nothing else.
Watching the rain pour past them,
guiding them, driving them in rhythmic motion:
I’ve got damn near all I could want right here.
I'm up against the bathroom stall.
I could be walking down the street with you.
But I guess that wasn't true,
and I'd be happy to say our time is done at last.
The next time it's alright.
The fact is that neither one of is;
so maybe I should have known
I could be driving in Forest Park.
I grew up with sense and I grew up with heart.
Let's face facts, it'll never happen again
over the car's radio. Watching the slick oils,
He'll find a way to make money.
Grant me good food, and good drink,
streetlights on the wet street outside;
set off my fire alarms,
and offer praise to Galahad.
But with just a tug will unravel…
Bond the equinox to the solstice,
climb the five feet down to the floor:
An unnaturally blue soda
from my father, his daily stops at the gas station
of breakfast cereals and cases of off-brand cola.
Hurt came from edges and boundaries.
"Life without regrets."
Watching the tall grass far below waft in the breeze,
like a lover's fingertips;
The darker side of being,
a black-and-white Macintosh computer,
comics and toys and yearbooks.
Through the glass
he does not see that she has stayed behind,
though Sal has sent the occasional postcard
so they can be delivered to school in the morning.
But I never get the chance;
but it is bare, and I am dead.
I gave him to the care of another car.
She was going to be my bride to be.
Think of both.
The song tonight is "I've Got the World on a String,"
and above you the Bodhi tree;
I find no turns of phrase
(the throne of Lugh the sun king);
to think that one day, they had a son.
They happen again, and again,
the far travellers who once roamed these roads.
And yet I see her composure, her face a snide remark crouching in the grass.
We are the flow and we are the ebb.
We are the weavers, we are the web.
"The Flow and the Ebb"
Hoping you won’t try to take the fall:
hopes, cares, all lie now bare, plundered…
Did I feel your arms around me?
Happier than the way you treat me kind…
There's a lot to life that you cannot plan.
'Cause she's leaving me in thirteen days,
My life, my mind, myself.
And your touch fans a spark:
Now you open yours and you finally see
That the hero doesn't always win the fight.
Just a tug and it unravels
Across the new grass.
And I barely even got to know her.
She was in with the out crowd, the one that's really in.
Breathe a little clearer when you're around.
I would not take it back,
The way you talk
You and everything you are.
In her room, I decided to be a gentleman.
Forget 'em by tomorrow- it's nothing new.
(Welcome him in the joy of Spring):
You don’t know what you want and you don’t really care,
But it's too damn easy to keep bein' scared.
You're here all the time.
The kind with a cap instead of a click.
Already the world is covered in frost
For the curtain call and tonight's bows,
Marking my passage, if nothing else.
Watching the rain pour past them,
Guiding them, driving them in rhythmic motion:
Got damn near all I could want right here.
I'm up against the bathroom stall.
I could be walking down the street with you.
But I guess that wasn't true,
And I'd be happy to say our time is done at last…
The next time it's alright.
The fact is that neither one of is over;
So maybe I should have known
I could be driving in Forest Park.
I grew up with sense and I grew up with heart.
Let's face facts, it'll never happen again
Over the car's radio. Watching the slick oils,
He'll find a way to make money.
Grant me good food, and good drink,
Streetlights on the wet street outside,
set off my fire alarms,
And offer praise to Galahad.
But with just a tug will unravel…
Bond the equinox to the solstice,
Climb the five feet down to the floor:
An unnaturally blue soda
From my father, his daily stops at the gas station
of breakfast cereals and cases of off-brand cola.
Hurt came from edges and boundaries.
"Life without regrets."
We are the flow and we are the ebb.
We are the weavers, we are the web.
UPDATED VERSION FOR 10/25/2007
"The Flow and the Ebb"
I’m hoping you won’t try to take the fall:
your hopes, cares, all lie now bare and plundered…
Did I feel your arms around me?
Happier than the way you treat me kind…
There's a lot to life that you cannot plan.
She's leaving me in thirteen days,
my life, my mind, myself.
And your touch fans a spark:
now you open yours and you finally see
that the hero doesn't always win the fight.
Just a tug and it unravels
across the new grass.
I barely even got to know her.
She was in with the out crowd, the one that's really in.
I breathe a little clearer when you're around.
I would not take it back,
the way you talk
you and everything you are.
In her room, I decided to be a gentleman.
Forget 'em by tomorrow- it's nothing new.
(Welcome him in the joy of Spring):
You don’t know what you want and you don’t really care,
but it's too damn easy to keep being scared.
You're here all the time.
It’s the kind with a cap instead of a click.
Already the world is covered in frost
for the curtain call and tonight's bows,
marking my passage, if nothing else.
Watching the rain pour past them,
guiding them, driving them in rhythmic motion:
I’ve got damn near all I could want right here.
I'm up against the bathroom stall.
I could be walking down the street with you.
But I guess that wasn't true,
and I'd be happy to say our time is done at last.
The next time it's alright.
The fact is that neither one of is;
so maybe I should have known
I could be driving in Forest Park.
I grew up with sense and I grew up with heart.
Let's face facts, it'll never happen again
over the car's radio. Watching the slick oils,
He'll find a way to make money.
Grant me good food, and good drink,
streetlights on the wet street outside;
set off my fire alarms,
and offer praise to Galahad.
But with just a tug will unravel…
Bond the equinox to the solstice,
climb the five feet down to the floor:
An unnaturally blue soda
from my father, his daily stops at the gas station
of breakfast cereals and cases of off-brand cola.
Hurt came from edges and boundaries.
"Life without regrets."
Watching the tall grass far below waft in the breeze,
like a lover's fingertips;
The darker side of being,
a black-and-white Macintosh computer,
comics and toys and yearbooks.
Through the glass
he does not see that she has stayed behind,
though Sal has sent the occasional postcard
so they can be delivered to school in the morning.
But I never get the chance;
but it is bare, and I am dead.
I gave him to the care of another car.
She was going to be my bride to be.
Think of both.
The song tonight is "I've Got the World on a String,"
and above you the Bodhi tree;
I find no turns of phrase
(the throne of Lugh the sun king);
to think that one day, they had a son.
They happen again, and again,
the far travellers who once roamed these roads.
And yet I see her composure, her face a snide remark crouching in the grass.
We are the flow and we are the ebb.
We are the weavers, we are the web.