the tattood man in prayer
i arrive
a student
a
guest
the tatood man
sits and stands
simultaneously
in his ever
changing
temple
of
temples
needles in our hands
ink at the ready
colors of
the japanese
skin fragrant
ready
for another
view
the firebird appears
brilliant sexy
inevitable
the sloth
sits on dry beer
sleeping
pretending a reading
of
tolstoy
the tattooed man
eases in
and
like ease
he reclines in his
memory pillow
he struggles with the notion
that
this is
is
almost over
almost transposed
a melody he has always
yearned for appears
extatic
he dreams
in a blink he has
inked his way
with knife and needle
burn and hilander
he
dreams of
her callused hands
the holy grail
of caring
her sleep
almost manly
fraught
with uneasy
dreaming
life
i watch her as i do
brando
as
i
study
gods
i hold her in my ever
like
a stand of wheat
in an evening
kansas
singing
sunbird
the tattoed man
is holding court with his
markings
hindsight
eats his rememberance
and
as always
w.b.
speaks:
"what once was
is
no more"
"what once was
is
no more"
the tatooed man knows
he is not to
be idolized
or
crossed out
or
imagined
he is
his photogaphs
he is his
snapshots
he thinks
what if the world held it's eye on
an idea
how would that
be
what about
peace
the tattoed man
sinks to his
rubber knees
he kisses the questionable earth
he wails and chants a song of
names
he
spreads
his arms to the above
he plants his feet on a stand of
slippery granite
he leaps onto
a huge limb
of
a
singular
gigantic
cherry tree
he lands on the branches
in the sun
he sings out
"far
far
far"
in a whisper
he chants out life
at a crossed
worn
sacred path
yyyeeeeaaaa hoooo
ya ya ya yaya
oooooo
yah haaa
heeee
oh you you you you you you
ahhhh heeeeeeee
my
heart holds much
my desire is great
my soul
is
iron john rising
stay
if you will
for just one more breath
one more breathing
of this holy
clear cool
air
one more glimps
at wonder
one more song
and singing
oh
my friends
oh yes
my friends
oh yes
a student
a
guest
the tatood man
sits and stands
simultaneously
in his ever
changing
temple
of
temples
needles in our hands
ink at the ready
colors of
the japanese
skin fragrant
ready
for another
view
the firebird appears
brilliant sexy
inevitable
the sloth
sits on dry beer
sleeping
pretending a reading
of
tolstoy
the tattooed man
eases in
and
like ease
he reclines in his
memory pillow
he struggles with the notion
that
this is
is
almost over
almost transposed
a melody he has always
yearned for appears
extatic
he dreams
in a blink he has
inked his way
with knife and needle
burn and hilander
he
dreams of
her callused hands
the holy grail
of caring
her sleep
almost manly
fraught
with uneasy
dreaming
life
i watch her as i do
brando
as
i
study
gods
i hold her in my ever
like
a stand of wheat
in an evening
kansas
singing
sunbird
the tattoed man
is holding court with his
markings
hindsight
eats his rememberance
and
as always
w.b.
speaks:
"what once was
is
no more"
"what once was
is
no more"
the tatooed man knows
he is not to
be idolized
or
crossed out
or
imagined
he is
his photogaphs
he is his
snapshots
he thinks
what if the world held it's eye on
an idea
how would that
be
what about
peace
the tattoed man
sinks to his
rubber knees
he kisses the questionable earth
he wails and chants a song of
names
he
spreads
his arms to the above
he plants his feet on a stand of
slippery granite
he leaps onto
a huge limb
of
a
singular
gigantic
cherry tree
he lands on the branches
in the sun
he sings out
"far
far
far"
in a whisper
he chants out life
at a crossed
worn
sacred path
yyyeeeeaaaa hoooo
ya ya ya yaya
oooooo
yah haaa
heeee
oh you you you you you you
ahhhh heeeeeeee
my
heart holds much
my desire is great
my soul
is
iron john rising
stay
if you will
for just one more breath
one more breathing
of this holy
clear cool
air
one more glimps
at wonder
one more song
and singing
oh
my friends
oh yes
my friends
oh yes
posted by Poet Guy @ 7:00 PM
0 comments
