Limbo
So ok I guess you win because I’ve had enough, I knew you were cheating but I was a fool to call your bluff, Hello again world give me freedom tonight, If my luck holds out I won't be around to see the morning light, This sorrow has kissed me full on the lips, Who ever thought such a hard fall could come from a few subtle slips, I’m all I know and nothing in the face of things, I saw the slight of hand in the magic and the awful smile it brings, All these questions make me feel like a wrong answer, All these elegant dancers make me fill like a lame dancer, If yesterday could just stay there and today could be history, Then maybe tomorrow could put an end to this mystery, But something has to die in the name of progress, All this complacency is just the surface of the distress, But every fool's paradise is a wise man's hell, But only the fools care to tell the tale, So let this be my duty and my new wife, If I can't make a living I’ll make a killing from this life.
Nice guys finish last if they can even finish at all, You’ve got to have a strong stomach and less of a walk than a crawl, You don’t give up you just lose your taste for trying, You lose your will for life and grow a fear for dying, So many years ago when I was a child, The stars were haunting and the world was wild, But now I haunt these streets just like a ghost, God is just the haunted as I wander thru the host, Who in his right mind would ever admit he was in his right mind, The shame is so well hidden but the shameless pride is easy to find, You can’t solve the problem with another problem but who knows, If you're gonna throw away the thorn you might as well throw away the rose, And here I am stuck in the middle of right and wrong, I know I’ve got to wait I just don’t know how long, I must have caused this effect in some kind of way, You can't change the past you can't touch the future and you can't live today.
Oct. 87
Small World
The silence has been broken, That has passed between us, Now these vows can be spoken, We are lost have you seen us, Many years have gone by now, And many more still to come, You dare ask why now, You are braver than some.
To me it’s a boundless universe, To you it’s such a small world, To me she’s a glorious woman, To you she’s just a little girl.
Your body beside mine, And the breath that she takes, As I watch for my sign, In the moves she makes, I fly with these torn wings, You won't even swim, I listen while she sings, A song for him.
To me it’s a boundless universe, To you it’s such a small world, To me she’s a glorious woman, To you she’s just a little girl.
She’s such a temptress, But her beauty is vague, She’s everyone’s mistress, She’s everyone’s maid, And her body is burning, For the thirst on your lips, But it’s you who are yearning, You feel the seam as it rips.
To me it’s a boundless universe, To you it’s such a small world, To me she’s a glorious woman, To you she’s just a little girl.
Aug. 85
Odd Numbers
In the far corner of the trinity forsaken by the god of hosts, Where the children of the square peg are still haunted by Job’s ghost, Symmetry fortifies the killer's pride of the brave, And yet there would be no master if there were no slave, The vague wind of circumstance blows from minute to hour, The bitterest seed that's sown reaps the sweetest flower, The richest souls are born into poverty for life, Some are hardened into stone some see thru the strife.
God’s ways are mysterious but not any more so than mans', Every one's caught a glimpse of a different set of master plans, For some the world is turning for others it is still, What can the victim say when he’s approached for the kill, The outside is looking in while the inside is looking out, Each faith only as strong as the desperation of doubt, The relative value wavers to and fro, Some will see it thru others will watch it go.
The biggest of ideas will be laughed about someday, There is only everything but that's for each to say, The equation is so precise yet it draws a question mark, It takes the knowledge of the light to be afraid of the dark, There’s a sucker born every minute or a reasonable facsimile of, Always on the receiving end when push comes to shove, And though the womb of the world is lined with sorrow, There still remains the inarticulate joy of tomorrow.
The lawless go around wondering who made the laws, Or wondering about the interpretation of a particular clause, There are those who would cut off their thought to spite their mind, This whirlwind of information can sometimes be quite unkind, The beauty mark of style worn like a contemporary crown, It’s a circus but it’s hard to tell who’s the clown, But the tightrope walkers are easy to spot way up on the high wire, Where you either have to be brave or stupid or have a bad desire.
But it’s this repulsive nature that feeds this attraction, The same way this unresponsive attitude caused this reaction, In a world where only the unwilling walk on nails, Heroes spill their guts and dead men tell no tales, A mongrel on a unicycle is not an inspiring sight, Trying to avoid the issue is the surest way to start a fight, The absolute is now just a relative matter of legality, The most immoral things are done in the name of morality.
Sometimes a theory of good intentions has no practical use, Sometimes holding it back does more harm than letting it loose, But it won't make it any better pretending that it’s fine, Confusing the all too human with the divine, Predatory creatures on a handmade hunting ground, Nothing has been lost but something has been found, Reason fakes its purpose then seeks its pleasure, Looking thru this trivial trash for a trifling bit of treasure.
Lost in the eye of the beholder the subject becomes the object, The abject eye that overlooks all virtues but is quick to spot a defect, And now the truth is so battered and bruised it has to limp to the witness stand, And sometimes it’s so down and out a lie must lend a hand, And there is no way to be sure when the truth does really lie, Sometimes it’s really hard to believe your eyes but I guess we have to try, But there are some who would advocate the inspiration of doubt, And there’s no doubt; doubt's a belief that we can't live without.
Aug. 87
Clocks
Born into motion; set sail against the sky, Inspiration is slowed down to the wink of an eye, We travel east and west in the same step, The distance of our dreams distort in this strange effect, Time plays favorites here but there’s no way to know it, Age is in motion only the clock doesn’t show it, Action moves so slowly but turns into memory so fast, Memory clings to the moment but the moments never last, Move me from the inside cast against the stoney ghost, Between the density of experience and memory; memory weighs the most, Clocks are little liars and full of shameless ambition, And just like knowledge have no respect for intuition, The fall doesn’t look as fast at the scene of the descent, But purpose falls to pieces and becomes a victim of its own intent, Everything that has been done still lacks for what can never be, The pearly gates of perfection have a profound lack of sympathy, The shortest distance between two points is being there, And a circle is the only route for those who can't afford the fare, Till we finally reach that perfect speed that cast the light, Like the stillness of a stagnant pool reflects in the night, Train of thought moves slowly thru time, Point of reference fixed forever in this rhyme, All beauty is in a transition of indifferent decay, You can't rightly judge today until tomorrows had its say, The contemporary rag of pain polishes some antique pleasure, A calculated risk pays off with a morsel to small to measure, Even after all hope is lost desire still remains, It’s a matter of time but the clock just complains, Every second of blind faith is spent tempting fate, It’s never to soon to always be to late, But there’s a beggars fortune at the end of every rainbow, And on the dance floor of the rain dance they're waiting for the rain to show, The past is gone all we’ve got left is the future now, But the slippery hands of the clock cannot hold us to this vow, The atoms of time make up the parts of the clock, Its sardonic voice repeats the nonsense of tic tock, Life in motion in its dust cloud fame, It begins in wonder and it ends the same, The thunder is the void as it clears its throat, The summer returns to the sky for its winter coat, A fence row marks the boundary of imagination, And on the other side is the junkyard of miscalculation, And the ruins of the future are kept there too, Until their time has come and then is thru, And every now and then an impossibility jumps the fence, And sings for its supper at its own expense, But time doesn’t have a memory and it has no eyes, So it can't remember the truth or see thru the lies, But clocks are the conspirators against all this holy time, But they can't stop the posthumous poet from singing his eternal rhyme.
July 87
The Fare
A lonely saxophone moans off in the distant night, Its desperate musical mating call goes lost, I read in my room under this circle of light, I know exactly what this price cost.
Love caresses me from a long distance lover, As I slip form my hypothesis into practice, But I escaped that desire and went undercover, And shook a direct hit for a near miss.
Oh this empty room has bled its loneliness into me, But I feel like I don’t need a thing, It’s just this idea of freedom that won't set me free, Like in the cold winter how we long for spring.
In this religion I have found I have lost myself, I’ve lost every potential to first glance worth, I wish I’d never seen that book upon the shelf, I wish I’d never called this planet Earth.
My body just can't seem to make up my mind, It’s not what we miss but the things we see that lead us astray, It’s not the chain link it’s the substance that does bind, But the world is in your head and you cannot get away.
Glory be to the fire on high, Words just mean the things we say they mean, I believe the fairy tales but I don’t believe my eyes, Because I have heard about things I’ve never seen.
Was I alive yesterday I’m not really sure, Will I be alive tomorrow in any kind of relative sense, Because tomorrow is like a disease for which there is no cure, And when it gets here it’s already past tense.
Who was it that let this ancient aggravation loose, I need not know in the name of god, You know a rope can be a lifeline or a noose, And east of Eden lies the land of Nod.
I bowed just now to the break of day, The early morning light broke thru so clean, I can talk about it but I really cannot say, What it may or may not mean.
The thoughts like a ghost cannot touch the flesh, Words are only breath pushing air, We are organized microscopic mesh, Hoping in the end there’s enough left to pay the fare.
Sept. 86
Gory Details (the authority of anarchy)
Down in the river with a flooded mind, Rain cloud in thunder there’s a flower I’m trying to find, The handshake of the rich; shake the bone of the poor, Pulse beat of legend survives from days of yore, Rub mankind with an eraser then trace him with invisible ink, A dream is a word asleep to think, Wheels of destination on the road of never, Reflection of reality after the sever, Traces of a way; there’s fingerprints on the air, What ghost would even hint at such a dare, Where is the last moment at now, Nothing is forever the wind don’t know how, Move like a concentric mood in the dark, Feed the flame to cool the spark, The sky is asleep; down means straight from here, An eye is worth about twenty more cents than an ear, Light is a bath like water in a grave, I read in a magazine that heroes aren't really brave, The moon is on the breeze for a new pimp, The pope is not allowed to make fun of god’s limp, She is like a hunger for which there has never been an appetite, Someone hurled a book and it fell straight thru the night, The dead hands of desire are cupped for a handout, Vanity is hanging out with humility fishing for doubt, The politics of the grass is always greener, Everyday the morning seems to be getting meaner, One day sleep will wake up on its death bed, Memory is telling decision about what destiny said, A world in a heartbeat; chaos on the head of a pin, Trifles in the wood-grain where poetry is a sin, A limp box of distraction; dig up a scar, They'er measuring for a rainbow; gonna plant a star, The sky is the belly of a dead sailor, He used to drink and dance with Heaven’s jailer, The truth is tattooed on the inside of Babylon’s lips, The naked light is revealed as the darkness strips, Numbers won't fit on things that don’t have a name, This fool spent his entire fortune on fame, Water is upside down; talk to a dream, Music is like waves flesh is like steam, The city of strangers where the government is rain, The land of the forgiven where they worship the goddess of pain, An approximate apparition leaves a picture perfect vision, Authority like weather rules with indecision.
Jan. 88
Theory of Circle
Here in this perfect place, No shadow has left its trace, On this stone hearted mass, Which no mold can cast, I thought I’d seen it all, but in my calling I missed the call, Dark is this sun today, And in this darkness I must stay, On the foot-soldier's lonesome tomb, It says bless this holy room.
This is the theory of circle, This is the struggle for faith, This is the now ever-ending, This is the loss of this space.
Here in this chaos perfected, No rejects have been rejected, From this near sighted future, This is a first run feature, I struggle to move against sleep, I fight and I lose and still keep, The power to move has moved me, But the weakness of movement disproves me, On the first lady’s beckoning grave, It says make life your slave.
This is the theory of circle, This is the absence of free will, This is the theory of circle, This is the kill to be killed.
Here in this perfect past, You know history cannot last, Because time is a frozen concept, That thaws in the jaws of conquest, I thought I’d made it happen, When the corporal became the captain, I thought I’d lost control, When I lost my heart to my soul, But here in this great king's pyramid, Death is revealed and life is hid.
This is the theory of circle, This is the product of mind, This is the theory of circle, This is the defect of time.
Here in this perfect daydream, The night is the thread that forms the seam, Of the morning's relentless dawning, Of the moon’s uncertain yawning, We know but we don’t know, We go but we don’t go, And the universe makes us feel so small, We wonder if we can feel at all, And on the poet’s final resting space, It says no shadow has left its trace.
This is the theory of circle, This is the fusion of dust, This is the theory of circle, This is the why of the must.
Sept. 86
Fate Borrows Time
The judge handed down my sentence, So I went to commit my crime, I drank away two-fifths of my guilt, Then went back to serve my time, I’ve sat under the hangman’s tree, Watched my life fall like a leaf, I didn’t rejoice when I had a winning hand, Because I know you can't beat this ancient thief, I stood tall when I felt like crawling, The wolves always howling at the back door, I knew what I had to do but I never knew what for, My lady she tried to sooth my fever, And only made it that much worse, I couldn’t embrace her evil blessings, And she couldn’t lift this holy curse, Even if tomorrow could have saved me, Even if today had passed me by, If I hadn’t tried so hard for the truth, I might not have got caught up in this lie, To some folks sad things are kind of funny, I must admit I’ve laughed at a few, But you can't feel nobody’s pain, And nobody can feel your pain for you, And when you're at odds with this world, Seems like you were born to lose, Blinded by this obligated worship, I built an alter for these blues, Nothing seems to make things easier, I’ve had money and been poor as dirt, I’ve never really known how to handle happiness, But I sure know how to hurt, But this gravity never did a job on me, I’ve stood here struggling with this weightlessness, Not sure whether or not to cut this anchor, And confused further still by this faithlessness, But these doubtless demons spur me on, But in concentration I lost my thoughts, Till I scorned my virtues, And I praised my faults, Seemed like there could be no better way, And these gloomy gods seemed so divine, So I gave them my best prayers, And I drank their self righteous wine, It took a while to get used to this intoxicated state, So with my head kind of cloudy, I didn’t fall for the trap but I fell for the bait.
When you're hanging in the balance, You're scared to move at all, 'Cause either way you go, There’s bound to be a fall, But I long just like a sailor, For some land beneath my feet, But the minute I hit the harbor I already miss the sea, The spirit becomes so weak, And the flesh becomes so strong, You can't recognize the right, So you familiarize the wrong, Where the angels rush right in, I so fear to tread, Where most look with anticipation, I look so with dread, These whitewashed dreams give way, To this nightmarish waking sense, The once dormant nerves of hunger, Rise up sharp and tense, Then the innocence you use to innocently lean on, Melts into a block of ice, And you become a man with a future, You become a man with a price, And the answers come so easy, It’s the right questions that are hard to find, It’s only when there aren't any choices, You can't seem to make up your mind, For years time made the difference, Now the difference has been made, Use to just carry the weight, Never worried about how much it weighed, I can't believe all has come to this, But this has come to all, What once seemed so immense, Has grown to be so small, But I’ve never looked back, Though my memory serves me well, The story has been told, And there wasn’t that much to tell, I never did get anywhere, But somehow I guess I went too far, I started out staring at the moon, And ended up wishing on a star, Now there’s a ghost in my head, That haunts my dreams in a rage, And there’s a skeleton in my closet, And a broken sparrow in my cage, And one more thing before I go, Oh baby I don’t want to make you cry, Just be sure you don’t forget me when I go, And don’t put a rose on my grave until I die.
July 86
Grace
If I live thru the death of this night, If I see that sweet morning light, Destiny is just a day's ride, This lonesome night will be my guide, She could not reveal her grace, I could not see past her face, Her touch was like the wind, Her beauty my only friend.
Come to me now, Come to me now.
This storm has been a comfort to me, Like a fish in a raging sea, As I move thru this dream, Like a leaf on a stream, I want to dance on the sky, I never; ever want to know why, There she goes and I am gone for dead, Is it all just in my head.
Come to me now, Come to me now.
The dawn has cut thru this night, But there’s a fog that rises to the light, My vision is tempted with haze, The morning’s breath leaves me in a daze, In this fog she’ll be hard to find, But I can't get her out of my mind, I wish just once she would come to me on her own, And never ever leave me here alone.
Come to me now, Come to me now.
April 88
If Yesterday Weren't Tomorrow
If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I’d pack my bags, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I’d sell these rags, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I’d be on high seas, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I could cure this disease, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, If hope was not a trick, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I wouldn’t feel so sober and sick.
Each day holds the key, To the door of the night, And it wouldn’t feel so wrong, If it didn’t fit just right.
If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, This joint wouldn’t rust, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I’d let her know my lust, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, And never was a lie, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, The immortal past could die, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, And she didn’t tempt me so, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, There’d be no place left to go.
Each day holds the key, To the door of the night, And it wouldn’t feel so wrong, If it didn’t fit just right.
If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, And the truth was not a belief, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, Time wouldn’t be a thief, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, Then the prisoners could be set free, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, Then what is could be, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I could find my way, If yesterday weren’t tomorrow, I could live today.
Each day holds the key, To the door of life, And she wouldn’t have to be my mistress, If I could make her my wife.
April 88
Released May 1, 1988
All Songs Composed, Performed and Recorded by M.M.
