Blue Wonders
Clouds cast evolving shadows over the worried brow of the Earth, Haunting the holy routine of the strain of death and birth, The coming undone is in the destiny of the molecule's making, From the heavens to the heap all is caught in the swell of this aching.
An eye to the blue wonders of this world, Why oh why would there be a why.
She covers her rose petal blush with the bait of her smile, Life itself seems to gather into the goddess-facto of her style, The vessel of the ones who hurt; caught in the brooding tangle of her tossed hair, As tangible as your thoughts; as elusive as the living breath of the air.
The flesh for the blue wonders of this world, Why oh why would there be a why.
The colors of a beautiful tragedy, The dance of a sorrowful symphony, The pain of this pleasure, Is the price of this treasure.
Worlds fall to pieces in pursuit of their gravity's god, So common and dull yet the whole trip plays out so odd, And the dreams undone are no stop to this passion for dreaming, The solid earth no foundation for the leftover focus of seeming.
Ripe worlds in the sweat of a stone, Memories drip from the blood of a bone, The sky of the weather’s dark soul, Its color beyond all control.
The heart of the blue wonders of this world, Why oh why would there be a why.
Dec. 04
The Four Directions
Somewhere; is the static meaning of the motion, And the widowed wind is the weather’s notion, Caught upon the debt of not to be, False horizons train the eye to see.
Endless avenues of the four directions, Fate delivered in the trip of these affections, Scatter your being to the plot of being there, Take the static charge from the rumor of the air.
This sorrow is the song of nowhere, The singer is a moon drunk voice, This pain’s ambition will take you there, Easy wings of the bird of choice, Laws of sleep harass the dream, The moment seeks the morning's motivation, In hopes to feel the logic's scheme, So trail and the tread fall to syncopation.
Is where you are an homage to the four directions, Or just the wasted ways of your regressions.
In a doorway passes eternity's of indecision, The hidden heart of night’s provision, Only the bottomless chance of direction to curry meaning, Driven by the current killer’s leaning.
The four directions each contain a fate, And the fugitive fix of some dreamer’s date, In the abstract motion of habit lies the way, To the secret seed of the deepest day.
The compass cannot configure how you came to be here, Not even the motion’s map could make this clear, Time is the trek of this destiny’s will, And dreamer's fly falsely but sleeper's lie still.
And the four directions are just the means to no end, Just a tonic poured on the impotent wind, Regret is the fifth direction but on no compass found, In an instant of oblivion you're eternally bound.
Dec. 04
Drifter
I keep my pain shut away from the callus world, Locked away deep in my gone and secret soul, And I put on the face that says fine how are you, But I will never pay that debt so don’t call that loan.
I can look into the eyes of my mirror, And be the nowhere of the drifter.
The mind of the matter I think therefore I'm damned, Till time grinds my dreams to dust and swallows me bones to being, A plugged in pawn of the psychosomatic system, Miles away in the better lands of Venus.
I can be all nothings to nobody, A drifter’s uncensored agenda.
Dreaming down Eden trying to transpose my starless fate, Walk away with a head full of song and sorrow, The world is a catastrophe of bottomless meaning, And a life lived in words and woes.
Yeah; but the river don’t bleed me, The dreaming pulse of the drifter.
March 05
Unbelievable Blue
There are so many things I don't know and many more I wish I didn’t, The world is a signal on my line changing from minute to minute, Unending beauty as the unnerving mortal coil unwinds, My future is a refugee and accepts what petty charity it finds.
And so I am the bitterness of broken parts, That have been scattered and cannot find their center, Yet sees the beauty of all beauties, And hesitates like an unworthy to enter.
And the heat that fused the core, Is now the light upon the shore, I am almost me and you are almost you, Sunk in the pity and the joy of unbelievable blue.
The wrong of me is the struggle for the truth in this, And the sex in me is the lust for the flesh in her kiss, And I can rise like a new world from the wreckage of creation, Be as wise as a blood and guts god inviting all temptation.
Now is the bane of time’s wound, The point of no passage where we are marooned, No knowledge of what; only desire to, Fathom the depth of this unbelievable blue.
A man lives in the same cage with his particular pain, Rolls the stone as long as he is able and sane, As a young man dreams of all his life will never be, As an old man realizes he was always free.
Things are not the way they are, They're the way we made them, More at the mercy of the weatherman’s plot, Than the weather’s whim.
This life (is) the sum of all things bleeding, The agony of false prophet breeding, But all we victims of the night’s coup, Still wake every morning to a sky of unbelievable blue.
Jan. 05
Paris
The first look into your eyes found my blessing to life, You will not spend one more day another man’s woeful wife, Your eyes could keep the poet’s pins busy for lifetimes; nights and ages, Your beauty could kill the blind and teach the tongue of sages.
I will have you or I will have my judgment day, Philosophies of what if wring the life from what is.
Come with me I will bring your planet’s beauty its moon and mate, We will stamp the heavens with the blood stained kiss of this date, War will be the price of love; reason lies drunk on your breast, All that was means nothing at all; the world is newly dressed.
I will bring rage and ruin to the neck of your honeymoon, I will not mourn for dead armies in our bed.
Let empires fall to dust; let kings blissfully die in the mud, I will have you my dear; the song and sermon of my blood, I will kill any man or god who would keep me from my bride, The soldier's life meant nothing until for your beauty he proudly died.
Let this be the love that the ages envy and recite, War will be our passion displayed for those who would doubt it.
I will have you if the world must be damned in the labor, I’ll stop time itself for the balm and bath of your flesh, The soul of an army; the body of kings for your sigh, I will have you; even if just for the night before I die.
Feb. 05
Sophia in Blue
There is a universal woe in the shrug of her brow, Caught in the gears of the ruthless mechanics of how, Till it all seems a hollow game of survival and strife, And all she really has is the beating heart of her life, There was a world in her eyes now there’s just a moon, There is a dream in her bed but it just sleeps till noon, She use to give the divine intervention of her touch, Now she says she’s got to much of a limp to be a crutch.
Sophia in blue, A sky without a sun, Sophia in blue, An empty ocean of love.
She rehearses her preferred scenario even the gods take heed, And the rain comes down roses for this pitiful deed, Is there a secret shared; is there a Heaven waiting, Her feline-grace-destruction is a goddess creating, But she is ruined by the play of the elements and where is her fire, This light serves no heat just shadows of desire, She is a new world buried in an ancient star-mapped sky, Without the motive curse of envy or the servitude of why.
Sophia in blue, Sculpted in cold stone, Sophia in blue, A beauty without a mirror.
Does it have to be this petty little parade of vanity, She wonders on the world; the chemical sum of her sanity, Why some nasty little nothing means more than the riches of silence, Every bum’s back ally every boardroom-bride breeds violence, So she is her victim; her wounded eyes only read the lines, The ground offers no path; the sky offers no signs, She is the math of ages undone by the moment's arithmetic, The enormity of the now overfeeds her lust and leaves her lovesick.
Sophia in blue, Dreaming of days divine, Sophia in blue, Waiting in breath and bone.
March 05
That Picture of Hedy Lamarr
That picture of Hedy Lamarr makes me dream, I dream of kisses and the logic of lips, It’s like she’s just about to look up, Straight into my eyes; straight into my meaning, That picture of Hedy Lamarr makes me feel, Makes me feel like beauty found its definition.
That picture of Hedy Lamarr makes me mad, It’s black and white so her eye’s keep their color, I believe they're green but they look unbelievable blue, Why couldn’t some superior man make her happy, That picture of Hedy Lamarr makes me feel, Makes me feel like I can love.
So world-weary to be so young, What is it she sees what is it she is looking at or looking for, Speaks to me not of love lost but never found, How could such a beauty never know her lover, I would have laid empires in your lap, We would have drank the stars and jumped off the moon.
That picture of Hedy Lamarr makes me wonder, I wonder that the world could mint such a creature, Even the angels of the throne stand humbled, If I had the words I know that would have touched you I’d sing them here, That picture of Hedy Lamarr is a work of art, My petty eyes cannot do it justice.
That picture of Hedy Lamarr makes me sad, To know that time worked the model to the ground, But no powers could take this captured grace, And the gods could draw no greater divinity on a face, That picture of Hedy Lamarr is the sorrow of creation, But her being is sorrow's redemption.
And I’m not exactly sure what fixes your gaze, And makes those black and white eyes so blue, But my soul is stirred in their soft revelation, Because my dear I think I see it to.
Feb. 05
Particles of Light
In an atmosphere of silence a new Heaven is framed, In the friction and function a world is tamed, Almost endless rations of time and tides, Still born fortunes and death bed brides, I end; I begin; touch of the weightless will, Informed by the senseless moans of the ghost of the kill, Meaning; just the luck of the dictionary’s draw, Stuck upon the point of the witless all.
In a wordless waiting of a timeless wait, A dead donor is borne from memory’s gate, The negative still is unbelievable blue, This ancient rhythm’s rust feels nubile-new, Any wisdom that plots the heresy of instinct’s grace, Is the hideous coil of matter behind the face, These worlds are made from the crumbs of god’s dreams, Fleshless geometry of shadows and themes.
Dependent on the atomic mercy of an untamed sun, A man is a debt to mankind till his dire days are done, All his motion synched to the static point of soul, All his empty places lost in the context of control, The vicious pull of gravity bends the plot of the scheme, Till the dreamer becomes the only victim in the dream, All sugared shadows and gray-area-graveyards, His life a traded token down at the slave yards.
Solid body of his weakness; displayed in muscle tone, The sense of subject tied object in a shadow-bone, Consensual forgiveness in the kiss of this heat devoured, In this exchange of emptiness the medium is empowered, The dead loneliness of particles unmatched of direction, Can only cult and clan for the chemicals of connection, A starving moon in agenda of darkness waits divine, For language of the light the substance of the sign.
Feb. 05
Deep Blue Horizons
Desire runs deep, Wasteland farmers reap, Silent trapped pain, Softly scattered rain.
Framed in the kinetics of another generic day, The great something of the deep feasts upon its pray, And the suffering; the undone angel of Blake, Is delivered in rainbow’s renaissance make.
My vision is buried in deep blue horizons.
Deliver me blue, Default doctors cue, Dreamer's soft kill, Starless sleeper's skill.
Unfound by the restless mechanism of fate, Spilled in a pool of potential by the mercenary pride of his mate, The humbling bleat of desire will run the clock, And time’s little thief will pick the crumb of his lock.
My sunrise eclipsed by these deep blue horizons.
In the context of a soulless driven; petty labor; whitewashed brittle-bone of a life.
I’m sanctified in deep blue horizons.
I’m glorified in deep blue horizons.
I’m nullified in deep blue horizons.
I’m glorified in deep blue horizons.
I’m nullified in deep blue horizons.
Nov. 04
Released 01 October 2005
All Songs Composed, Performed and Recorded by M.M.
All Songs Composed, Performed and Recorded by M.M.
