I am a ramblin'
man

Ain't nothin to be
proud of

A week ago I was down
in New York City

And now I'm out just
past Chicago

I might go down to Missisipi
or clear on out to
Montana


(I don't even think about
her no more

Or the way the crimson twilight
carried her scent through the
moonshot windows of
my soul)

A man names off cities
with mythological reverence
places of industrial power

Points of reference/reverence
and bragging rights
America and her fallen
giants

Keep searching for the doorway
through the jungle of your mind

(quick slip into the ease
spot of trail winding
through your paradise
mountain

where somewhere in the
darkness we are still
enveloped in vibrant
silence)

Not much to ride
away from these days
just a few minor
demons chasin their tails
on my shoulder

But I got angels singin
I got angels comin my way
The lord don't forget his children

No Jesus don't ever forget
one a his own

If you see me ridin away
If you see me walkin down the road
Ain't no way to tell ya
don't think you'd understand

never felt nothin like you before
well you know I ain't never
You know I ain't never
For me to be gone

for me to be gone
loved you a little too much
cuz I loved you a little too much
woman

born free as a dream
born free as a dream
born free as a dream

you might not know it
But I got good religion
Yeah I got good religion

Proud of our addictions
A place to make new memories

All those things
We had to kill to turn the
Light off

Let them come back

(Something else sacred
would have happened)

You police your
mind in dreams
search for a bus

off in the distance carrying
some fragment of a memory
that turns into

a journey up a snow bound
hill where you find the spirit
of something you lost

You got to feel your
whole heart

(loved her so much
he had to turn to
stone to turn it
off)

But that mountain's been
moved away
yes Jesus moved
that mountain away

They left us
to our own and
we just divvied up the
farm

Moved on down the line
heartless after the fall
looking for the stones
that turned to our
souls

smell the earth and spring
strong boots moving
everything

Looking for pieces
of himself the shadow
man holds

photographs
an old face from
another century

Still building my
starship

trapped between the
practical/magical
conundrums

Esoteric yes
to everything

meaningless words
(replace lives of fallen
idioms)

Narrative of Goldilocks and
suburban dead fantasies

Victim of my street ideology

Solace of
wind aloneness

Vanish into mysteries
(she sat right there with me)

I knew her from
lifetimes

She's just a gypsy
goddess

(I wish she knew how
lost she is without
him)

cool freedom from
the edge

Darkness riders
assemble

we will pour you
gently into the
nothingness

Comin together
and fallin apart

the winning and losing
game all we
know

Beasts of metal
combustion

The only thing left
with any meaning

Put out all your
campfires
we're hittin the
road

light all your hearth fires
we're comin home


I'll be gone so long
I'm gonna forget your
name

Never mind all that talk
bout enlightenment

He thinks he seen the buddhas
and such

Remembers that night you
just sat there in the street

He was wild and free
spent all his time in the woods
thought fist-fighting was a sport
(John Wayne type shit)

Thought he was Evil Knievel
on his BMX bike

Thought the kids smokin in the
woods were cool as shit

So he smoked in the bathroom
smoked after-school

Followed the Grateful Dead around
a lot

Learned to meditate always
rode motorcycles
was a cowboy behind the wheel
partied more than his share

Had too many women
Never like to be anybody's
slave

Ended up in India melting with
the Gurus

Got himself a couple a degrees on
the wall
wall
wall

Lost interest in all the excitement
couldn't quite get a grip on the
enlightenment

meditates a lot
alone a lot
not interested in the superficial
drama of "relationship"
longing for super-soulful
connection

driving home like an arrow
now he's planning on riding to
Costa Rica
(waiting for something to write about)

In the middle of this
life
just break the illusion
you've invested so much
in

(oldest trick in the book
your civil union,
very very
unoriginal)

Write a poem or two
ride a few thousand
miles

(he was a pure
moonchild)

go somewhere inside
myself
where I can believe in
my dreams
again

(you always have
to die

at the end of the
journey)

End of the Ride

You can't become
anything

Only relax into
who you
are

He didn't try to
write poetry

(Just laid in bed all
 night, at 10 years old
making sure he could
rhyme every word he knew)

Started filling empty books with
verse,
pouring over the Thesaurus his
mother had bought him

Grew to be a man who walked
the earth on his own path
Took an uncharted course through
wilderness

Motorcycles
Goddesses
Asia
Europe
West coast
East coast

Radical Masters
Underground meditation encounters

The way of being of a
poet
is his
poetry

Metal machine god
every sub-culture has been
commodified

Done with the
world

Corporate rulers
Twisted Political correctness
victims are the
oppressors

Slink off...
Dinosaur into the
lush primeval forest

Fasting
alone
in the darkness

This is my solution
to a world
I no longer
understand

Crazy Horse
is the one

Riding into battle
no fear of death

Certain of his protection

Old subway tracks
scream like dying ghosts
into the new year

young brother next to me
was in Times Square
and shows me a video
of the ball dropping

Chinese ladies across the car
wish me Happy New year