Below Hague’s Peak (Eve)


“She is your before, sawed from your spirit, formed before, you were an atom, she was an Eve, before you.” – D.S.

She said, “I have always been above”. She said, “I have always been below”. He said, “I have found myself in each place, you go”. She said, “That’s how I found you”. He said, “It’s a dream of clues, isn’t it? A sweet dream of you”. She said, “No my love, it’s really you”.

It could be a refraction, or a dream from our birth, climbing ever northward from the highway where it curves. Around steep stones and cedars bearing snow crystals, beneath the Mummy’s range, strange dreams of deeds forgotten, your dress a long wedding train. Carrying us both laughing, your lips upon mine, shadows moving aside from where we tell them lay. Lay shadows lay. Oh, I could have been a lyricist that wrote of wrong love’s pain. But no that’s not the way we hold each other when life begins to rain. When it pours. When the screams come from where ghosts have lain. When it snows right here on top of a mountain chain. When piano keys tumble down, sounds my love, my eternal love for you.

It could be an essence, that leaves us here, scattered among the mountains, somewhere our love lost, somewhere standing together solid in the altitude, near Hague’s Peak, so cold. Our lines draining from our hearts, old places our lives together, familiars, no longer alone. Scattering, and hovering through this winter and last summer too. The windows of this high house breaking, opening, speaking. Frozen tongues, warming where eagles show, speaking to what has become me, and what will form you. For Darwin has not made us, nor are we of an archeological mold. Petrified angels, our stories just waiting to be told. More we are more. More we are more.

She came speaking my name near the rocks, close to the high stream, and she became a part of this everlasting poem. In a haste I asked her, her name, and I was blushing. She looked at me from high above the Colorado Mountains, those eternal thrones. She sighed, a sound which is of eternal syllables and symbols, and she said, “I am you”.

She said, “I have always been above”. She said, “I have always been below”. He said, “I have found myself in each place, you go”. She said, “That’s how I found you”. He said, “It’s a dream of clues, isn’t it? A sweet dream of you”.

She said, “No my love, it’s really you”.

For the spirit that has always been before me, created in that light that holds us both. For Susan. –08.03.2020 – דָנִיֵּאל

 

Bread


Who would have thought it would still be you and me? You sing “Bread” to me, I cast myself away, it’s a “Sweet Surrender”.

She brings me from beneath the world, that gone dry from frigidly. That dark place without a soul, gone to places where blind men see. There in time, there in pain, a boy that knows how to tell tales untold, so selfishly, does he grow. Still she laughs and on we go. I am me, sometimes lost, hell fires landing, no Pentecost. No Peter or John, or Jesus too, just my tall woman humming “Bread” to sooth. So, there are worlds that I do see, strange little islands on the astral sea, and they mean something for when I’m lost, but not near enough for what they cost. Still unknown to me she hums “Sweet Surrender”.

For all the times, I’ve wondered from bed, found a highway, inside my head, made myself something for what I’m not. Formed silly reasons for pleasures, I don’t want. And no one knows except me and now you, no one knows what we been through. Still there’s something, a secret true, a better myth that brings me through. A mystery you will know now too. When she sings “Bread” I sleep the night through. She say’s “Your a better man, for what your not”.  Demons in my sleep, that are better not sought. A father, husband, hero, whose fight is still fought, but still I’m weak, when the battles are not, then, she play’s “Bread”, and my fears are fought.

I always promised hero’s that looked like me. Expansive, gregarious knights that sailed my stormy, storied seas. Still in all that, for what I was, my dangerous flirtations, with what I couldn’t see. You stayed right here arguing strong, a callous to a pair, but it made me strong. And when you sing, you sing “Bread” to me. A “Sweet Surrender”, and my G_D, I’m free, so very free.

Who would have thought it would still be you and me? You sing “Bread” to me, I cast myself away, it’s a “Sweet Surrender”.

For my Susan, I’m so glad you won! – 10.26.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

  • Bread- Sweet Surrender- All Rights

Bro/ken (Hold My Heart)


When you break, when you wonder, in your soul, how to hold your heart, how to keep it from being two, not one you see, but two.

Oh my creator, my symphony of broken joy, you writing rune like syllables in this little boy, yep supernatural as the sun goes lights out, dark, so weird in this little boy, I imagine it’s been this way a time or two for all of you. It seems you would hold my heart until the conciliators wouldn’t talk, nobody listens, it seems you would hold my heart, and damn it, damn it I don’t understand, you would let it go too soon. Seems the sun wants to set too ruin, seems a broken heart wants to have sex with the new moon, that place where shadows whisper too soon. And yet you would say to me, go on be empty but make sure your swept free. To many houses inhabited, where daemons have room. For something wilds going to come along, a dangerous topics going to turn into a song, and when, oh when you turn around, something magic’s going to turn without a sound, and G-Ds going to hold your heart, some awesome lights going to hold your heart soon.

And yes, you’re going to hear it, syllables without a sound, your own heart of joy breaking, face it, it’s high noon, G-Ds listening, and somebodies going to hold your heart, and it will happen too soon, the question is what do you do?

Bring me shadows, call down me flames, let me go to lonely, someplace where all there is, human as it is, great deserts of room. And let me break, it seems the natural thing to do, for deep unto deep it calls, letting me being hurt, and I will watch my heart break itself in two. Oh my creator, my symphony of broken joy, are you listening, you said you would hold me, than hold my heart, will you keep it after dark, from breaking in two?  Please let me stay one, don’t want to break to two.

And yes, you’re going to hear it, syllables without a sound, your own heart of joy breaking, face it, it’s high noon, G-Ds listening, and somebodies going to hold your heart, and it will happen too soon, the question is what do you do?

When you break, when you wonder, in your soul, how to hold your heart, how to keep it from being two, not one you see, but two. – 03.01.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל


Summer of 92 (Your Song)


We are nearing a time where promises come true, when I have the money, to make assurances come through, when rings and sparkles, and castles are built in the sky. Still it’s quiet simple, these many years past, I was richer so much richer when I said I love you.

I knew you five months when I asked you in song, in rhyme my head bent, I asked you so strong, a quiet little melody a quiet little song, will you please now marry me, I know we’ll last long. Oh words in wet summer, our beach and our sand, our quiet little Camelot where we dreamed we would stand, and babies and caravans of spices for good, we would be forever, just as we should. Oh Susan my mistress, my wife and my life, that summer I knew you would be all my life, and on we would journey our hands so entwined, my classic enchantment my spell in my life. For you there are gathered outside where I stand, a world and a future, the best in my plan. That Florida sweet sunset, the heat filled the sand, a strange horizon of mountains just ahead, we’d scale them like Everest, and climb them with tears, for real was our tragedies, so telling our fears. No life of illusion, no answers so clear.

But just as so promised, and so well planned, from here we hear music that song in our ears, your song, in the highland I’ll take you there when I can.

That September majic, I fashioned a song, of green eyes in summer and dreams of year long, and brought myself down from a height I’d placed there, to play you an overture of pleasure to bare, and there we stood then, as we do stand now. Two shadows forever, entwined with our vows. My knees felt so bruised from kneeling as a knight, for you my Guinevere, for you my wife.

I thought I a rich man, for what I had with you, for a poor man with love, knows better of what’s better then new. For in that moment when you said yes, I grew my life better, I made it with you.

We are nearing a time where promises come true, when I have the money, to make assurances come through, when rings and sparkles, and castles are built in the sky. Still it’s quiet simple, these many years past, I was richer so much richer when I said I love you. – 02.18.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Fun in Two


Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. All that I thought, that would make us true, all of my dreams are poor in comparison to truth, the thing that is all, when strangers are new, the beginning of all we had is better in fun in two. A lightning has come, that strikes glass through, a shining light of phosphorous love that seers we two, and all of the stars, and all of the past, historical ghost of spirits, that make us last. My thought of it all, is me in you, my head spinning round makes fun in two.

There is an ark, a mountain pass, a place of shadows in the beginning that seem to last. I would strip down, and make you laugh, you would strip too, and pain would pass, all of its right, from what we’ve been through, taking a story of legend, and making it true. Calling down daemons, calling down sun, twisting the balance of the two now that is fun. When there are tales spun by the fire, when there is time, and we have felt are spirits expire, we will arise, and make change new. While all around us terror, fights without a clue. All of it’s me, damn sure that it’s you, twisting and falling making love it’s fun in two.

Looks like I’m grey, with a wrinkle or two, climbing mountains has made me this way, and then there’s you. You make me grow young, with a spell or two, my witch I’m your fan forever, fun in two. Can we go out, go out in the dark, can we live on this mountain together and jump the shark. I think I’ll smile, and grab you, and as we go on together I bet it’s fun in two. Forever and ever I bet it’s fun with you.

Sometimes were fun, a little bit blue, a certain instance of thought were one in two. – 01.05.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Melancholia (if an angel, an angel came)


Real is where we are right now, so cold and rare that I see you, blended in a fairer side, taste me more than I taste you. Cobblestones well most can’t feel, that heel that’s bruised it’s me and you, shadow comes and twilight bends, and then its dark and how it rains, it rains. Rare a storm that ever ends, but melancholia, loves such sin, to bring the soul to just one drop of where the wind does end, so silent in the end. I thought it such a single road, a sharp thought held in poet’s prose, a rose that’s died and then turned blue, I thought me better than you, and then there comes the truth.

Melancholia, a place of art, a sociopathic kind of start, the creative side of blue, the street where daemons stare at you. A genesis, we title fun, beginning gothic, self-persona of. An innocent prick of the pin that draws pictures in the blood of sin, and there in silence while eyes stare old. Those wild perusing, rhymes so cold, that melancholia without end, that rules the world without the wind, and oh what love it’s lost within. For all is downward in a trend, and just as dusk comes in self-pain, narcissistic endeavor in black rain. To walk and draw such art in mind, self-absorbed, descent in mind, and what would happen in this pain if an angel, an angel came.

…. if an angel, an angel came!!!!

A cover warms me, keeps me dry, a strong willed woman, who does not lie, a shield from prying eyes that cry. An instrument formed from G_D’s own why. A blend of treasure, laughing through, over and over and its truth. She says you’ll write where there is wind, and stop, the torture that’s within, and what must go, must go first, that melancholia, that is of earth, that self-absorption from within, that dank dark secret that just pretends. For this strange journey must endure, with light around you, of that I’m sure, for melancholia cannot win, I see those eyes, and they are pure, but those behind you, you must fight, for you are worth to be of light, to be of light.

Real is where we are right now, so cold and rare that I see you, blended in a fairer side, taste me more than I taste you.

For my wife Susan who is my angel – 10.09.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Fleetwood Mac and the Cloudless Flight (1980)


Dazed, so into you, sway, where ever you go, your skin smells like a Camel smoke, and the desert wind at night. September, Nicks, Fleetwood and the lights. Smoking a fatty, her jeans so tight, and looking at Maryann all night. I’ll pick you up, a “sweet wonderful you”, you loop your purse strap around me tight, and baby, baby you whisper, you’re going to fuck me on this cloudless flight. A shirt unbuttoned, rumors, your sighs, you’re dazzling thighs, and that dark, dark hair that follows the magic, where this boy wonders why. For what follows, a miracle of sight, the ways of Fleetwood Mac, and Maryann with a boy you have never denied, you have never denied.

You in your Masters, you’re English of degrees, your Wordsworth, and eighteenth century poets, me fading, a sophomore, who no longer achieves. I know you’re the wild one, I’m so quiet, and yet you say, “I don’t have to tell you, but you’re the only one”. And tonight when the Pan Am goes quiet, and Lindsey and Stevie are getting high, you and I will walk into the desert, and make love while time fly’s. The echo of “Over and Over“, the death of the light, and my Maryann, will chant Mabinogi, and like that Welsh witch Rhiannon, take me on a cloudless flight.

Is it now a question, a memory of all I could do, a nineteen year old boy, with Maryann on a concert night.

So we danced, danced, stage side, and my “Dreams” followed your hands, till they reached my side, and then you whispered “your feelings follow me wherever I go”. And then we were running, like sprites through firelight, through those east side doors into the taste filled night. Into the desert, where water dies, out by the Organ’s, where coyotes cry, and there by the ghost shack, where Pat Garett died, we made love, and believed in the ways of magic, the magic of the night. And though the years they be many, with loves and failures too, I still remember the concert, and afterwards the cloudless flight. – 08.20.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Love above Water


Shall we fly above the water without our egos looking down, cross the raging foam of oceans where troubles often found? Shall we look at all the tempest that divides a world in two, personality disorders, between a couple fighting through? For there is a book of notions, that is written without a clue, that it says to love each other, we must become something new. Oh I would not deceive you, for I’ve seen the storm below, and if that liquid overtakes us then we sink to what we know. For what we know there in relationship, is heavy shameful words, and they complicate emotion from the scars of history gleaned. For it bears so worth repeating that it’s almost worth a scream, keep your love above the water, where the air is pristine clean.

Do you think there is a passage that runs beneath the ocean floor, filled with Freud and all his articles, what’s your personality for? Maybe Jesus or some great monk holds your souls within their hands, just beneath the Mediterranean, might be where your marriage stands. Have you thought it might be possible to divest from one and two, look at this your own failings forgive one, and bend for two. It could be time above the water, not invested in things of man. Not in social, scripted media, or somebody else’s plan, not a book in light of Buddha, not a wise man from the east, turn your honest eyes to others, tame the lust that is the beast. It is not a plan of heaven, it is not a smile than frown, it is consummating eye to eye, where your love will soon be found.

Shall we fly above the water, leave your childhood on its own, take yourself as wonder living, a simple breath that is your own. Come you now to one another without wave and weight of time, love your soul within another, above the water where there’s sky. Oh it is a special cadence that beats far within your bones, when you come to one another without personality or a home, and you turn in spinning laughter, holding hands in what is found. For above this life of water, love is found above, so sound.06.23.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

American Rubber (Anybody There) – 1983


She wants to go, ride, and ride hard, with me along this white sandy sheet. Shakespeare’s crashed, and all my dramas bled into a sleeve, and washed into latex swirling in that gulf so deep. We can listen to Blackmore, and party in a ‘Stone Cold” sea, go to kiss so wet along this silent beach. American rubber, and a Moosehead cold, lights in the wilderness, allow us to become so bold. And while I swim in pleasure, and lose my heart, perhaps I want an answer on why did we start. Anybody there to guide me, a man perhaps to tell me, in soft skin she climbs up on me, and my eyes won’t close, no they won’t close.

Twenty-two, I’m crazy, looking at the hazy sky, so low, wishing I was alone, just alone to wonder why. Questions in the dark along a darkened sea, rolling in the tide, just like her body grabs me. Anybody there to guide me, feeling my self-release in her below, American rubber you come and hold my soul, my fallen soul. Tasting her neck, I hear the sea roll, I turn my eyes see the horizon glow, her skin flavored salt dripping from the water I suppose, just another element I know.

I thought this so easy, this ride, slipping in, another Moosehead, and she wants us to try again. England Dan and Mr. John Ford Coley pull all the “Falling Stars” in a hurry, for twice in a row, her face seems so blurry. Can anybody tell me, her breast closing in, is this just by instinct, or is love a sin. American rubber, two for a note, my love for a dollar, her tongue near my throat. For far up above us a spirit looks down, swirling in wonder, at what it has found, a boy and his questions of now fallen youth, descended from passion, his heart now forsook. Anybody there to guide me, a man perhaps to tell me, in soft skin she climbs up on me, and my eyes won’t close, no they won’t close. – 5.25.2015 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

“My head is saying, “No”
But my heart keeps giving in
So hard to let it go
When it’s there under my skin
Well, if this is the face of a sinner
And if heaven is only for winners
Well, I don’t care
‘Cause I won’t know anybody there
Thought that I’d let it slide
But it’s me that’s slipping in
Thought that I’d go for a ride
Before this crash I’m dying in
Well, if I’m judged on the life I’ve been living
And if heaven is not so forgiving
Well, I don’t care
‘Cause I won’t know anybody there
I don’t care
‘Cause I won’t know anybody there
My head is saying, “No”
But my heart keeps giving in
So hard to let it go
When it’s there under my skin
Well, if I’m judged on the life I’ve been living
And if heaven is not so forgiving
Well, I don’t care
‘Cause I won’t know anybody there
I don’t care
‘Cause I won’t know anybody there
I don’t care,
‘Cause I won’t know anybody there
Is there anybody there?
Is there anybody there?
Is there anybody there?”
Songwriters
O’DONOGHUE, DANIEL JOHN / SHEEHAN, MARK ANTHONY
Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group


Boats against the Current


A step, a thought, a solution to where we find ourselves brought together in the end. A phrase that repeats it all, until I fall, and oh my friend I fall, lost to it all. For perfection is consuming, no longer sailing alone. A boat against the current until the end.

Maybe, a line that last forever, dreamers lost in the past, is it that perfection is consuming, or is it time that will not bring us an end. Like footprints that never leave us after the fall. I never had you, but it seems something inside kept you after all. May be I’m older, but that doesn’t seem a solution, to where I find myself, wandering from the past. A dreamer I’m older, a captain out of order, and though I don’t sail a boat, I think my heart has found a coast to sail against. To sail against.

Lines that take me, life how it shakes me, and all in all perfection is consuming, for nothing ever stopped the tide where we thought we had rest. For a ride on a boat against the current, for a look that touches something that always last, there we are motion, waiting for the dark, and on our own will it ever end. Oh woman, I cannot pretend, the shore it seems to be beyond what I can bend. We are boats beyond the current to the end. So we smile in the dark, knowing things, that make us human after all, and we know from the past, we know, things that connect us to the end.

Frame of illusion, while seasons are changing, those things that take away tears. Did I ever tell you, love unspoken is rebellion against the end. Oh the shore line it keeps changing, but still it’s the past I will not defend. For a gospel takes a word and it starts with a spark. Oh beyond it tells it all, our tomorrow is all that is left, brought together, by illusions to the end. It could be, I would reckon were boats against the current to the end.

Built on an anvil, when summers were hotter, when all the feelings felt truthful, and bound to never fall. History thought illusion, but some stories are not built on pretend. Could be we were boats against the current to the end.

Unapologetically a rip from Eric Carmen’s Boats against the Current, from which many a romantic dream was spawned. – 04.06.2015 – דניאל