I Write Song Lyrics, Poetry, and Short Stories

The Cycle

It's not good form to wake the dead
just leave the dead alone
Wake those who are alive instead
show them what you've been shown

To be a proper puppeteer
You must learn to work the strings
Staying here and steering clear
of all the useless things

Out west the writing on the wall
was the true meaning of life
some invested know it all
had you hooked on strife

but you came back to yourself one day
with the help of some good friends
No worthless words could find their way
you just had to make amends

Drinking up the dragons blood
and prostituting time
Often being misunderstood
unless you spoke in rhyme

**Weaving words in tapestries on a loom so primitive
Learning love and some disease that hits you where you live
bleeding feet in poison sand where the LA sewers flow
Infecting you right where you stand, but that's the plan you know.**

Under all the bridges in your past
your one eyed heart with wings
is tagged on walls and will out last
so many other things,

Some memories, they have a way
they either change or fade
or they come back on some splendid day
and rain on your parade.

Under the holy microscope
you're not afraid to feel,
and that's the only way you cope
when things just get too real

Years pass by, time breaks your heart,
and your habits break your bank
another hip shot in the dark,
and there's only yourself to thank

now there's a lot less time ahead,
than the time you've left behind.
and you tell yourself that being dead
is just a state of mind.

The universe becomes your brain
the synaptic relay star
You suddenly know everything
except for where you are.

It's not good form to wake the dead
whether on, or in, their grave
No point in shame for the life you've led,
or the little that you gave

Just close your eyes and bravely go
to the place where nothing grows
cause you don't know what you don't know
when your time comes to a close.....
**

*Repeat 1st half -add lib-and fade*************
puck61
Robbie Brusberg
May 14th , 2017