Crossing Burden

Maybe within a brass key.

Or, a handed down skeleton.

Or, a locket.

Or, a gifted rosary.

Sliced Americana dimmed in privacy.

Hoarder’s paradise brimming over with pride.

Feelings covered with rusted remains.

At the sign of the cross succumbed dismay.

And, the behold linger too much…they may go blind

So deep are these commanding cankers…

That over turned chairs and broken screams appear submissive and kind.

Trash shielding the burdened mind.

 

 

in my lifetime…I’m still not right

How to know the world is not round?

What makes me think I could start clean slated?The hardest to learn was the least complicated
What makes me think I could start clean slated? The hardest to learn was the least complicated

“Mom…I think I figured it out?!”

 

“What has your panties in such a wad that you cannot stack the cord of wood lying on the lawn?  Fill the gully that lies behind the house?  Mow the drunken neighbor’s lawn?  And, get to basketball practice?   I don’t care what the doctor says…mono or no mono…get your shit together!”

 

Begotten Belligerent Bellhop to Bad things to come…

” I know why I’m a lesbian!”

 

Mother of the Rosary and Martyr to all the guilt bestowed upon her by the ghosts of Catholics…pass:

“Are you on to that again?  What is it this time?  Last time you said you felt ‘different’ because it felt good to feel different.”

 

“Fuck it!  I’ll just come out with it now…I was not breast feed as a child and have been on a long and daunting journey for the perfect breast!”

 

That had been my freakish frenzied behavior for the eighties…I’m am an ass woman now.  It’s my prerogative and my new theory that the world is not completely round for the perfect ass has yet to surface.

 

And, for that matter, if Galileo was correct after all these centuries of bad mouthing him…I will come back as a pair of short shorts for Scarlett Johansson.

 

Galileo’s head was on the block
The crime was looking up for truth
And as the bombshells of my daily fears explode
I try to trace them to my youth

learning the things I could never apply
learning the things I could never apply

And then you had to bring up reincarnation
Over a couple of beers the other night
And now I’m serving time for mistakes
Made by another in another lifetime

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of Galileo
King of night vision, king of insight

And then I think about my fear of motion
Which I never could explain
Some other fool across the ocean years ago
Must have crashed his little airplane

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of Galileo
King of night vision, king of insight

I’m not making a joke, you know me
I take everything so seriously
If we wait for the time till all souls get it right
Then at least I know there’ll be no nuclear annihilation
In my lifetime I’m still not right

 

2 b a freak is to see past the crevice to the crust of life
2 b a freak is to see past the crevice to the crust of life

I offer thanks to those before me
That’s all I’ve got to say
‘Cause maybe you squandered big bucks in your lifetime
Now I have to pay
But then again it feels like some sort of inspiration
To let the next life off the hook
But she’ll say “look what I had to overcome from my last life
I think I’ll write a book”

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach the highest light
Except for Galileo God rest his soul
(Except for the resting soul of Galileo)
King of night vision, king of insight

How long
(Till my soul gets it right)