nary a wisp

there once was a path and wild flowers grew there.
you took off running and rolled in the fire.
now what’s left but ashes, and the sound of waves crashing.

above, there’s a swallow, a hawk swoops there too,
turning like a mirror, over from where we came.

nary a wisp, nary a wisp

and all the lines that are drawn, and all the ways not gone.
for a way to leave this trail, of dark and bitter endings,
and find you in the light, the pure and blazing light.

above, there’s a swallow, a hawk swoops there too,
turning like a mirror, over from where we came.

nary a wisp, nary a wisp.


death

down by the river lank and stooped,
fingers clawing at the sand.
the wind is singing a cold pale whine,
carving teeth marks in the pines.

it weren’t but a wretched lonely hope that taught me the lines on this song.
my only brother’s dead and gone, and how can i go on?

death, oh death. why did you spare me?
you took my blood, my brother,
leaving my soul here in grief

and now, i’ll sing goodbye. and now i’ll sing goodbye.

when i was but a young boy,
my brother by my side.
we’d run all day through the wild trees
and into the grass we’d hide.

but now i’m growed and he is gone, nothing but wind remains,
and i must walk a lonely road with a heart as heavy as the rain.

death, oh death. why did you spare me?
you took my blood, my brother,
leaving my soul here in grief.

and now, i’ll sing goodbye. and now i’ll sing goodbye




wander on.  (song) by Patrick Kadyk

 

every night a rambler. always been a gambler. like a whisper from the shadows. neon light in the puddles. washed down the gutter, all kind of dreams.  tween the sparrows nose and swirl. clouded jumble, emotion and tumble. always alight and free. a lost found to be. i wandered far to find you, yet i caught nary a glimpse. but i saw many critters in turn, whose eyes glittered like your'n.  oh my brother. my only brother. i'll sing you this song, cause i don't know where you've gone... cept arunnin through my dreams. by a fire and ahowlin. well i guess that's how it's sposed to be, still you know that ain't right. so i squeeze my own hand just to try and feel your grip. but all in snapshots and scattered sand. lost to the restless wind. and i don't know where you've gone, but i'll track you down someday. oh my brother, my only brother. i'll see you down that ole lonesome road and wander on. wander on.

 

poems.

 

ghosts rowing in the wind 

 

bent rich doves

wandering the hover trove 

careening with space.

we are traces of sky

barely imagined

gonefried

together     alone

mystified 

ghosts rowing in the wind.

 

cutup poem from kerouac books:

 

barechester usually 

 

woke up

in the dream

to change into a rock

you by diamond steadfastness

furious and believing

leaping forward

putting on light touches of darkness in the midst of mad ranting.

 

 



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