Tuesday in Amsterdam

Tuesday in Amsterdam

All my hope is fraudulent

I do not expect it to work

I wonder if that mutates what should be hope

Into a bastard sabotaged version of bitterness

Infected with this rational expected outcome

Magnetizing loneliness to the polarized me

Faith in oblivion to be certain

Belief in the tradition of dehumanized shells

Drowned insensitive and commercially employed

Across grand landscapes presumed dead from the get

Go of knowing the reactions and wanting nothing but

Time to heal and die before I have to try

Again because what do I ever get out of breathing to sing

Any other song but these but asphyxiated on a highway roadside

An angry wench and a busted breath exhausted and lost

In the timeframes of the tossed and mangled and

Child in head strangled before the fetus could mature

The Egg-man on the beach dying and endured a melt down

In the frying pan of Amsterdam and Paris and this Indian land

All scrambled and pre-tabled for an argument that will never be made

Just words to a story that will never get on the page

And all my hope is fraudulent that this will ever change

What was, was and being a man capable of love can’t get these

Traffic accidents out of my head, the crashes

They just play over and over again, like a Sports Center highlight

Of one team getting trashed and the hospital bill is measured in volumes

And the financing will take years to compute the interest on the dues

Owned to contemplate the normal state of finding a base line

A heart beat in rhythm with a transplanted new undulating time

To dub and dub and keep inside and remain like a love

Sailing and all these lies that I keep impaling in these palms

I am no Christ and all my aspirations are gone