Can't Trust This City (Act One)

ACT ONE : fear of and for those who pace the Attic


Too long ago I swore this world
would never see my face again.

The sweeping sea surrounding me,
would cleanse these thoughts held deep within.

Mothers, daughters, sisters, brothers,
cousins, fathers, soldiers, sons..

all fell to this man, behind iron shutters
behind the blue curtain of sympathy’s tons,

of ocean waves, and water graves,
looking only to rinse with then spit out my blood.

I’m sure they’ll get at me and cut through this frame,
operating through blindness, under anger’s direction.
All too indecisive, they’ll just sleep this brain;
don’t stop to think beyond ideas of innocence or rage.
They’ll tear without consequence, with no law or discretion,
this feline, it hungers for a mouse in its cage.

So the books of today, and articles of tomorrow
are out of print for a home that hides beneath the swells.

All that I’ve read, were my own calculations,
pitched to the tune of those hideous bells.

One toll for the hour, and one toll for those passed.
for each chime set a flower in some place it might last.

I built the bomb that delivered the moon,
in pieces to my waiting lap;
its covered in my fingerprints.
I sired the draft that built the arms,
to uproot a nation from an ill-informed map;
my signature stains the schematics.

The luster of steel and of generous screws,
keep an evident fate from filling these shoes;
keep a dangerous mind far away from its tools,
keep my bottled up faith, from the seats of a pew.

Hold strong young walls,
you’ve got years before you, and years behind.
Were it not for your tolerance,
my curiosity would surely bind my conscience.

Steadfast old bones,
you’re tree of life forever must deepen its roots for mankind.
Were it not for your scholarship,
these ocular walls would have bled the bone dry of your patience.

This all-seeing specter of the deepening sea,
sees aquatic towns bustle at a humanly pace.
This overlooked sub life, just so far that it’s deep,
swims along in no hurry, every stone in its place.

Its been such a time since I’ve spoke with the sun,
but his words I remember, “boy, there’s no turning back.”
He pleaded with me, of no good deeds undone,
“don’t come calling my name, when you need stones to stack.”

I wonder if he'll know my face through the hourglass,
if his memory serves from those decades ago.
Will he call out my name, or hug his hand to his lips?
Has he simply been waiting, fingers laced to his hips?

Its my birthday today, and I’m wishing for old friends,
and the first place to look, is the last place I left them.
Frozen in circles, wrapped up tight with their trends.
Beyond the crooked ladder, and behind the heavy door,
sleeps the answer to all this lack of human tragedy.

Drag out your finest parlor dance shoes;
they’ll be aiming for your feet.
If just to see how long you’ll shake for,
while they scatter in the streets.

If waiting and worry were carved up from gold,
oh, this heart would yield a healthy sum,
and if regret’s all it took to grow yourself old,
then I’d have already passed beneath the curve of His thumb.
Here, and now is the time to make yourself right,
so repent from the debt that you feel from the sun.
The hand’s there to take, so I’m holding on tight;
to finally see what this city’s become.

And the open hatch paints my face a new white.