From Austin to Houston to Brooklyn, For Relentless Poet

John 11.35 as recited on 45 South
for Relentle.

I struggled with my cowardice as I stood along the rail.
he said that would make a great line in a poem.
what he didn't know was that daily my conscience fought lifelong battles
that left me battered and bruised.
I am a lonely warrior slaying private dragons
that represent my truths.
nightly I die to shed fears that cannot be conquered.
some say why fight, why resist the inevitable?
they say every ending has a beginning,
so why does my beginning represent my end?
they say Jesus wept
but did he weep for me?
cuz I drowning in pools of lifelong tears
my sunny days give way to rain.
they say Jesus wept,
but did he weep for me
cuz I am choking on the bland existence
of karma or manifest destiny.
but my destiny is hidden behind smoke and mirrors,
carried in the pockets of thieves...
I am the inception of the forgotten,
the lost, the bewildered.
they say Jesus wept,
I wonder if he's weeping for me?
I struggled with my cowardice as I stood along that rail...
he said that would make a great line in a poem.
and I wondered, I wondered if he knew, that despite my pace
I was losing my life's race.
a race against self a race against time.
my time is running backwards
running back toward memories shattered.
like the glass scattered on the highway
that lies ahead of me,
I cannot travel it unscathed.
and I can't get my way,
cuz of the short cuts and byways,
looking for the easier softer way.
I'm like one thought running thru a thousand minds
I am all over the place,
yet I no where
I'm like liquor, I am often on the lips of others
for all the wrong reasons.
that's what he didn't know.
what he didn't know
was I didn't have another poem in me
I didn't have the words to describe the fear
I felt in the moment
the love lost in the past
the faith that I could make another day
and like the cigarette he lit,
I, too, felt packed under pressure
I, too, felt the heat
I, too, felt used
to be discarded, tossed aside
when others were thru…
I was burned ash to disappear in the air...
lost and soon forgotten.
what he didn't know was that I didn't have another poem in me,
I didn't have a song to sing,
couldn't quite find the beat
and my feet were often too damn heavy
to feel the lift in the music to dance
I heard a different rhythm
I had grown deaf searching for the harmony
in it all
when he heard lyrics,
I heard screams
they say Jesus wept,
but did he weep for me
cuz I taste the bitterness of blood,
not the sweet nectar of life
and I spit words of fire
with lackluster desire
'cuz I was a coward
paralyzed by my indignities and frailties
that's what I thought as I stood along that rail,
he thought it would be a great line in a poem
look's like rain
I wonder if God is finally weeping for me?


Baby Boy..... This was the result of a conversation we had that faithful night. How you inspired me... I always believed that I would have the opportunity to clean it up and recite it one night at the spot. Matter of fact, prior to finding out that you were leaving, I pulled it out to work on and memorize for January or February.... You know, I will probably never be able to fully express the depth of emotions and sense of loss I am feeling right now. You know, I... well, you probably know better than anyone.... So glad we made it to the other side. I will see you again.....