It Won't Do: In the Spirit of Bobby Dylan

It won’t do no good to carry on and smile, babe,
since you’ve done it all before.
And you’ve spent all your dimes calling early,
but I won’t answer anymore.
I’ve been sitting and contemplating thinking ‘bout the past,
looking through our photos wondering why it didn’t last,
it all happened just a little too fast,
but now we’re back to where we’re at.

And I know you’d hate for me to pity you, babe,
but you know I really do.
and I know I told you that I really loved you,
you know I really meant it too.
But in the end there’s nothing left for me to feel but used,
you came and went so fast you left me dazed and confused,
your love is pretty strong, but pain’s the only tool you use,
and you’re the reason why I write the blues.

So long honey babe,
here’s to what we’ve said and done.
I realize now there wasn’t much before this,
and I think we’ve had our fun.
I wish you hadn’t left me alone in the rain,
I thought this time was different, it was the same old thing,
no regrets from me, but never again,
and no song for you’s been written since.

Escape from Binary Land

When you found you could leave your problems
you conjured thoughts of soaring, free from everyone,
wide delight as your sky
and I found myself looking up at the bright clouds
staring at the wake of your passage
left behind.
I’d sacrifice my perception to
join you in your sublime conception,
your Escape,
but to my feet the ground is unyielding
clinging casually with strength unmatched

Thus a dismal reality of time, this doleful reality of mine
Abides.

I used to wait on the hilltop from whence you took flight
to linger till your return to our lives
plucking at grass stems that sighed in the winds
giving voice to my thoughts.
As grains of sand trickled between my fingers
counting the seconds we were apart
I’d watch the light glinting off the solid stones in my path
weighing them in my mind against the starlit clouds
and think of your departure…
the solidity of Earth to me
was plentiful reality,
not to be deceived by me.
How you see if for yourself
remains, to all but you,
a mystery.

Since that day when down I toiled from rocky pinnacle to cold, damp soil,
I lift my head not to moon or cloud, fallen star or blazon sky.
And when the morning sun arises, its glamour diminished through a haze of morning fog,
‘tis down I cast my sight upon the streets of stone
and raise up not my eyes.
Yet when I chance to risk a glance upon a bird of flight
my thoughts cannot elude thoughts of you
and upon the bird I do espy
that wings of fancy are given at birth
not freely granted to meandering minds
and hence I cast my eyes down cold
to walk this granite path of mine.