Joaquin’s Benevolent Ballad
Venture with my past to be.
Our light feet upon lighter stones,
With disheveled winter coats
And penny pockets full.
As we crack our knuckle bones
To clever little quotes.
Through ancient land made by modern text,
Where day is still, like fixed vulture eyes
And night is prey.
Where the pretty people travel in mass
To avoid all fright and fray.
Let us go, when I am then
And you are yesterday.
To add a noun, a verb;
To allocate both bottle and drink,
‘Til we reflect it from the curb.
Upon the discomfort of our streets,
We can toast to those we’ll never meet.
“Be it by
Where be
It was.”
The apathetic cry.
And in our city of twit and twilight,
We can make designer hats.
Oh, they will sell to those in fright.
“For sun, for shame!”
There’s always a trait to tame.
With music festival at night,
We shall jump from roof to roof
And exploit our fault and flaw
With those of aided eye and broken jaw.
Then back to the vacancy hotel,
To sleep and forget upon the morning bell.
There, we will win our pride,
Hide our tears with The Times.
Let’s lose our thoughts,
And only those that pain,
Lose them to those that owe
For what we remain.
“Be it by
Where be
It was.”
The forgotten cry.
We will leave when we are done
With all of those we could never start
Through times of null, but fun.
With controller in hand,
We shall chose to lose a hold
Of the winds which we command
In our dining hall of grief,
Upon the foggy table of forgotten arms,
We shall sign our dues away,
Reclaim our bills and notes.
We must go, our fate must stay.
And we will visit space and space again,
When our times do not align.
To rest from breaking the hollow in our bones,
Clear clutter in our mind.
And we shall sit beside the moonlight avenue
To watch integrity race humility.
With bottle and pipe in hand,
We will lull, we will drift,
Each into our respective gutter.
Where you are now
And I am not yet.
“Be it by
Where be
It was.”
I cry.


