Ballad

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.