The Triolet Trail

B.D. Eyeslie

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‘Round harbors, praying on the discarded,
children go through the pockets of the damned.
Sailors, who thought themselves free, lie martyred
‘round harbors. Praying on the discarded
flotsam, kids look for treasures unguarded
mixed in between the bodies in the sand
‘round harbors. Praying on, the discarded
children go through the pockets of the damned.
 
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Perscribo

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Children go through. The pockets of the damned
give no quarter to frail youth, who are apt
to thwart the dueling swords, their hearts too crammed.
Children go through the pockets of the damned,
grasping lockets stolen when they were scammed,
and the map that shows where all the kidnapped
children go. Through the pockets of the damned,
give no quarter to frail youth who are apt.
 
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kdnxdr

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give no quarter! to frail youth who are apt,
let them find their way! what need they have
through streets of mistrust, a trap?
give no quarter, to frail youth who are apt,
who dance, disingenous, at every snap;
the culture is their annointing salve,
give no quarter to frail youth who are apt,
let them find their way! what need they have?
 
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onestepp

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Let them find their way! what need they have
St. Elmo's fire and the northern most star
On the horizon with a white moon's halve
Let them find their way! what need they have
The magical waves of midnight's soothing salve
Comfort aided worried souls from afar
Let them find their way! what need they have
St. Elmo's fire and the northern most star!
 

poetinahat

say it loud
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St. Elmo's fire and the northernmost star
inspire the neighbourhood dreamers tonight.
Lofty, distant, bright and cold as they are,
St. Elmo's fire and the northernmost star
shine on poets, each a fey avatar
of their endless, useless powers. Might
St. Elmo's fire and the northernmost star
inspire the neighbourhood dreamers tonight!
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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Inspire the neighbourhood dreamers tonight.
Stray the streets along with us lunatics.
We'll dance in the dark and under streetlights
inspire. The neighbourhood dreamers tonight,
meanwhile, may cool on the fire escape's flight
while looking down as madmen and halfwits
inspire the neighbourhood. Dreamers unite!
Stray the streets along with us lunatics.
 
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poetinahat

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Stray the streets along with us. Lunatics
rustle papers and try to guess our names
in song, beating time with their walking-sticks.
From one lamplight to the next, our heel-clicks
keep time, as a dabbing pointillist picks
each colour-fleck and its place in the frame.
Stray the streets along with us, lunatics!
Rustle papers and try to guess our names!
 
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kdnxdr

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rustle papers and try to guess our names,
patriots in resistance, equal in freedom's struggle;
when you come to take us, expect our passions' flames,
rustle papers and try to guess our names.
regardless the loss and misery's inflicted pains,
our life we give to liberty, justice struck for all;
rustle papers and try to guess our names,
patriots in resistance, equal in freedom's struggle.
 
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onestepp

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Patriots in resistance, equal freedom's struggle
All gather each night at the liberty tree
Raised voice in song, raised flag, tea did guggle
Patriots in resistance, equal freedom's struggle
Against unlawful restraints and willingly smuggle
People to assembles imprisioned to set them free
Patriots in resistance, equal freedom's struggle
All gather each night at the liberty tree.
 

kborsden

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Where opinions have a distinct aroma.
All gather, each night, at the liberty tree
to tell the tales of your forgotten friends
who are less than flesh—in only memory,
all gathered each night. At the liberty tree,
and under its shade, by an outline, we see
them and their former restrictive grave attend
all. Gather each night at the liberty tree
to tell the tales of your forgotten, friends.
 

kdnxdr

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to tell the tales of your forgotten friends
you must conujure up memories that lurk within;
recount the buried past, where truth attends,
to tell the tales of your forgotten friends.

to the insignificant, who faithfully followed, you sinned,
bullied your way and broke their hearts to the end;
to tell the tales of your forgotten friends,
you must conjure up memories that lurk within.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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You must conjure up memories that lurk within;
then raise your glass and drink with me.
We'll drink to the departed, and speak of the sins
you must conjure up. Memories that lurk within
tend to make men bold—fistfights you will always win
in hindsight. Too drunk to believe?
You must. Conjure up memories that lurk within;
then raise your glass and drink with me.
 

kdnxdr

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then, raise your glass and drink with me!
To birth and death and all that's inbetween.
Naked we came, with nary a clue, naked we go; so,
then raise your glass and drink with me!
If all we get is this life's lot, there's nothing really free;
better to believe in a greater scheme:
then, raise your glass and drink with me,
to birth and death and all that's inbetween!
 
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onestepp

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To birth and death and all that's inbetween
moments lost remembered through the years
an hourglass of times pictured unseen
to birth and death and all that's inbetween
caught like large islands in the stream
moved by emotional stress and tears
to birth and death and all that's inbetween
moments lost remembered through the years
 
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Perscribo

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Moments lost, remembered through the years,
torment the lot of us. When we awake,
there is naught but the forward face that fears
moments lost. Remembered through the years
are the expurgated stories one hears.
The vacancies make us long to remake
moments lost remembered-through. The years
torment the lot of us when we awake.
 
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kdnxdr

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torment, the lot of us when we awake,
aware our dreams are much preferrred;
with the advent of the day, others, who on the take,
torment the lot of us, when we awake.
drained by cares and drama, it's joy we forsake;
praise and thanks so seldom heard
torment the lot of us, when we awake,
aware our dreams are much preferred.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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Aware our dreams are much preferred,
in revelry we spend our nights
in complete madness, though absurd,
aware. Our dreams are much preferred
to the tameness of life, demure,
yet a hostile world makes you quite
aware. Our dreams are much preferred.
In revelry we spend our nights.
 

CDSinex

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In revelry we spend our nights,
to leisurely repent next day.
Ah, how time flies when we delight
in revelry. We spend our nights
unconcerned; for it's not our plight
to worry if the piper's paid.
In revelry, we spend our nights—
to leisurely repent next day.
 
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kdnxdr

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to leisurly repent next day
as if the world were ours to spend
every moment, nought but play,
to leisurely repent next day
brings us lack and strong dismay
wishing life once more begin
to leisurely repent next day,
as if the world were ours to spend.
 

onestepp

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As if the world were ours to spend
the oceans gather at it's tides
with the sun and moon to tend
as if the world were ours to spend
waves wash away and mend
sorrows of our souls hides
as if the world were ours to spend
the oceans gather at it's tides.
 

kdnxdr

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the ocean gathers at its tide
packs her bags, intent to leave forever;
tumultuous, herself beside,
the ocean gathers at its tide;
a thousand leagues she's cried,
distraught becomes a thether;
the ocean gathers at its tide,
packs her bags, intent to leave forever
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Packs her bags, intent to leave forever,
but stops for one last kiss goodbye.
She lingers on my lips and then never
packs her bags. Intent to leave forever,
her histrionics completely severs
love. She, once it had gone awry,
packs her bags, intent to leave forever,
but stops for one last kiss goodbye.
 
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Perscribo

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Butts, tops; for one last kiss goodbye
groupies expose the sexy parts
without a thought. Each wants to cry
but stops, for one last kiss goodbye
might be enough to dry their eyes
'til the next gig. The music starts
but stops for one, last kiss: "Goodbye
groupies! Expose the sexy parts!"
 

kdnxdr

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groupies, expose the sexy part;
delivering the goods, for dollars.
(looking for love is a poisoned dart)
groupies expose the sexy part.
in business, no need for a heart,
ignore the newcomer when she hollars;
groupies! expose the sexy part,
delivering the goods for dollars.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Deliver the goods for whatever amount of dollars.
Lost in the hood? Say your goodbyes
to the strangers above who shut out such fearful callers.
"Deliver the goods!" For whatever amount of dollars,
you can't buy an easy exit from this looming horror.
Life is good! You don't want to die.
Deliver the goods for whatever amount. Of dollars
lost in the hood, say your goodbyes.