Just another face in the flood of people

Just another face in the flood of people
An eloquent lark upon larks
Whose song is drowned by the background noise
Made by birds in their wildlife parks.

Sometimes I scream “I am sorrowful!”
Just to hear all the words fade away
Though sometimes if luck would permit me,
A reply of “You ruined my day.”

Sometimes I yell “I feel wonderful!”
At times when I feel delight.
They groan and complain that their life is a mess —
That if nothing else kills me, they might.

Thus I have learned to be vengeful
For vengefulness breeds best in one,
In a world full of people who all think they care —
It really all adds up to none.

The world may accuse me of heartlessness
Though they must realize that in fact,
When I shared what I had, they ignored me
And my heartlessness kept me intact.

At the wind, he threw each thorn

At the wind, he threw each thorn
Each dying moment of a lifetime
Cursing at the day that he was born
And praising life within each rime.

He took each tragedy in hand,
Clenched fists that comprehend
What minds could never understand…
The time I could not lend

To all the voices in my skull —
To all of them who seek escape,
To all who never shall
Withstand the burden of my cape.

To all the heroes and the heretics,
To all subservient Silences,
To all destructive lunatics
I give my broken sentences

For we are one within my mind,
This multitude of mourning dead
Who sought all that they could not find
In the grim comfort of my head.

Duck Song 2003

A long long time ago
I could still remember how the duck fans used to make me smile
‘Cause I knew they didn’t have a chance
To do that little Gretzky dance
And their team won’t be contenders for a while.
The past two months — they made me shiver.
They almost stole Lord Stanley’s silver.
Found them on the doorstep
But couldn’t take one more step.
And the Ducks’ almighty goalie cried
In front of his soon-to-be bride.
Oh something felt good deep inside
The day the duck pond dried.

So bye bye, pack your bags and don’t cry
Flew to Jersey for a trophy or at least a good try
Them Jersey boys weren’t believing the lie
Singing “Soon they’ll drain the pond dry.”

Did you write that ugly script
Where Kariya’s consciousness would slip
Because Scott Stevens made it so?
And do you believe he regained control,
He skated down and scored a goal
Which made it to that night’s SportsCenter show.
And I know I showed concern for him —
Imagine rehab in a gym
They wouldn’t call a truce
For that hit he couldn’t refuse.
Mr. Hobey Baker passed the puck
But then got hit by a pick-up truck
I guess Tink forgot to send them luck
The day the duck pond dried.

For 10 years the damned fowl has grown
At the pond where the lights once shone
But that’s not how it used to be.
There was the Smythe and the prince of Wales
Before those fateful expansion sales
And two goalies named Beezer and Guy.
And as the Kings fans settled down
From watching those poor duckies drown
The hockey purists spurned
But the hockey world had turned.
Jere Lehtinen had missed his mark
Then Gaborik and Richard Park
Poor Yzerman left in the dark
But then the pond had dried.

Helter Skelter on Madden’s sweater
Ducks flew south to their home-ice shelter
Brodeur’s luck went falling fast.
The puck had trickled in at last
When Sandis tried for a dump-in pass —
The Devils being haunted by their past.
The overtimes prolonged their doom
As hinted by that “Dream On” tune
And they all got up to dance
Like they really had a chance.
Their players tried to take the ice
To catch the whole world by surprise
By taking hockey’s greatest prize
But then the pond had dried.

Oh and it seemed they stood in place
Degenerating time and space
With no shots getting past Martin
So come on Rob be nimble, Scott be quick
Can’t someone lift Jeff Friesen’s stick —
He fired and the Devils scored again
And as I watched him celebrate
The duck fans faced their dwindling fate
The duckies were in Hell
Bound by Martin’s dark spell
The winning goal, a first for Rupp
The one that let them raise the cup
The Jersey shore knew what was up
The day the duck pond dried.

That’s when the duck fans sang the blues —
I guess they never heard the news
That fairy tales turn out this way.
I remember Jamie Storr
Who let too many people score
And I wish he’d be Giguere someday.
Back at the pond the children screamed
Emilio cried and Eisner dreamed
When not one shot had gone in —
The shutout left unbroken.
And the three ducks they admired the most —
Giguere, Kariya, Adam Oates —
They caught a plane back to the coast
The day the pond had dried.