Trouble In Mind - Snooks Eaglin

if you do not want
me

I will live a monk’s
life,
not become a monk
but
live in that fashion,
wake up
and
live for the
act of existing
and not for
success or
gain

I will forsake
ambition and
try my best to
slide in with the
birds
and
lions,

those that
follow the invisible
trail of spirit and
science
and use their hearts to
move only blood

and I’m sure that
sometimes I will
fail in this

that
I will meet
some mornings 
with sleepless eyes
and
feel the exact
pain
of knowing that
you chose another
over me
and
that he feels your touch
and knows the curve of your
neck
and the small changes in your voice
as you
find the right words
to
express what’s
swimming in your
head

I will work myself
to exhaustion
to keep
the desire away

and I will wrestle with
my dreams
to keep your
face from behind
my eyes

I will
turn myself over 
to the elements,
to the day,
to the endless,
mindless, and
holy
rhythm

if you do not
want
me.

I have no right
to waste this
time
waiting 
for you

I should have learned
from past
loves

that this love

may be no love at
all

I should have learned
that the only thing
to do is
press forward,

achieve,
dream,
aim,
etc.

that the best life

is
a

light
life

untied
and

steadily gaining
on an
undetermined, 
pre-determined
point

living with
meaning
and subtle 
abandon

appreciating beauty
but
never
admitting
it

accepting
maturity,
prosperity,
and
utility

in 
their

entirety

always moving with
the
thin
red
hand
of the
clock

and never
waiting
for
you

the bedsprings go
up and down
and the light switch
goes off and on
and my car left for
what seems is the last time.

you say you’re
strong
because you can go against
your heart,

i think it’s stronger to
go with your heart;

to
follow it
through
hell
if
that’s where it
wants to go,

to stand with
it
on uneven ground,

on fire

in your arms 

how could words mean anything
as you stand
with glassy eyes
trying to
focus on a bird
or a pinhole of
light coming through
the bent wood

how could words be
any comfort
standing
on the steepest slope,

how could anything but
the impossible crawling back of time
gather the winter
back to spring

don’t get sick,
there are good people out there,
thousands

that won’t mind when you call them
hungover

there are
people out there,

beautiful people
and they
used to smoke,
still do
on
strange nights,
they
tip a little too much sometimes,
they cry
for
things that happened
a while back
and
they have gardens,
or want them
in their
backyards

poetry opens the doors
that have been
shut too
long

I guess you could say
the same about
lovers
but poetry might
be
easier to find

and I don’t just mean what
you find in books
but
what you find in
the worst rainstorms
or
mountains
you lay eyes on
for the
first time

a bluejay
perched
among crows

a splash of
blue
in the
gray

a phone call
when you need
it most

and
the cool press
of a wristwatch
as
time is finally slowed
at the right
moment

poetry is easier to find
but
it’s only a substitute

medicine for
an empty
bed

I’ve seen you
worn out,
at the end
on your belly,
beaten
by
a wicked world,
cheated
by a 
trivial life
that has no
time for
kind words
and thoughtful
pauses,
but
if you can stay
the way you are
for just a little while
longer
your enemies
will fail,
the darkness
will fail
in your
light,
and you
will not
ever
be 
moved

I’ll Do Anything But Break Dance For Ya, Darling - Daniel Johnston