Love and War

This is a short compilation that wrote itself; maybe it'll fit into something larger some day.
Anyway, enjoy:




I stumble up from my cellar nest, still drunk
to speak of the revolutions and have a cup, irish whisky -
Italian Style,

Oh how the russians drove out each invader
and burnt their own villages to spite an enemy

how peasants and injured nationalists
sought to consolidate their struggle

I stagger from my peopled abode
to seek work on Labor Day
　
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My own sorrow seems so pitiful, in comparison
Oh, what have I done,
how have I allowed her to run
into such
a
trap


I don't think we can ever go back

but I still cannot believe that

I hope he's taking care of her
as well as she pretends
　
　
Don't you know that I
am
HOME
　
　
　
　
I loved that winter when I would walk to your downtown appartment
and the snow falling between your third story window and the wells fargo tower
would make me feel like it was christmas
or think that we were somehow part of the city's beauty,
and that everything was sublime.
It was always so warm that we didn't mind letting in a bit of the winter
to smoke a cigarette or two.
And amongst the taste of lovely incence and fragrance of good gin
we would make love
and I would miss class.


Why were you so unhappy then?

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You should probably know,
that I carry a deal of regret
for there are some terrible things
that I've done, but of course
not one among us is without regret
and I thought that
  maybe
we could lose the memory
in each other's eyes

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After the revolution,

the mythology of the place was broken, and
 the chain of command fell apart
as the links became one

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There stood before me two sprightly visions,
one with golden tresses, and the other's crown
adorned as black as night, beckoning magnetism
as if to say I might soon need to choose
　
　
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Play for me something soft, and sweetly

Play for me and let your melody complete me

Play for me from your soul, your heart,
burning like desire

Whatever may be, may be,
but in the meantime play for me

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Love and War
E.N.
2010