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Elegant Pond

by Adam Balbo

/
1.
Born of flesh from a woman’s womb. I’m bound by the same laws that are you. Freed from the fire burning friendly to my foes, held captive by their frozen truth. Born with no shoes on my feet. No comb. No clothes. No books. No common sense. All these things that have been given to me, I release my embrace to make amends. Weighed down by the anchor of prosperity, Cast from the bow of a ship called slavery. The salty sea that thrusts her sustain on me Is clouded with the murk of complacency. We measure all our burdens using different machines. Some still count on their hands; some use smiles. My pain is placed on a different scale. I see now some use rulers; some use miles. But whoever said that the green blade doesn’t bend Was either ignorant or just a liar. Invaded by the millions born. Shouldered by the many many more unseen Citizens of this united state of confusion. Born with no borders in my mind. No color code to divide the kinds. These invisible lines of national sands Have shackled the land and sprained her hands. The disparity I see disgustingly before me was rooted in the weed of supremacy. It’s time to subscribe to one united tribe to lynch the henchman of hypocrisy. But all these words and deeds that have been given To you and me – I return em postmarked somewhere to history. I was born with the call of the deer in my ear. And the well of quicksand that holds my tears. The traditional distance of the imaginary stone Went only as far as the sword was throne. The pamphlet to both calculate and hate Was proclaimed as oath at the empty gate. Now that the phoneline reaches well inside and back behind The big wooded door it comes as no surprise. But the memory of territory and space takes time to heal, let alone erase. Protected by the countless sworn. Frontline cries from the many many more unheard Immigrants to this united state of confusion.
2.
Moist War 02:46
Put me in the mirror or put me in a cell. I got a piece of Saturday, but I don’t know who to tell. My tomorrow it was drowning fast. No one told me why. Eternity is too far away. And I don’t know how to die. The mystery mistress, Whose footsteps keep the time, Her limp walk and funny grin Keep tomorrow on my mind. There is no telling Why or where or when or how the voices down the hall. The tile floor will have to do for now. But I don’t know where to fall. The sun set flat on Sunday night. But I knew it was late. I know the grass don’t always grow Where the weather’s warm. The food don’t always fit your plate. But everybody there was standing fast Pretending they know how to move. If the crow cries three times, I still might go blind. Then we’d finally get to see the tomb. From where I’m standing, I ain’t so demanding. Just ask the person next to you. On the other hand, My mind’s been branded. And the moist war continues, too.
3.
You Are Gone 04:23
You were never quite the same as me. Your hair was dark, and your tears were deep. You were never quite different. Your back was straight and your mind was bent. Why didn’t you ever listen to me? My tears were clear, and my talk was free. By the time you bought time, My mind decided it was ripe. But the future doesn’t hold on to no one so long. Didn’t find out that til you were gone. We were sworn to biology By the guards of divinity. We would talk of hypocrisy But always with some apology. Why didn’t I ever give into you? My reasons were good, and my mind was new. By the way, on that day, I was really really sorry that I did not stay. The future don’t hold on to no one that long. Didn’t find out that til you were gone. The outside was big from where you stood, With your steadfast eyes still inside of you. Your curly voice came and filled our skies. Fear not, nothing’s gone now that you’ve died. You never stood above a joke. You never talked down from where you spoke. My only regret that I have of yet Is that we didn’t take advantage of the time we could’ve spent. The future don’t hold on to nothing that long. Didn’t find out that til you were gone. Didn’t find out that til you were gone.
4.
Youth Ballad 03:24
Years ago, not far way, in 1995, We’d pretend to kill ourselves, just to stay alive. I was born, woke in the morning, in 1995. The world was flat from the back of our cul-de-sac. Up in arms against eternity, as we collected shame. Man it feels like yesterday, when we deconstructed most of our names. We were blown. We blew up fun. Man our minds were lean. On the footsteps of innocence, man our tears were pretty clean. Spitting out disclaimers for the pain we might have felt. You misgauged your worth to me, while I undid my pants belt. We were horny, our poems corny, in 1996. We know not of the old plot in our house of sticks. The year was 97 when were 17. You could have been Yoko Ono, if I could only sing. We were bored, but we weren’t boring. It’s just that all our friends were lame. In a prison as big and clean as ours, it’s hard to find space for all our dirty blame. We had a big old plate of now. And yesterday was small. We’d seen our future a million times. And sky was still getting pretty tall. The sun stopped moving, and I was certain that I knew nothing at all. But destruction and construction is the beauty of it all.
5.
Carol died on a Tuesday. It might have been last year. Well, it could’ve been a Monday. Someone told me; I didn’t hear. The cardinal’s tapping at my window. He wants to know if I’m hear. I didn’t know just what to tell him. I heard he liked my smile. I went out walking just to look for you. But I never caught your name. You could write it on my pillow, But all the letters would look the same. It’s hard enough when the sun comes around. At least I know which way is down. When I speak, you don’t hear me. You can’t get past my sound.
6.
I sold my soul, but I did not turn a profit. I lost my mind, but I found out how to take it. I know I don’t have a choice, so I decided that I could make it. Oh, I think I’ll go cross the hill and go explode some place. Go seek out willing arms to guard me and hold me in embrace. I was on my way back home when I found out that I was homeless. I was examining my skin when I found that I was spineless. I was gonna go fight the war when I saw the enemy was faceless. Oh, I think I’ll go take the field, try to avoid the mines. Go seek out equal ground to place me and pull me from my crimes.
7.
They covet rain. I’m staring at the mills. The people up in their towers, they are cleaning up their spills. Here underneath the blanket, it’s an ordinary day. The clouds are constructing rainbows for the not-just-anywhere decay. The grass says “huss.” It’s getting angry at the wind. The breeze knows where it’s going, but it don’t know where it’s been. Sighs like irons brush past you on your right. Your tickled tongue is restless, but it’s sleeping here tonight. Thoughts like rice are cooking gently on your stove. Your sisters all sit like jewelry, while your fathers still walks like ghosts. The flame is burning next to me. Your dress is like my name, Hanging loosely from your skin. My letters do the same. The room was full of leaders there with no one there to follow. Your mind was sold off piece by piece, but your body you still have to borrow. Your refrigerator belt was broken. The students all are tired. The custodian was melted down. And the money makers all are wired. We all are parts, but we don’t smell like machines. No, I don’t feel like an accident or someone else’s dream. Loneliness is our worry. Our worry is our death. Death comes from too much living trapped deep inside our own breath. We forget that we remember and were never taught to learn. Beauty is our destruction as well as the ugliness we birth. The comfort I have in giving that which I have not received is the one condolence that I have for having faith in my state of disbelief. The actors are just pretending. The stripper, she’s a tease. The firefighters used to be philosophers when they were down on their knees. The photographers were blinded by the letters the letters they had to write. The sold off much of their equipment, but are still fighting for the copyrights. The priests turned to sailors. The Sailors all retired. Kingdom come was coming in, but somewhere had yelled “fire.”
8.
The sun ain’t shining anywhere. The clouds, they are hiding. I was born on the other side. Ever since, I’ve started dying. The air is getting harder to breathe all the time. Good thing the sky don’t mind. I was leaning on the weeping willow tree, Trying to manufacture a sigh. The days passed by when I was inside. I’ve been in my body this whole time. You’ve been in the western US, trying to find the big sky. Mountains kept kicking you out there. Did you ever get to ask them why? I would read you like a book and see you pages of nonsense. I’d open you up right to page one If I could only find your table to contents.
9.
I wrote this song in one night. Partly cuz I had to fill up all these lines. Some time is right for striking. The meek ain’t afraid of anyone’s lightning. Won’t we ever know who is over there? The heaven’s above, the earth’s below. Both can be quite frightening. I hope nothing ever does confuse you. I’m trying to use the same alphabet as you do. But my words tend to blur. And my sounds may seem obscure. The tribe you had to trap has had to escape you. Now the little men with unmatching hats want to try to tame you. You know it’s still yesterday in some places. That doesn’t make it today round here. Although I do believe in future, my grand daddy’s daddy who built the time clock. I hope you don’t mind me saying, sir. But I think your daughter’s daughter has nice hands. Yeah, I think I was definitely gonna tell you something. But sometimes my head just gets filled in the midst of nothing. Then I empty out my anger. I stare at myself til I become the stranger. Hubris is my acquaintence, and I just met doom. Since one of them is an old friend, I’ll introduce the other to you. I heard it’s morning over there in China. A man can hear anything. It doesn’t mean he can read a watch. And they all look Chinese. And though it is rude to stare, You heard they got a man who used to sound like hair. But you don’t know them, and they have never met you. I really didn’t write this song in one night. Mostly cuz I had to fill up all these lines. Some time is prime for reflecting. But your cheeks will blow til your horns defective. Won’t I ever know when to hold my tongue? But do you really think just because they loose it means we’ve won? You know what they say about evil? It’s really really really really bad. But talking’s just absurd. So let’s abolish spoken word. As of now who’s got anything good to say? So, close your eyes, clasp your hands, and think.
10.
Everybody wonders where the spaces get their names. No one can quite figure out which distance there is to blame. The morning cardinal’s counting on his fingers. The jellyfish are busy writing jingles. The phoenix bird is looking east. Take me to the pond, or you can take me to the lake. Take me to where the ocean ends but do it for your own sake. The parakeet told me that he knows the way. But his gate key was lost in some poker game. But the bird tells me he’s looking up. My hair is brown. My lips are old. And you have seen this nose. I’m sitting down. Now I’m standing up. And I try to feel my own toes. Everybody’s seen this kind of thing before. Someone will still ask you if you do or don’t ignore the kind of shit they’ve heard goes down. The battleground was thick with fog as you tried to count your dead. Your quiet breath always tickled me when you peered inside my head. You tried to hide my bag of leaves and my marble made of lead. You should know I left those things at home. I could talk in circles or squares or even hexagons. Eventually you’ll dig a ditch to see which side I’m standing on. The spade you are using doesn’t know which way is down. The feet you use to stand upon have never seen the ground. And the sky above keeps going round and around and around and around.
11.
I am just a white boy on a brown guitar. My mind is cold cuz someone left the door ajar. Jesus said that god’s still good. But that’s not why he came. The world turned round, we were bound, and the fear’s pretty much the same. My sister’s sitting on a fence on a highway near the west. It’s enough to make me think of regret and other idleness. She’s poker-faced with a laptop-head. She’s an advertisement whore. I was thinking I must be doomed for so much more. But here we go with our color code. Here we go with our memory of hate. Here we go with our history of fate. Take away the “why,” and you might have “our.” But take away the pain, and we won’t remember Truth died just before the dawn. The lean lunatics and renown rats gather up their truths. It’s still hard to name all the blessings that mistakes can prove. But you or I cannot trivialize a teardrop. You can’t even make it freeze in a movie or a song. The super-conscious, super-sized poster of infinity maps out regress and bitterness and the ambiguous serenity. Your contradictions and your help are greatly appreciated. But the teachers and all the secretaries should get started on the obliteration. But here we go with our tribal code. Here we go with our memory of shame. Here we go with our history of blame. Take away the “how,” and we won’t see from now. Take away all this, and we might remember That truth died just before the dawn.

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released October 15, 2002

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Adam Balbo Ohio

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