1. |
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Isolation and the period pieces
of Edwardian though Victorian days,
even the ones filmed in the 80s.
They did so well
at dressing up to stay home:
clarity through style,
til having it all ain't enough
and someone rebels.
I'm gonna change my look
to velvet and silk:
floral embroidered cuff and collar
and faux-fur coats,
with a rose in my lapel.
Man-bun to a ponytail
of a Victorian gentleman
who says goodbye
like it's his last farewell.
Can you tell me the meaning
of a madman searching for meaning?
I've been chasing my hat in the wind
like some old re-enactor who'd be damned
to feel human again.
To take something so old
and make it new again:
the mask that won't come off;
the fire of the human heart.
I learned calligraphy,
admirable for a lefty.
I send you letters,
though we live in the same adobe.
I make my way to the post
in my brand-new used clothes.
Everyone looks at me like I'm a ghost.
Their eyes say, "Don't touch me, bro."
Have I appeared to reappear?
Create or recreate?
I just don't know.
My bits and bobs don't feel like my own.
Home feels like visiting
a place I lived long ago.
The places I longed to leave
are the places I wish to go.
Can you tell me the meaning
of a madman searching for meaning?
I've been chasing my hat in the wind
like some old re-enactor who'd be damned
to feel human again.
To take something so old
and make it new again,
in the mask that won't come off,
by the fire of the human heart.
So I look to the sky for a friend.
Hey there, old Orion,
tell me what the Greeks were on
when they stitched you to the sky
a hunter.
Was it mad honey or mead?
Dreamfish or hashish?
I've heard good things can happen
to people struck by lightning.
You see, I've come to know the sorrow
of a hunter hunted by the hunter’s moon,
who prefers the drum or flute
to the bow and arrow
of life-eats-life truth.
I'll be damned
to feel human again
in the mask that won't come off
all aglow
by the fire
of the human heart.
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2. |
The Age of Middle Age
06:29
|
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I think about the end times
when I open cans of soup
—that would be every day—
Scriabin's “Mysterium” in my head
when I turn on the news.
I prefer the AM radio.
Give me a baseball game.
Did I ever tell you that I used to play?
Oh, there I go again
with the did-I-ever-tell-you’s.
This must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
of middle age.
I talk to myself at the grocery store;
the people think I’m insane.
It's the 90's songs they play:
25 years now, and I still know every word
but forgot what I came here for.
My, what a nice looking pie!
My phone just died…
Do you have the time?
It's getting dark outside.
I can't drive at night
—the headlights are too bright—
but that doesn't stop me from considering
trading in my van for a Camaro.
This must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
of middle age.
I can't run like I used to.
Wouldn't want to anyway.
I got a bum knee,
kicked by the horse I freed
from a cattle guard.
Got to be a metaphor for something in that.
I can predict the weather now
—better than any weatherman or woman—
just by the ache in my knee.
How's that for using your pain for good?
It looks like sunshine for days.
I'll have to wear sunscreen night and day…
This must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
of middle age.
I'm a morning person now.
Life no longer depends on coffee.
Movie night knocks me out.
Come morning, my wife tells me the story.
I prefer her version anyhow.
I wear suspenders with my belt,
take on projects I know nothing about,
Google Earth tours of old hoods and
jigsaw puzzles to calm down.
I need to rest if I'm to be tired.
I'll have a bath to Chopin’s Nocturnes
—if I can get this damn thing to play.
This must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
this must be the age,
of middle age.
Oh, did I ever tell you…
I'm sorry, what's that you say?
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Michael Henry Collins Taos, New Mexico
Michael plays nearly 200 shows a year. His song “Witness” premiered on NPR's World Cafe. He was featured in American
Songwriter magazine. His single here entitled "More Years" premiered on the Acoustic Cafe.
americansongwriter.com/michael-henry-collins-opens-up-with-more-years-with-you-than-not/
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