when the party ends

you went to a rooftop party, last night, to get your mind out of your slump

but you only found yourself looking for a good spot to jump

it's all over anyway, you thought with watery eyes

people think you're wise but little do they know that you're hiding in disguise

on the train ride home you contemplated his energy fueled lovin'

and now that he's gone the only thing you can do is keep on trucking

it's daylight now, as you return to your loft

birds whisper chimes to each other, the sounds are so soft

but your mattress is hard, your empty walls are hard, your heart : a rock

when he came he swooped down and bit out your insides, just like a hawk

you really start to learn how backwards the world is when you reveal your true love to be a faker 

you stand, exiled in the shadowy void, existing only with hatred

why do things gotta be this way? : you think

you were left there to cry, left there to die, left there to sink.

nothing but you and all your battle wounds

no desire or direction for anywhere light, some nights you just follow the moon.

he's somewhere out in america, somewhere warm

he's livin' in a pace as fast as the particles swimming blindly around in a dust storm.

yet your still living the norm, because that's the way he left you

you sit in his chair, stranded, hoping just anybody would accept you

you crack open another budweiser, you have no place to be

wearily singing "hey mr. tambourine man, play a song for me"

but such a tune won't even help

not even a tambourine man can save you from yourself

you sleep off most of the days to avoid despair

but the winter has gone, it's spring time and all that surrounds you is the love in the air

it's like 1,001 tiny knifes all trying to claim your life

you pray to a god you don't even know, just to get through the night.

01

how are ya gonna catch the damn airplane

if ya can't see? you left yer glasses on my window

cill let's just hope those cute lil raccoons don't git

t them before you do, or even worse, at the same time

you do, they're known to go wild on thursdays and

they could make you uglier than you already are

not that it's a bad thing. you can always git a face

job. i'll get old uncle bilbo t set you up with his

surgeon. says it costs two chickens and some

sweet talkin. don't worry, you have a lot goin for ya.

clearly yours,

mama helmet

Here at Sunset

you always want the one you don't have.

and the one that you do have is always there.

and the one you don't disappears as fast

as the long island railroad going past

and you wanna believe that everything

happens for a reason, like the myth of

demeter and her daughter with the seasons

but you just can't seem to get things right

no matter how hard you try, sometimes you

wonder if you'll even survive. and your friends

start to change but then you think to yourself " maybe it's me"

your falling far away from them like the leaves from the trees

in autumn. and the last time you saw them they

were hounding you bout your new style or new love

and sometimes you look to the sky up above and

hope you're a reincarnation of someone who was

so fantastic. but when you look down, you spit

on the ground cause you know that the world is plastic.

and at one time it wasn't and you're nostalgic of those

times even though you weren't born yet and to you

they only exist in ancient genius' rhymes.

like how you feel old poets are your only friends sometimes

and all you wanna do is cry but your tears don't form

you must have ran out of them during your last soul shattering storm

and then in comes someone who convinces you he's warm

but he's just the same, as him, as you as them

you learned to tell peoples motives by looking into

their dilated pupils. and it's always loop-holes and mouthfuls of

manipulated morons trying to kill the high your on.

and everyone starts turning into the big bad wolf, you're so sick

and you wish you listened to your mama when she told you

to build that house made of bricks, but now his breath flown you

and your drifting in the mix. and you fall and land on your head

and your clothes are shred. and you see a little cute froggy

but turns out your misled and then he steals the only thing you have left.

and you can't scream theft! cause you're so deep in those woods

and you'd do anything you could for things to change

because you're so fed up and deranged

with always being the saddest girl

and sometimes you wanna say "i hate the world"

but what you don't realize yet that these times, these places,

and faces, hover over every single page you write

and sometimes they kill you like an alligator bite

but you should takes these ideas and tie em to a kite

and let the clouds carry them so you're soul and the sky can reunite

you're words will marry the atmosphere, like when the day marries the night

when the sky turns orange.

- Marilyn Metzger

January 4th 2012

the times they are a-changin

"When she said

“Don’t waste your words, they’re just lies”

I cried she was deaf

And she worked on my face until breaking my eyes

Then said, “What else you got left?”

It was then that I got up to leave

But she said, “Don’t forget

Everybody must give something back

For something they get”

I stood there and hummed

I tapped on her drum and asked her how come

And she buttoned her boot

And straightened her suit

Then she said, “Don’t get cute”

So I forced my hands in my pockets

And felt with my thumbs

And gallantly handed her

My very last piece of gum "

johnny's in the basement mixin' up the medicine

On Escaping the Long Green Dark Tunnel

(1)

She says I should be happy, for the misery has come to an end

she says to me that life just began

all he gave me was a mouthful of splinters

and wet eyeballs filled with fear

years and years and years

I wasted wallowing in the watery winter

I always chased the future and worried what was to come

I invested so much in him and in return got nothing' but a lump sum

he never cared or noticed that i was trapped in darkness

instead of lifting me out of it he turned his other cheek and went onward

he cheated, he lied, he stole my mind

wish i could kill him, expose him, hit rewind

i'm forever damaged and always ready for more

walls start to build thick around my once innocent inner core

my friend, she says she hates him

when she runs into him at bars she won't even straight face him

he doesn't understand what it was he did

he tells me we're meant to be because we fell in love when we were kids

i look the other way , i must stay strong

i accompany myself with my best friend, my bong

as i exhale my soul dances up high

but when i inhale it back it sinks and it dies

she says i will make it through this, it just takes time

she buys me shot of jose cuervo and lime

let this numb your pain for a while, flower child

let it all go , throw your sadness and burn it with the rest of the pile

she tells me to run far away and accept no apologies

i decided to get lost in hippie music anthologies

and though my body remained in the same old room

my mind sparked and sprinted from all the doom

(2)

I will never return to the unilluminated world I once resided in.

For this light, so gigantic, has shaken my soul

and it feels as though, it's frolicking inside of me,

dancing with the wind my body feels from the outside.

I am one with the universe now.

Excitement turns into peace as

I calmly stroke the barks of the trees

their branches begin to sway

to the movement of the open air,

which opens my heart.

Dragon flies, the size of crows smile

at me as they pass…

at last..

the starless tunnel, that was consuming me

shot me back up into the colorful world!

I am here. Now.

And that's all that will ever matter to me.

a letter to a love of mine

hand and hand, we walk down 14th street

and I look at you and wonder why are you so

badly withdrawn. look at you here --

no emotion to anything, not even the

softest touch of the summer breeze

or seeing a bum old bird lady cry

could make you feel any sympathy -

there you go, manufacturing those

dark iron walls that protect you from

sorrow. but what you will find is that to

not feel is sorrow as well, for you dwell

in the same dark cave most of the time

nothing to search for, nothing you will find --

you wish you had some type of praise to give

or that there really was some higher power

who controls all of us, who makes sure we all

go to heaven. but you know you don't.

damaged - because you chose too soon

and blinded by what the human experience

is supposed to be. trees behind you, blow

wind into your ears, and sometimes i can see

that your brain feels connected to mother

nature but never other humans.

you tried once or twice, but it all crashed

and you expect everyone to be normal

but in realty the concept can't exist

because everyone isn't normal so

to not be normal is normal and

everybody is.

aimlessly you walk, and wonder if

everyone is just hiding behind their

skin. you stop to look into their eyes

but the depth is thin, you can't tell --

you don't have the sixth sense

to read minds or understand

the meaning of life through

someone else's perspective.

you get shy when they look back…

at times you feel you'r stuck in a whirlwind

of what everyone who allegedly cares

for you wants you to become…

and at this point you'd rather be a bum

because the anxiety you get from

feeling a need to impress them

makes you feel even more empty

and more lost with who you are.

you can't even tell yourself what you want

because the answer would simply be

nothing, or something materialistic

that would band aid your sadness for a day

and in a lot of ways a quick fix used to be

all you needed --

not anymore, woe is you

for you want insight and love and peace

and all those other nearly unattainable

things that only the people in the movies or

the buddhas and shamans find. you're surrounded

by a shallow ocean that drains your

creativity and your very own peace of mind.

hopeless, but pretty, so you'll dream

just one more time and if it doesn't

work you'll pray to a different god and

hope for better results. … ..

maybe aphrodite could return your heart

and perhaps satan could

sell you back your soul --

maybe this coldness

will slowly melt into what would

become something warm again--

and a lover or friend will

come back and you can live in

a place where turquoise petals

fall from trees which you could catch and use

to wipe away your clear tears.

perhaps there's a

letter you could send, or a bargain

you can make to gain back your strength.

or at least get back your heart,

even if it's black and blue and in pieces.

i really hope one day you'll find

whatever it is you want, and just know

that you'll always be my true love

you'll be able to feel the sun shine one day,

if you could let it.

but i can't stay to help, i've gone west

i've tried my best, but it just isn't me you need.

-marilyn metzger

long island, 2011

stuck inside a mobile

Now the rainman gave me two cures

Then he said, “Jump right in”

The one was Texas medicine

The other was just railroad gin

An’ like a fool I mixed them

An’ it strangled up my mind

An’ now people just get uglier

An’ I have no sense of time

Oh, Mama, can this really be the end

To be stuck inside of Mobile

With the Memphis blues again.

for Mallory

You meander around, though your existence is disintegrating rapidly

the battle to fight time is always a losing one.

Tattoos fade and turn into zombie colors and your body forms into a womans' figure

all that's hidden under the flesh, will always break through the surface

cells, swimming through rivers of whisky, will drown and decrease in numbers

yet, your heart is big, and wide, like bug eyes and fireworks on the fourth of july

but it's also drained, and nearly empty ;

those who surround you just want to slurp up what's left inside.

I wish a giant hand would spread open the sky, and guide you to what is still good.

I can see that your dreams were once as big as jupiter.

bunnies hide in the grass on your lawn and tell you secret messages

that can lead you back to good memories of the old sphere you once frolicked on top of.

- Marilyn Metzger

Long Island, 2011

the Tale of the Other Woman

far away, outside my door

i could hear the shot gun blast

wondering if he was safe anymore

hopin' he got outta there fast.

my door flung open, i heard him gasp

he said, "think i finally killed her"

he took off his gloves and boots and mask

it gave me chills like the bone of winter

i patted his back and offered him tea

for now he was distant and forlorn

said "just sit close to me, sweet pea"

in his arms, i felt so alive, felt like being born.

we loaded up the old crimson truck

with bags and guts, hair and brains

we roared loudly away and the chickens clucked

a bumpy ride, we kissed as we switched lanes

i looked in the back seat, but just couldn't tell

the color of the seat from the color of her blood

"together and free at last!" out of the window, i yelled

and soon she'll be buried in the mud.

we turned off the lights and hopped on down

my tiny hand carrying the smaller bags,

he was towing the rest of her on the ground

he stopped, lit a cigarette and took a drag

we were finally bringing out the old

ecstatic and in love, but shaking

wondering if this glittery feeling of gold

is really real or is he just faking?

so we found a spot and dug and dug

then began to feel a sweat

"we really did it" he said, i shrugged

she wasn't gone yet

there were pieces of her long blond hair

getting stuck to my shirt..

i kept seeing pieces of her skin so fair

poking out of the wet dirt…

she was standing next to him in spirit

i could see it in his tired and fearful eyes

his regret of her murder was so clear it

was like his pain was written in the skies

the final scoops of the dull damned dust

were sprinkled over the layers of hate

"we shouldn't have done this, we are just in lust -

i shouldn't have took her life, but now it's too late"

he weeped, and moaned and started to walk away

i followed him down, through the eery trails

"don't you see, this is supposed to be a glorious day!

for now our lives can be nothing short of fairy tale!"

he turned around and said "just go home

i want nothing to do with your conniving tricks…

you evil creature with a head full of poisoned foam

it's not her, but you who should be dead under the sticks!"

before he could say one more hurtful untrue word

i smacked his mouth with my muddy shovel

he fell down hard and groaned, his speech slurred

i grabbed the knife from his bloody belt buckle

i stood over him, "take back what you said!

i'm not the evil one, it's you

you'll always be the reason why she's dead!

i laugh and i know it's true"

i put him to his death that night

for he no longer deserved to exist

chopped and killed with all my mite

left his body there, alone, in the early morning mist.

i was driving away fast and started to grin

when i realized that i was the one defeated,

for now, their souls fly together in the endless wind,

and i'm still the mistress but the one who was cheated.

Marilyn Metzger, Oct 2011

Long Island