Fire

We ran through
Every midnight pain
We were down
Where
There is no survivors
No one knows
What will
And will not come
Maybe it’s fate
Maybe it’s just
How the fires burn
But babe
Good god babe
No one could ever say
We didn’t walk these roads
We didn’t carry the load
We didn’t fight against
Our destruction
And hey there
Sister
Can you remember
The early morning
The smell of winter
Over this town
And hey there
Babe
I can remember
The smell of your perfume
Your head on my shoulder
Eyes so bright
And even the rain
Doesn’t bother
To fight
What no one knows ….
And
We ran these roads
We took the poison
We took the chances
Some of us left
But someone always comes back
And we pick up
Right where we left off
Both feet on the ground
Keeping rough hands
Dreaming
About what’s never been –
Down
Where the midnight fire is …
The whiskey is smoother
And the women are stronger
And they kiss with a fire
We wake up with the morning
Building a dream
In the heart of this town….

-E

Beagle in the City #290

Simon: What if we had pizza
Francis: I want chicken nuggets! FIFTY chicken nuggets.
Ethan: we’re having…we’re having…Space soup.
Simon: This isn’t very promising.
Ethan: It’s very good. You’ll like it.
Francis: Where’s the space? I don’t see the space? Are you sure you’re making this right?
Simon: are we poor? You can hit me with it dad. I’m a big dog.
Francis: oooh tuna, what’s poor? Is that in this ?
Ethan: What! (Slams counter) nonsense! You gentlemen, are the richest scoundrels I personally know.

Jessica

She’s got her eyes fixed
On the electric sunrise
She’s watched her dreams die
She knows
What life is
Nothing scares her anymore
And you’re going to remember her name …
And nothing scares her anymore
Her eyes fixed on her goal
She’s buying this town
Just to burn it down
Nothing scares her anymore
You know that she knows
And you hate her for it
Life isn’t just a game
She’s cashed out
Flipped it
You won’t get to repeat it
No second chances
You missed it
——-
She’s fixed her eyes
And you’re not it….

-E

Beagle in the City #288

Ethan: Simon! Come ON

Simon: (sniffing absolutely nothing. Looks back at Ethan)

Ethan: (Opens arms.) what the heck are you even doing?? I have to go to bed. It’s 8:30

Simon: Oh ok. My bad my bad. Oh also, if there’s bones in the bed. It’s not from chicken wings it’s from aliens…

Ethan: omg…are you serious?

Francis: oh hey, guys, I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But I just got a NEW scratcher scratcher upper. It’s brand new.

Ethan: Francis, I just gave that to you. Are you going to sleep beside it?

Francis: What’s it to you? Maybe I love this , maybe I don’t. I haven’t decided.

Beagle in the City #286

Ethan: Simon, hey, Simon, check this out. I found a documentary about poets.

Simon: What? No, I’m good, you’re a good poet.

Ethan: Simon come on man. I have chicken fingers. I’ll even make pie.

Simon: I’m sleeping. Good night.

Ethan: ….

Ethan: Hey Francis!

France: Yo, whassup wait is that pie?

Ethan: you want to watch this poetry documentary with me?

Francis: You know I’m always down to make fun of your profession.

Ethan: It’s not a profession, I don’t even get paid.

Francis: You really don’t have to make it easier. Just leave it like it is. I already told you I’m gonna watch the show with you.

Ethan: we can watch what you want next.

Francis: The aristocrats

Ethan: Again, it’s Cats- Aristocats

Bleeding ink #5,221

Maybe it’s a burned mirror

Maybe it’s a hurricane

Shadowed pain

I carried for too too many years

——

I can hear the crack of the baseball glove

I’m watching you do your best

Even though you just had open heart surgery ….

I never really realised just how old you really were—-just how young I really was …

——

And I know it’s cool

To have all these issues

And I know

It’s cool to say “they never tell you…”

But truth is-that’s all they ever tell you…

——

I tend to remember growing, bleeding, living…

Trying to find a way to spend what time I could, with you,

It’s strange realising your parents are just people like us

And it’s strange when they are gone

Suddenly any issues

All the rooms

All the drawers

That they occupied in your mind

All the questions

They are suddenly emptied

Fresh clean paper

You spent your whole life writing notes on – now it’s all empty

I guess I learned

Early

I did what I could while I could

And I’ve always been glad about that…

Sitting under a tree

Only talking about , God , sports and politics…just so I wouldn’t trip when you were gone …

But I remember working when I was little

And I remember the smell of all the old trucks…loaded with produce from the markets and listening to every braves game while we sold produce on the side of the road…

And I just wanted to say

We all turned out ok.

Because when you’re gone

It’s not like leaving home

You’re gone

Gone

Gon

So take what you need

What you can live with

Because everything’s eventually gone

And I won’t be here forever

I will eventually dissolve

And

It’s only words on paper

But all of this hate and bitterness

It’s not cool to stay a mess

I remember all the hate I held

Turned to ash staining my hands

The night you left

Realising

All that was left was the blood stain on the carpet …

And maybe it’s just –

Whether it’s love, whether it’s hate , whether it’s pride or Pain

It’s all too much for a heart to carry

So do what you need –

Whatever you can live with-

Eventually all that will be left of us

Is memory

It’s a fickle thing

And it always seems to change