The Night
She keeps her shame under a pillow
Her honour tied up with stabbing sheets
The motel neon light burns brightly
Another man, another night
Desperate hours, drunken by time
Cheap booze
Burning cigarettes
Addicted to drugs
How else does a girl make money, but at night?
A motel clerk doesn't raise his eyes
Doesn't see the ball and chain, the needle marked veins
Room 9 has thick walls
No one to hear the moans mixed with tears
One night it's a preacher man
Another night the mayor's son
Some nights it's high school graduate boys, two and three at a time
By morning it's her rising
Thin toast and a sweet orange,
Fake names
Fake moans
Torpor veins awash her glassy eyes
Twenty more dollars and a lonesome walk into town,
By night another pillow will bury her shame
A cheap motel will be her home
But no mayor's son will know the dream buried with the shame

Old Linoleum
Fate is the name of a bar. It is where idled men with old dreams drink. It  is where you can see their lives carved on their faces. Carved by a switch blade, or by a broken bottle, or by a slashing, cheated spouse with a kitchen knife; when a bloodied life bleeds onto the damnation of old linoleum. That is their fate. The name of a bar.

Donkey's Bray
I walked a one flicker ghost town,
Like a single spark in a desert night sky
From end to end I saw no one
I knew no one's name
Abandon lights burned behind dusty windows
The last of smoke floated from iron chimneys
Where had they gone?
The six shooter cowboys,
Long skirted wives in billowing dresses
Young boys dressed like their gun slinging fathers
Young girls dressed like their mother's to be
Where have they gone?
Only the grey donkeys bray,
I heard the squeaking sounds of swaying signs in the hot wind
The doors to the undertaker's workshop were open
Fresh pine caskets lined its walls,
I stole some water from a pump
Drank it from my palm
I soaked my bandanna and washed my face
The forgotten Cat House looked like a good place to sleep
I could grab a free beer at the empty saloon
But in the distance I heard the sounds of gunfire
I saw the flames of a desert fire
There was no turning back
I heard a song where it sang Time will Tell
I walked from the town,
I heard more gunfire
The desert flames grew larger
Maybe in time the next town will tell
Or perhaps I will only hear a donkey's empty bray

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wepBAVq_3jQ

The Storm
To you,
I don't have time to bless the night
I don't have time to pray for a new day
Too many years have passed
Too many nights have let me down
All my prayers for a new day go untold
I say there is beauty, freedom with an aging soul
Like clouds streaming before the storm
Escaping from the fire and lightning, the deluge that drowns us
No blessings from the night
No sacraments to the new day
Just as you, I am on my own
With this shortness of breath, a slow beating heart,
My life winds down,
Over the years that remain, I pass this wisdom on to you with your rising years:
All this emptiness of time will someday pass,
Be as the clouds that stream before the storm

Promises
It was early night,
when I sat on the edge of my bed
It's sheets barely made
My whispered words fell like a soft, crazy rain
The promises I made. The promises I made.
When my dreams were young, I envisioned a rendezvous
I promised myself, I'd meet a star someday,
Destiny would carry me with its great wings
Floodlights lighting up a stage
I'd know adoration of millions and a universe of fame
Every night applause would make my silk bed
I'd sing great songs, my life in key, I'd never fly from grace
But the promises I made I never kept,
The enemy of  talent and dreams kept me down, self doubt gripped my soul
I was never lit by a stage's flood lights
No one praised my name
I sat on the edge of my bed, and crossed my soul
The Promises I made. The promises I made.
At the same time of night I took the wired threads of passion and held them tight
I watched the sky light up
First the distant stars, then the moons and planets, I bowed to the great galaxies, and rendezvoused  with the applause of the Great Milky Way
By dawn my hand would release and make way for a universe's new day
I would lay back on a bed  barely made

Pearly
It was at dusk,
I stood on a dock and looked at the stillness of a Cold Canadian lake,
I breathed like autumn leaves,
Breaths of gold..and brown...red like a distant Harvest Moon
When a late mist crossed the water I thought I saw my soul
Fallen leaves floated passed the dock
They spelled my childhood name in brown and gold, the water a near red
My wool coat kept me warm, but I knew when the night falls, the cold would be too great
By morning the lake could freeze and the leaves could be frozen in ice,
My misty soul could skate away to be free,
I returned to the cottage. I listened to the warm laughter of old logs,
The space in between let in a cool air against the pearly fireplace
I heard the whisper of my dreams
I fell asleep to the breath of autumn leaves
I awoke to Harvest a misty morning soul...on the ice of a Canadian lake

Remains
My old leather boots will always tell
The story of a dusty western night,
Under the dryness of desert stars, I walk into a ghostly saloon
A shroud of a crazy name made for me: Lady Apparition
A room empty of human hearts
The Last of drifting smoke floats along air
Fallen Cigarette ash covers a rough hue floor
My boot's worn rubber heels take me to the bar
I spin the top of a three leg stool,
Counterclockwise, it turns as an old album,
Like a warped vinyl with a warbling sound; beatified by a scratchy diamond ring
My face plays a one man wanderer on a dusty mirror
Lady Apparition, pour me a five dollar glass of  dry red wine
Instead she pours me a glass of five dollars of her time
She says all her life she chases after shame
Hollow, callus men who cruise and bruise her midnight soul
The drugs and heartache
Near death, the loneliness cries at a saint's fallen gate
I ask her name
She returns with a nameless smile
I said she's like a shiny link in a rusty chain
Lady Apparition disappears into clouds of smoke, ashes are her remains
I drink from the last glass of time
My old leather boots always tell
The end of the story of five dollar remains