R.W.A.G.I.N.S.L.A.N.W.

Greetings, readers. It has been a while since I've posted, aye? I'd love to say I'm been neck deep in some sort of progressive movement, personal or otherwise, but I've pretty much been a lazy sunzabich. Drinking my liver to ruin, for the most part. All of today's piece were born of alcohol, except for My Lily which was a bit of a challenge proposed by a couple of friends of mine.
Backstory: I had this old poem named My Lily which a friend of mine was talking about. Newer friend, named Lily, wanted to hear it (for the sake of her name). I couldn't remember the bloody thing, so she challenged me to create another. It's a five minute monster, but I kinda fancy it. So yeah man... don't challenge the River Man. He bites!
Going to another writing group meeting tonight. Probably going to read one of these... everything else is still in the process of being written. Mind you, these aren't done. These are roughs... eventually (probably not really) I'll get back and clean up the loose threads. Enjoy.

Twenty-One

How many times must I
spread my mind across
a page before I find
what hides beneath
what lurks within
these ragged lines
in search of soul.

What is a soul
        to a scientist
        to a poet
        to our godless kind
and how many lives must
I live to find it?
How many have I lived already?
Shed all I've been
in blind obedience to
what I am to be...
(only to become myself)

Spent so many mornings
   like this
bathed in the twilight,
thoughts drowned out by
the passing train cars
before I can spill them
from my pen tip.
What has been lost?
Something great,
I fear,
lost on the wings of angels
trapped in my cigarette smoke.

I scribble still
in search of whatever is
caught between this love
of light and dark
in search of a soul.
A plan, an answer
a blueprint to this device.
In search of a number
as well, perhaps...

How many times must I
spread my mind across
a page before I find it.