Saturday Mornings

I miss you the most on Saturday mornings
You ditched the latter day yearnings
for a piece of the pie
and a seat at the right hand of the Most High
while I
try to take this fake technology
into bleak realities
walk a mile in your shoes
so the little sisters can treasure me
like I treasure your memory
when I remember the pleasures
that you and a microphone could bring
to the ears of the listener
your mother cries when you’re missing her
my brother’s words can cause the hurt
that’s because the truth kills taste buds
they couldn’t see what the taint was
at least not in time
to stop the crime
that robbed us
of you in your prime
another truth that bombed us
the whole world is tuberculous
ran through my lungs and out your spine

The deed is done in the corridors of the lost
that line the places where the ghost is given up
we watch a lifespan shrivel up
to the moment when you’re naked in the ashes
of the sum of all our pasts
and the little crashes
that have led us to this pass
and oh my brother I could wish a thousand times
that these were not the lines
I tried to rhyme this Saturday morning
but this matter stays burning

The one guy that held me
complete, within his eye
now in the realms of Greek mythology
or a meek theology
white-clad eternities in celestial blues
chanting Ave excelsior
but you excelled more
and I’ll be honouring them that bear your core
a final trust and more
in the way and the spirit
of the words that you stood for
a vow on the field of war

I’ll hold this thing in place of an inner peace
our sins are burdened by our grief
the curdling milk of grievous loss
forever spoiling, belly roiling, I tried to hurl
it won’t come up, it’s stuck
sits in my chest like it’s going to last
a stone cast into a mind
eternal ripple
circled lines running wide
a rising tide to lift me high to bring to you
the best out of what I miss the most
on Saturday mornings