Writings by Thomas Radwick. Mostly poetry and lyrics. t_radwick@yahoo.com

Going Down

In all the people you see
You see it
What went wrong?

Something keen in the breeze
Keeps blowing strong
On and on

It’s going down
Going down

Every time there’s an
Open moment
It gets through

Chances ask you to dance
With what you knew
What do you do?

It’s going down
Going down

(I’ve been dreaming all my life
I’ve been fighting all the time)

It’s going down
Going down

Every time that I see
Our star drown
In the night

I can never forget
That it will rise
One more time

It’s going down
Going down



.

Blessed With Rainy Days

I’m so slowly seeing
The way I’m bound to find
Feels so righteous
Like I might just
Leave the past behind

Walking away
Led me to this place
So I go
Now I know
I’ve been blessed with rainy days

I have been a lonesome
Reckless drifting man
Who has come to
See there’s something
Else to understand

Walking away
Led me to this place
So I go
Now I know
I’ve been blessed with rainy days

(Always in motion
Dreaming where it leads
Didn’t like it
Always had to leave)

All those winds that gripped me
I swore were a curse
But they were steering
Me clear of
A course that was much worse!

Those lonely days
Were my saving grace
They made me see
What I needed
Now I’m seeking
What I need and
It’s here as clear as rain



.

9 Haiku

From white-bearing trees
the snow falls a second time—
sun climbing the east

Diving flight above
then bash! hawk hits a treeside—
just missed that squirrel

The houses and trees
made vague by this morning’s fog—
a world of slow ghosts

*

Alone under clouds
swollen with rain before dawn—
raven’s rasping laugh

Pigeon’s gulping moan
somewhere over the dark streets—
cold fog before dawn

Gull with chickenbone
sails shrieking over the lot—
chased by his brothers

*

Purple-faced clouds brood
on a low gash of twilight—
can’t look at the book

Gulls circle and screech
above a bare parking lot—
dusky pink morning

Spring sun appears and
retreats and appears again—
sky full of birdsong



.

Being Here

I just sat still
And in and out I breathed

I did not care
About stuff in magazines

An image of myself
Blurred and faceless glowed

Looking back at me
From a dark window



.

Flashes 20

A flea fart
is mightier
than art

A star
rots in
a palace

This blues
got ooga-
booga!

*

To know
how lucky you are
is enlightenment

Jazz musicians
of human relations—
improvising always

They’ll do anything to prove
they’re not the bad guy—
except not be the bad guy

*

Shoot
him in
the rifle!

No substitute
for paying
attention

“I know you’re
following Buddha
with that bald head!”

*

Fame
is
hype



.

9 Haiku

The growing approach
of a train I can’t yet see—
distant whisperer

Two women smearing
lotion gossip on the train—
faces, arms and hands

Wary of poop on
the beach I see angel’s feet—
little child’s footprints

*

Under a full moon
shadows of bare branches mesh
on the frosty lawn

Nothing but sky through
the train’s windows as it leans
through a long slow turn

Red cottage under
a giant wall of storm clouds—
a birdless stillness

*

A fluttering ghost
in the darkened train window—
newspaper pages

Three hawks circle slow
in the empty blue above
a scurrying world

 “In any case, the moon”—Jack Kerouac

Blue afternoon moon—
“illuminated clay ball”
bright as any eye!



.

Wherever You May Be

Why don’t you blow down south little birdie?
Winter is drawing near
Your brothers and sisters left in a hurry
Nothing is holding you here

It’s the right time … to ride on the wind
Just spread your wings and glide
Take it down south … hitchhike it in
Get off when you arrive
Get off when you arrive

Swimming the wind up over the city
Snug in the breast of the air
The city at night is glittering pretty
Looking much better from there

While you fly high … up in the sky
You’re blessed to be a bird
You got the right to ride ... the wind in the night
Far above the world
Far above the world

It’s lovely to see you do what you need to
God you’ve got such style!
Once you can see it nothing’s a secret
Been waiting right there all the while

And you go so … gentle and sure
Wherever you may be
As if you knew you’ve … been here before
Wherever you may be
Wherever you may be



.

Crack in the Ceiling

Poetry by Thomas Radwick

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