Conrad Gamble

Writer | Director


It isn’t the door, It is the knock
It isn’t the time, not the clock
Don’t let the winds
Choose where your ship will dock

As one become
As though and so
The two and fro
And three and free
Four something and against something
Fists of five
Wrapped and trapped
Let’s hear it for the never clapped
Enjoy the silence when you’ve been slapped

Some wonder why whatever what
And whether not
Its her and him
Not him and her
Or her and her
Or Jim and Jim
Them and they
The gems that may
Make these days
This summer haze
Or will today
Be written off as just a phrase?

This phase is rarely just
May maybe mighty if made into a must
The shallows don’t breed the robust
So forget the push and live the thrust

If you are going to be jealous
Be jealous that
The journals want to be inked fat
As only the calendar ever owned the days
The past is for parting
Parting ways

The social auction
Bidding all as she’s the lot
Fingers brush through clouds aloft
To turn together toward the distant dot
Old record players place lacquered layers
Through upturned elbows
Open, as palms and shoulders close
Flammable hellos
Blow on belows

Understanding frames of moving heartbeats
That others hear yet we can see
Is it just fear, is it just me
Is it even my decision
Is this mess, or precision

The stroking looks
Softly sear
At the clasp
Beneath her wings
Her cashmere whispers
In my ear
A faded necklace
Released it sings
A freedom cry
For tingling skin

Liberating your wartime
Deliberating over more crimes
Melting you know I’m
Feeling your mime
Please worry about
I’ll be fine

Go without
Go within
Whichever swords you believe in
They’ll slice open something cruel
Insidious blood drops into our pool

So don’t fix your hair
Let’s fix our aim
At each other
As this life
Has no brother

Noon drops cotton
To the floor
The gravel fights
Beneath our feet
We briefly part
This one last time
Turn we do
Into each others rhymes
Burn we do
You see me
As I see you
Feeling lethal metal
Flowers blossom
Beyond mere petals
Pulling out triggers
Releasing flapping sniggers
Between the forty paces
Smiling goodbye
To our faces

You’re my only fuel now
Goodbye to lonely vestibules
Not others
That dolly
O golly
Half volley
A lover to uncover
The folly
Of my molecules
The ridicule
From that barstool
The ridicule
From that far call

Saying sayonara
To the singeing sap
Of rooted fears
Leaving Samsara
And the singing slap
Of Tabasco tears

Dying slowly together
Living briefly forever
Each others fools
Dancing the most blessed of duels