done with it

blah blah blah...

useless useless

random words for 2 people to read.

blah blah blah...

thank you, that is all.

i will no longer share.

my writing will remain private.

thank you joanna and mom...

for listening.

sugar cereal guilt

time balanced on the steeple
of my young and restless temple
this season's but a brief and lonely phase
my days still waxing with the pale ale moon

picking up old habits in my new found habitat
greasy food and good times every night
wash my baby face, in the sink when i get home
can't wash clean my conscious, not tonight

get off work and go home to a silent sleepy house
lazy neighborhood arise; the cars are pulling out
want to eat some cereal but it's my evening meal
had some late last night, 3 bowls; that breakfast wasn't real

called you way too early; i can hear a hint of hunger
something younger that i lost awhile ago
years of learning what my false start freedom would be like
drained much of my life, my curious light

three alarm clocks still can't drag my blessed body out
of the the best dreams that i've had in years
waking fears on wood floors, 6 feet down, and vertical
sleep, it comes in waves; i'm nearly ready

1:30, finally, summons midnight quiet
roaring water dreams to summer storms
please, sweet sunrise...i could get up now,
but i think i'll lay here just an hour more
3:30 a.m. turns to 4-O-clock, soft
and i'm up to muddy coffee and a walk

the birds start talking tall, as if to call me out

taking walks by myself, cause round 'bout 4 a.m.
there's nobody to talk to but myself, and then
the sun starts coming up, on a blue day bobbin' up
like some sign god caught a fish in heaven's pond
at least i know he'll reel it in each morning till i'm gone
at least i got to see this dayglow dawn

it was a strange vision

those things which i live for
the lazy morning start
the long drawn out evening
the burning nostalgia

i only want a part
my own peace of mind
a corner of your heart
a piece of your mind

my bit of hell on earth
a punch to your face
a mouth full of gasoline
too much space between us

those things i will die for
a message in my soul
not a false family of fools
a black dream without a toll

fist fight dreams
a bloody smile
our struggle
was oh so sweet

on the clock

every night, once i'm on the clock
i start hearing it, the music
knockin' at the back door
in four part harmony
a chorus, a melody,
distant but approaching

you're the closest thing to music
that i got in my life right now
want to hold you in my arms
like my guitar
get you singing like the strings,
my muse, for me

sometimes feel like i need
some new place to hang my hat
want to hang my head and cry
feel i can't try
to get you feeling like i do
'bout you and i

do you want to see me in the mornin'?
all i want to do
when i get off the clock
is see you
i like the way you make me feel
but that's not nearly real enough
it's just a dream
i cannot seem
to wake myself from

soar to your doorstep in the mornin'
just to see you
for a minute 'fore you
head on out to work
call it what you will
but i still can't tell
just what you mean to me
a second chance
a glancing shot off fate
a weekend friend
a spinning victory pose casualty

how will you score?

i'm a george washington cigarette cherry chopper
i'm a coke bottle glasses wearing, mop topper
i'm neither here, nor there
i'm every prayer unanswered
i'm unaware of stares from strangers
neither yes nor no to this cancer

takes time to tell tall tales
eat every eggshell, emptied elegantly
sweet songs sometimes seem so stale
tastes timidly toxic, till table tops turn

you're a straight A, baby boomer born, teenybopper
you're a broken hearted wrist watch stopper
you're a hesitant hand raiser
you're sharp as an axe; heavy stacks
you're plucking a harp with a hacksaw
rather hear no, than yes round my back

empty pools

drove to meet my brother,
ridiculous, dancing embarrassment
first beer in my hand
pack of lucky strikes, filterless
2nd story porch view
empty pool, full of dead leaves
the city trees stand lifeless

tried to join my lover,
ambiguous, quiet, bulimia
her hand wrapped in mine
over sized sleeve swallows them both
see across the carpet
empty eyes like two dark pools
lifeless limbs, swimming pose

couldn't find my footing
in dreaming, silent picture films
my mouth dry and drooling
silver lit skyline unlike my home
city of fountains sing!
sing me to sleep, please, oh please
so that i might meet the sun

stormy afternoon walk

black clouds on the horizon were growing closer. as i walked by myself down hooker street, i breathed in the humid air and began singing whatever nonsense came to mind. i poured my thoughts out and let them flow freely for all to hear. i sang about the children i saw swarming across my back yard, crushing the vegetables we were trying to grow. i sang about the pre-teen gang members i see every day, making discreet hand-offs on their second-hand bmx bikes, nodding as if to say, "yes, we are going to make it out of here one day."

arriving home, i sit in one of the tattered easy chairs on my porch and think about the families living off the drug money, holding their heads just above the water. this storm is bound to drown us all if we are not careful. how many times have i had to sell my own clothes and playthings in order to eat? i don't know how i can ever be unsatisfied with my current situation. my thoughts and songs are always drifting toward the troubles i have, but i see now...i see how useless it is to fight it.

it's useless to fight my own battles. it's like trying to swim upstream when there's a perfectly good raft floating just around the bend. i have a mediator and friend who keeps the birds singing outside my window and the herbs and sunflowers growing despite how many times the neighbor kids step on them. i have no strength to weather this storm without him.

my songs shall finally be praises full of joy and peace.
this is the day that the lord has made. i will rejoice and be glad in it.

cheshire cat smile

when your house, no longer a home
becomes a fragile glass prison
class war among friends and
stepping on eggshells
sharp as glass under your feet
you clutch your love

when your pictures are ripped,
from your walls, are stripped
the sick twisted visions of control
come knocking on your office door
harsh as cries from prison windows
singing vices...voices sure

you're bound to fall
calling out some stranger's name
he made all your lonely beds
but you dream in vain
sleeping few hours in pain
in silk sheets of guilt
knowing it's all in your house
dress yourself in confidence
but wear a badge of doubt

all your life you will keep
that silly grin on your mask
i will not laugh at that
sure that in the end i will weep