Thursday, December 27, 2012

congratulations

so today
is the day
you were thrown forth into the fucking world from you mothers nasty cunt
sickly screaming at the world...
covered in a nasty yellow slime
the horrid belly puss of fuck
so why do i care about
you made it to twenty whatever
surviving is not an accomplishment in this world
you dead turtle to the pace of progress.
what the fuck have you done
to warrant this celebration
someone starts the fucking song
and then everybody sings along
and they know every fucking word but mumble through your name
proof that you are completely lame
so how does it feel?
happy birthday
fucker...

reprieve (mercy mercy me)

"fuck yeah"
the sweetest relief
like shackles released,
fear unbound,
chains broken
the rubbing ofthe shackled wrist;
the breath from the undertow of oceans;
or the moment that one fine girl
out of my league kissed me;
the pressure of hours
built up like a crumbled fortress on
the very marrow of my feet;
the sweet sigh when the crimson
flows after a lengthy scare
at nineteen;
the removal of the cast
from the sweat ripe broken limb;
the last day of the revolution
when the birds begin to sing;
the moment it happens is the dilation of the iris,
the instant of the most beautiful thing one ever sees...
it is the sweet sweet sweet reprieve;
the last minute phone call,
for a stay of execution,
one more day
and i
never knew flesh could
actually breathe
and now it is all right
like the moment the blind man
realizes sight
as the most glorious moment arrives
taking
my
socks
off
at
night


Monday, November 5, 2012

time...mess

i’ve got things to do
places to be
women to fuck
with their perky little breasts
i don’t have time for this mess
i don’t have time for these thoughts
or your pretty little wreck
which does bear the romantic
foggy picture
of the innocence of youth
and the tragedy of death
and your soft and perfect neck
and it makes me long
for some water
or the bloody, bloody mess
the twisted metal
the marrow of this life
and you know that one
best
these days
but i don’t have time
even though your lips
look like cherry red
wine
and i long to
sip
from
the
sultriness of the
vine
but there is no time
i have many wrecks left to
survive
although yours might just take
the prize
but i don’t have time
no i don’t have time
but oh,
you do look so
fine....

Thursday, November 1, 2012

snow shelter

I could be snowed in with my lady,
There’s a blizzard coming down
And as I walk to my destination
Each falling flake
Is an earthquake
With a head like mine
Tonight
And I came in from the
Cold to find myself
Here
In the warm pub
With the cool d├ęcor
And the wooden floors
Yeah, I could be snowed in
With a single beauty
But here
There are so many warm bodies
For a more general
And earthly relation
I could be snowed in
But I don’t care
Me and the band are playing
All night long
And it’s a joyful sound
Downtown
In this amber lit room
Beyond the foggy windows
A light against the cold winter night
And dancing idiots
Just being human
I chose this life
Because it is full of life
At least a little bit
And it is the best of my music pals and we are
Trading songs
We love for the singing
And Katie is dancing
On a table
And the laughter echoes like
The choir of angels
And the feet on the floor
The thunder of the heavens
Outside big snowflakes fall
I could be snowed in with my lady
But me and the band are playing
All night
Tonight

Sunday, October 28, 2012

an ode to the things i didn’t do today

oh the time
down the drain
spiraling into a pool
of the simple deep sleep
of a hard working fool
and my body was a
tenderized
medallion of raw meat
from the work of the days
and nights
of bullshit moneymaking
and the five hour show
no break
and no ‘slow’ songs
to dance to
we kicked ass like a band should
and rolled in so late since the
money was good
and in the slim hours of morning
i drank myself down
in my dim living room
with a sweet lack of sound
but the ticking of the clock
while my bones slowly shifted
into a shape where i could lay
in my bed just a little less twisted
this ritual here
of each sunday morning
the religion of a guitar man
as busy as this one
the quieter hour with my ears slowly ringing
in the dark space of a dark morn
just before the sun breaks in
and a few hours later
i woke out of course
because the rest of the week
has trained me of sorts
sat around nursing a sore back
like a boxer
after the prize fight
rocky on oxy
or whatever it looks like
here i am,
a broken superhero
from last night’s insurrection
slinging songs into the hearts of the
sweet single girls
hurt by previous lovers
looking for a pearl
of love
or lovemaking
whatever they can
admit to themselves
and i had them in the palm of my hand
my broken bruised
guitar fingers that were
storming like lightning
last night
so today i have done little to
cut down the list
and the guy inside is now shaking a
bruised and
battered fist
not another day with nothing done
but i saw the sun
and grocery run
and i prepared a feast of flavors
garlic and oil
broccoli and basil
topped with
pan seared salmon
rich color and flavor
which me and the cat
known as
“mr. scratch bojangles”
enjoyed immensely
so i suppose here
late after dark
maybe i’ve accomplished
something
after all
my back aches less
and my senses are full
a happy cat
and the house smells of
basil
oh yeah
and i finally wrote
another fucking poem

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

number 3

why are there no
capital numbers
i’d like to write a song
and call you number 3
with a capital 3
but i am left with only letters and
T-hree just doesn’t ring so hard
you the girl i fell in love
with
in
this
bar
your eyes
your hair
blah blah bullshit cliche’s
how about
capital eyes
so i could say that one real good too
so fucking blue!
and here i am longing for you
from this dark corner
but
there is no
moment
on the horizon
all i have is this paper and pen
a fetal position
watching the world
to see if it’s safe to
come outside
and you live it so
damned hard
you with your fancy tattoos
and your flowing pants
hanging from those toned hips
and the slithering, sexy shoulders
i wonder
if you will have regrets
when you die
i doubt it is the man
with the pen and the paper
watching as you
dance
on
by.....

Sunday, August 26, 2012

transporter

telecaster blaster
that’s right i am the one they’re after
so you,
well you can call me master
a real cold cool disaster
spit on the mic
and tear down the plaster
oh shit man
that’s the man that rocks it faster
trans-post your soul
to the sweeter place
the sweetest little angel with the
sweetest
face
and now she gets replaced
and to get in tune
with the transitory soul
of the
moonlight
race
even if it’s all out of place
downing them bottles
sitting by the lake
and wishing
i was raging though
stars and space
to somewhere
my soul could finally rest
in
it’s
perfectly
safe
warm
place

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

ghosts 1-4

from a rust colored attic
floorboards creak
the ghosts waltzing again
his arms in her arms
and the ghasted hollow air
full of the echo
of silent
music
a clandestine waltz
'shaking like a leaf on a tree'
in the fall
and i am restless tonight
'a bug on a fuzzy tree'
the discontentment
of my middle years
too young for nostalgia
but to old for halcyon
what do we call this place
the listening years
in between the wild
and the waltzing
something in 5/4 out of balance
and awkwardly leading
down the path
to the fall
at least the snow is not here yet
and sweatshirt weather
made for a great walk
in the great woods
behind the house
walking stick
and blowing warm air
into the cavernous icy hands
stiff from labor
and cracking
at the edges from this
dry cold
it seems
everything ages
if you leave it long enough
so i will retire
to my workshop
to hear the long smooth
drawn out knock
of the handplane
on the edge of cherry
a native wood
hewn from the rough
woodchips all around
the work hands
my corner against
the coldness of the world
and it all shapes up
if you work it long enough
and the soul that soaks in
is greater than what
the modern machines
make
i will leave this behind
as a gravetone epiteth
i was here
i was here
i was here for just a while....


New Songs from the new album....

ReverbNation HTML5 Audio Player Widget

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

alarm clock manifesto – a modest call to arms

better wake up
because hells on the way
the silent killer snuffing
the truth while you play
better wake up
they're stealing your rights
they’ll be busting down doors
taking freedom at night
and the blood in the streets
and where the poor could once meet
to demand something more
will be burned in defeat
you have a choice here,
this is the spot
where we all grab a weapon
and we keep what we’ve got
the right to gather
and march in the streets
there is no greater power than
the power to meet
there is no greater force than the
masses on feet
marching and yelling
to call for our needs
but it’s not long from now
they will have us all bound
and locked behind doors
with a label in our mouth
we all wear the tee-shirts
like brainwashed robots
lining up for our bread
lining up for our thoughts
they’re coming for your children
what happens to them
they use the fear for their safety
so you hand it to them
the things we once had
the right to enjoy life
the right to bear arms
to protect all these rights
the right just to gather
the right to drive cars
the right to get laid
or be nude ‘neath the stars
you can’t make love in public
but now that means your back yard
the right to bear arms
might sound violent and seedy
but what if we have none
and the big guys get (more) greedy
they are taking our choice
to even choose medication
they will automate the cures
based on a small list of symptoms
that will be a dead line
and a pill will pop out
and the robot will scream,
‘put this shit in your mouth’
and if you refuse
they will throw you in jail
and your friends will have no money
to come post your bail
and your money is paying
for them to make your choice for you
they are beating you with your own stick
‘til you’re subdued
better wake up
cause they lull you to sleep
they’ve made all of these electronic
lullabyes cheap
‘we can’t have revolution,
they might take my phone dear,
they might take the blinking lights
I’ve come to love so here’
or your xbox or blu-ray
or your microwave food
if they took those away,
 what the fuck would you do?
maybe read about real shit
or how to build something better
or will you shackle down
and scrub the floor by the bolts on your fetter
wake up America
right down to the letter
the letter of law
‘cause we still have a few
we can still use what’s left
there are still things left to do
because the stonework of your rights
they are chipping away
from behind ever slowly
and approaching the day
the facade is so small
so pathetically thin
that they burst through, ‘tadaa!!!
now we own EVERYTHING!’
and the richest motherfuckers
don’t allow you to vote
‘casue they stole all the money
and they stole the whole boat
and you’re left there to drown
in the river of dreams
cause the dream part was murdered
it’s body washed up downstream
the regime of the wicked
will take the skin off your bones
how many jobs do you have?
just to get by alone?
they will raise the green whip
and flay the skin from your back
until they use you as an ottoman
after your heart attack
it’s time that we take it all back!
before it’s too late
the ships sinking fast
there is no time to wait!
this is the moment
there’s a pulse in the streets
there’s a heartbeat a thumping
there’s a stomping of feet
that’s our great battleground
the meeting of minds
peaceful or bloody,
whatever!
it’s time!
we still own the car
we can take back the wheel
we can open the door
and hand them the ‘new deal’
‘you work for us
you dumb motherfucker
now you’re kissing the curbside
you fucked up so, pucker!’
we own this car
and it belongs in the ditch
if we can’t get control
of the wheel from the rich!
Better wake up
‘cause hell’s on the way
we’re marching on Washington
by millions today
we burned all the bad seeds they give us to grow
the bickering arguments that muddy the show
the smoke and mirror tactic
to keep us all blind
like, ‘welfare, and healthcare, and unemployment lines’
we’re not slaves to the grind
we are the righteous and free
and rise up
we rise up
we rise up to loudly decree
this is Our Country!
Our Land!
Our Military!
Our free to live homeland
from sea to shining sea!
A true Patriot
questions his government
‘cause it’s the Country He Loves!
We’ll take it all back
if we have to with blood!
We will take back our jobs
from way overseas
we will take back our progress
we will make ourselves free!
we will tear down the banks
we will tear down the oil
we will tear down the wall street
we will tear up the soil
underneath the blacktop
underneath all the steel
underneath the very tires
on the big business wheels
we will plant a new garden
we will grow our own food
they gets moved hand to hand
Does That Not Make Sense To You?
instead of trucking that pre packaged shit
from one central location
lets plant acres and acres
across the whole nation!
we will clean up the soil
and the water as well
so that our childrens childrens children
can eat real food too
It’s time to wake up now
there is so much to do
we will take back these rights
cause its our last right to
by millions who stand for freedom or bust
by hook or by crook or by blood if we must
or maybe you’ll just hit snooze a little bit more
and fade off into the dream that they shove down your core
and cut off your future, while they fuck you, you snore
you can have the sweet dreams
but i’ll take the war
it’s time to wake up now
it’s time to come to
so tell me fellow countryman
what will you do?

Sunday, August 5, 2012

a brief but important warning

uncle sam,
remember,
it's our car.
you're just the
asshole we
are allowing
to drive it

Friday, August 3, 2012

drugs

if you were drugs
i would be a shaking junkie
waiting and writhing for each new fix
wildly raving on you
throwing my life in the ditch
i would ruin all of my
relations
torn down bridges only to find
a crazy man
scratching and shaking
and steadily losing his mind
but then someday
i would go rehab
and reclaim
what was left
of my life
i would purge you from my living
the poison
of my
nights

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

cold water

cold water
cools and cleans
the days face
and the summer
window open
but it's still 3 a.m.
and this is not a river
just a porcelain
patch job
and no rest for the weary
tonight

rag dolly

i’ve heard of a girl
who really needed flowers
and she was an intoxicating beauty
and that was not her fault
but he tore her wide open
when she jumped into the
bombing
the horrid wicked ball
and she was dancing there in silence
waltzing with a man
that is no man at all
and he left her broken weary
torn and tattered like a
stumbling drunk rag doll
and I saw her eyes still breathing
but her body threw the towel in long ago
and the last time I saw her even
the smile seemed like
it was stitched on with
some thread to sell the show
and I’d pay the peso
for a single glance at one
with eyes like that within
the subtle sign of a phoenix
that’s tearing through the skin
she is arching her back in
my imagination
convulsing before my eyes
tearing out and ready to rise
and orgasm of passion for the
liveliest of life
and the subtlest of nights
and the gazing rest of
stars inside her eyes
a rag doll to rise into a
carved beauty shining in the light
breasts perched to the sun and wings
outstretched for flight
and she will use me as a leaping stone
and I will gladly watch
her fading off
into her life
the creature she was meant to be
and with
my job done,
all returns to right….

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

ice cream truck

i love you like the ice cream truck
and i have never had one bite
i've never run out to the street
and i've never spent one dime
but i hear it coming up the street
and i listen as it goes by
and it feels like home
when i'm all alone
to know the world is alright
the subtle song
starts off real sweet
and then sounds like
elephants charging
in low bit tones like
video games
or pop songs
from the 80's
and you are not that vintage yet
but you'd fit in here just fine
in my crazy fortress
far away
from the excess of modern life
where we still make
things out of wood
that have soulful allure
and dance each night
to vinyl albums
that sound so rich and pure
the soulful kiss of yesteryears
and us both drunk on the floor
with the way you smile so sugar sweet
and live like you don't know failure from folklore
yes i love you like the ice cream truck
i hear it every day
and i'll never taste
for fear of loss
the day
it goes
away

Monday, July 2, 2012

this poem is shit (and death approaches two more steps)

we’re here a while and then we die
and that’s the why
and it’s why we try
but then there’s just this
you and i
you and i and here we lie
yeah, and here we lie
just waiting

Monday, June 25, 2012

armada

a withered flower
a smoky ashen timber
a deflated ballon
now soon
am i
destined for sleepyworlds
where immortal giants slay the
bodies left strewn and screaming
from this uphill battle
racing toward the last step
i took
and here in this world of noise
the ceiling fan
wrrrr...
and ac
roars like a disastrous carnivore
there is a blinking streetlight
and a headache creeping
the world at the door
and, 'nevermore'
or whatever
the morgue might be
my only respite
'a great notion'
but the dawn hides behind
the mountain
and there are bills to pay
and battle to rage
the armada of my aspirations
ill get em 1 by 1
and cats to kill
but thats no fun
its just what they say
for the getalong
whimpering there
at break of day
and 1 by 1 sun up
sun down
and i'm worn out
the revolution is almost over
for me
or you could say its,
almost here
and the prideful smile
ran out with the gas for now
and i'm all worn out
a withered flower
a smoky ashen timber
a deflated balloon
melting and dripping
to sleepylands
and demons
friends
i'll be there soon...

Sunday, June 24, 2012

burns so bright

i see the world in flashes of light
at least thats the way it seems tonight
a thundershower in my head
it crashes so hard
i must be dead
but not so much yet i'm
in my bed
and scratch is pressed
so tightly to my side
just like
when we are sleeping
this mental drug i've been working
leaves me needing
scratching at my side
now you get the irony
i am shredded here
and the music
takes me for a ride
and is
said to cause flashes of light
or so says the crazy banger
the bouncing animal
who sits behind me
when i'm watching
girlies dance and
move their glorious vessels
her perfect breasts
her jeans in tow
and shes on a roll
writhing like a lady
who is acting like a ho
whoa and here we go
with her slightly stated tattoo
the music makes flashes of light
if you listen hard
but its just the world
bro
fucking with your head
just like tonight
my heart is racing
from a world that moves too fast
like them honeys
out there
shaking that ass
and smiling
and here i watch in
horror
because its only the world
if you squint-your-eyes
you can see it pulling the strings
that lead to her sultry side
and its fucking with my head
the lighting in here and the boom of
leaden hammers
thump thump thump thump
if i cant slow it down or stop it
i know i'll wind up dead
but scratch is pressed up beside me
licking his feet
like something sweet
but i'm not
laughing tonight
i see the world in flashes of light
and it burns so bright
oh man
it burns so bright

Saturday, June 23, 2012

scarecrow

scarecrow lying on the side of the road
motorcycle wheels spinning too
like a halloween approximation
of the headless horseman
only
it’s the middle of june
shredded clothes
dirt brown
and all torn down
a patterned flesh
like burlap and hay
and there is likely
no walking
away
crimson in the grass
like christmastime
little bits of metal that sparkle
and shine
gravel kicked up on the road
in an erratic artwork
like pollock on speed
and there was a young girl
playing hopscotch across the street
when the sound of
scraping metal hit the air
and the slow motion ballet
was superimposed
on her flipping hair
skipping up and down
while it all went down
and the siren that she made
by the time the artwork was made
and minutes before
the ambulance
came….
....and i drove by
the lights
on my way
to something
joyful

Sunday, June 10, 2012

sweet vidalias (house of pain)


sweet vidalias on the grill
house of pain in the window
sitting on the porch-boards
old rusty lawn chair
sipping from the bottle
stars in the sky
fresh cut grass
and singing oh my my
and the cat in the window too
now
meowing out loud
and the stars started falling all around
slow motion spinning
finally the world was still for
just a brief moment
and i caught it but...

there’s
work left to do
‘miles to go...” or whatever
and a part of me is
trippin’
‘pack it up
pack it in’
i could get in 
the car and hit the highway
making a living
sanding surfboards in cali
or playing hip hop acoustic
on the beach
in maui

‘battle me,
thats a...’
nice thought
-nothing but the world
coming knocking
but i am here
banging away
no rest
for the
real men
and here i go
again
‘i came to win’
so sleep is a sin
or so i was told
long before
i got old
so,
here we go....

Saturday, June 9, 2012

missing pieces 123


This empty bottle of wine
This small town bar is alright
You were the girl
Outside the place where the lights went down

And I thought about the girl
Holding onto me
Closer than the water
Thought about a girl

Before you turn away to go
Kiss me goodbye
Kiss me goodbye
Now walking back remind me
before you turn away to go

I don’t know
Why I came here love
I don’t know why I came   whoo-hoo
And these stars seem mighty bright
That I might die
I don’t know why I came here

I like your new place
Don’t just stand there pretty
With that sad look on your face
I’m drunk on wine
So I thought about the girl
And she walked down on me

by the seas of my disconnection
and the silence
born into
the night

Friday, June 8, 2012

dream eaters


i wonder if you think of me after all these years
i think of you each time it rains
and when the sun shines down
i’ve had a silver ring
to someday grace your hand
but probably too late
and probably far too long
but empty empires fade to dust
just like a lonely man
i thought of you
in some town somewhere
i was lost in this big world
i would have called 
i’ll see you in the evening,
when you tell me of your dreams
the only time we’re not apart
is inside the walls of sleep
and the dream eaters are coming fast
with their bright white teeth
hungry to feast
on my memories
the only remaining place
that i see your face
and here they come
the monsters of my
lonely fear
and they are here
so
goodbye i guess
i will hold them off as
long
as i can
but there are so many
and i
am
overcome
so
quickly
these
days

Thursday, May 10, 2012

come down (the fire or the fuel)

she
is the
brick
i am the window
or something
like it...
who knows if thats right
maybe she's the lofty stars in
the blackest night
or perhaps a law broken
or a love unspoken
she is surely a catastrophe
and she is the loving arms
and the warm fuzzy sweater
laying on the sunday floor
and she is the glass of water
but
she
is
not
the rain
well, maybe the rain
if it were in a cup
bit she is not the sure thing
and she is not the luck
she is not a storm approaching
but she is lightning when she leaves
she is not
the walk on a warm day
and neither is she the
window shade
she is not the
empty street
but she is the breaking of the day
and thats not what i meant but
it is what i mean to say
she may not be the brick forever
but i am still the window
and
however it
comes down
she has completely
shattered
me

incumbent: or, what will

i am the man
the withered man
too tired for what is here
in front
and behind
so instead
i made chicken soup
from scratch
and contemplating the chicken
and how it lived its life
not expecting someday
i would be standing in my kitchen
rooting through
his entire being
looking for every little
bit
and morsel
to honor his passing
for my nourishment
and then i thought of you
and your candied smile
when we drove naked to the lake
for skinny dipping
oddly named
as i wasn't skinny
and you would 't dunk
your head
i guess tonight
is another small moment
in a life
amber lit
here in my sanctum
i suppose
i will find it
my polar bear on main st.
something big
to tear me
away
from my insomnia
and my incumbent needs
and all of this stumbling around
some might say
i need a shrink to
make me shrunk
and maybe
i need to be made
even a bit smaller
before i can fit between my sheets
to go to sleep
and not
stumble around my apartment
making soup and
shouting at the cat
to quit
his incessant whining
regarding all these chicken parts
in my hands
3 a.m. and
now for the spoon
and the bowl
no...
(not that spoon
or that bowl)
i am not
that fucked up
yet...

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

night slurry

night tore through
like a lunatic cement truck
bearing down hard
soaking all the world
in its darkest gunk
and i was the fool
at the bottom
swimming up
trying to writhe free
from this circumstance
this statue to
to world
and all my failures
on display
stars resting on my brow
at the bottom of the syrupy stuff
yet still
i was electrified
and alive
writhing
at the heart
with my purest
intentions




Monday, April 23, 2012

insipid blue light

tonight
this insipid blue light
is tearing through
the sinew of
my very eyes,
bloodshot
and boiling with
the fluid that is
bent and misshapen now
and no rest for the
wicked bullshit
which this modern world
requires
handed down not from forefathers
as the station of man
but as a new disease that we have all
contracted
this divalent
viral fungous
into the very marrow
of man
and here i am
a fool to still be seated
in a deceivingly hard chair
my brains melted down
to the floor
and i roll over them with every minor
adjustment
i have gotten good
at some
of these things
and others
i am so far removed
it wastes far more time than
it saves
and i long for days
of woods walking
and running through fields
i should become a ranch hand
and never see the glow of
the power
again
i’d be sure
to read
by candlelight
instead
or, fuck that
just go to bed
and rise with the sun
cured of this vampirical
disease
and standing in the
first rays of day
finally fit as a statue in the
gleaming of the sun and thus
modern man
reborn

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

waking

what waking dreams have kept me here
within the land of dreams
where i usually think on her sweet face
but tonight im lost from the means
to return again to keep her love
in the garden of time and waste
a rush to find the doorway there
and now i'm in haste to the waist
and thats not all
there is a tiny man
watching me
yes every move i make
and if i see him sleeping
at the slightest move and he wakes
so i cannot escape to where you rest
as long as they know you are there
they watch me now
for i had bragged
that you were worth much more
more than gold and more than steel even more
than all else in deed
and all else is mad
and sharpened the blades
to bring forth the war onto me
its 5 am and staring up
as sheep jump over fences
and all i see is your sweet eye
dripping in sweet confection
and i have spoiled the healthy stuff
now this one im sure i should mention
i hang on tight
onto the wire
strung high and high with tension

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

medicine man (or, fuck you, i tried)

i always knew
i was just your
soft place to fall
and someday
with wounds healed
you’d walk away
from it all
but the broken
things you left lying
were probably overkill
your collateral
damage
dancing
on the end
of that last call
and you didn’t know
that i knew i was
the doctor
and the medicine
that fixed you
was not my love
but your
poisonous
heart
purging
its yellow puss
all over my
clean white
intentions
i gladly left them
lying around
a sterile field
to soil
with the infection
you were nursing
along
waiting for
a soft
place to fall
and i put on my
paint and feathers
and played the
part to the “t”
a shaman all shaking
shakes free
and the placebo
draws the humors
from the depths of
her sea
and she was
not laughing
the slow
bleeding
and weak
and the patient
begins to shriek
and that’s when
you know its working
when they lose
the control
and it looks like
magic
and then it’s all over
and the shaman
goes home
and puts on a movie
another days work
down
the tube
and as he fades off,
one whisper,
“fuck you.”
but the only one
left is the moon
who smiles
and whistles
a tune...
p.s.
the shaman was me
the woman
was
you

and, oh yeah, the moon
was definitely the moon

Monday, April 16, 2012

if, but

if i were
a free floating seed
on the winds
of this
gentle springtime
i would
light a while
on her sweet
flowing field
but alas
i am a tree
rooted
and curled
comfy
in the soil
of my circumstance
and her abundant
nurture

Sunday, April 15, 2012

goo-night

marie,
they are after you
with their
big things
dragging and bounding
on the ground
all goofy
and awkward
with the drooping ears
and wonder eyes
goo-gloppy
love hunger
drooling from the corner
of the mouth
and staring as they bound
in your direction
soaked in scents
of ancient
and cleaned and useless
muscle ridden
they are the
googely trolls
of this bar
tonight
in the land of
"why-did-he-lie?"
so remember
when your years give out
be sure to
keep ‘em wired,
perky-
and-smiling
was your
best feature
so
i hope
you’re enjoying the ride
and the thrill of the chase
from that angle
you have
on the
whole
thing
dripping like
stalactites
in the caves
of your
life

Saturday, March 17, 2012

resolve (though it tears us apart)

to want of a woman
and love her like crazy
but she’s not your lady
when you take it too far
and she loses a tear
will you break from the weight
of the fear
as she looks at you coyly
in the lamplight’s dim glow
that splashes and washes the room
the deepest hue
of the romance of you
before you were lost
to the living we did
and all of that lying in bed
we wore each other out
on the other
it was the world
that tore us apart
and made a mess of
your sweet heart
and your passionate face
is now
replaced
by the emptiness on your side of the bed
the wretched world
was jealous
of our
incredulous joy
and the way your breasts
peak out
from your soft worn tee shirt
proudly shining
and dancing with the light
hide and seek bouncing
as you are laughing
and we fade off
into the night
like distorted glass
my eyes all bleary
and left in this dark
from the box by the bed
tomcat says,
“i’m gonna love you
‘til the wheels come off”
and that’s just the thing
the axle is already
shaking
and these nights are a highway
littered with all of the broken hearts
the horrid hacked up body parts
of all of this love going round
it’s the world that tears us apart
and the things that we have are
huge
and again the world has placed
 a brick wall between us
but i swing the hammer endlessly
tearing it down until
your tears
swelled around it
and you were tired of the sound
of my hammer and
of my
resolve
so now
it’s over
lady
it’s amazing how big
this old world can be
and still no room
for you
and me

Friday, March 16, 2012

whiskey (jolly good)

whiskey,
the say you are the
devil
but not tonight
tonight
you are the best
friend
that i
have ever had
in
this
world
as we sit here
late night
and talk
of
this
girl....

Thursday, March 15, 2012

low

there's a devil outside the door
scratching at my
resolution
tearing at my resolve
it is a horrid violent animal
a wolf that tears flesh from bone
and i'm hiding in here
all alone
with my terrible mind,
this horrible disease
that burns me down like a fever
and brings me to my knees
and i'm thankful for frigid water here
a handful on my sweaty neck
and i hear the scratching
of the clawed paw on the sideboards
hungry for my
sinful flesh
and waiting out my rest
to come crashing up
from a burrowed hole
and to be all over me
and my bleary eyes
are romantically enticed
to convince me
to just lay down for a moment
next to her
but i know this devil's
wearied whispers
i know just how it goes down
when she
breathes softly
that awful sound
of mine own lonely
rising from the ground
germinated like spring seeds
from her fertile soul
soon to bear the fruit
of the horrid animal
burrowing beneath the floorboards
and i am sleeping now
just a few more moments
tick tick tick
and in the amber glow
of a candle in my cabin
tonight it goes down slow
like it all was set up so smoothly
to strike when i got low
and i got low....
so
fuck it
bring on the wolves at the door

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

goddamn (i wish i was in frisco)

stars could fall down
right here
and burn the ground
around her and i
dancing
slowly fading
to the dark
tuesday night
after the
fires
and
the
end

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

whisper

she whispered it
"fuck you"
as she walked away
and i was longing for her
lips
but i guess...hmm
the open road

Monday, March 12, 2012

all is quiet on the last front

this is the best moment
this one here
and i wasted it writing
these words
i’ve stolen from
the air
and she would be standing here in the
rain
and proclaiming all her love
but I derailed from all
of that
fate tried calling
but i was drunken stoned
and i missed
out on the blue eyes
and i’ve missed out on the fame
and so here i am left standing
just a fool soaked through again
but there is chili on the stove top
and the boss is on the box
and scratch is sitting staring
out the window at the dock
and all is really quiet
and the amber light is still
i have carved this little hideout
so i guess my fate is due
but i won’t pay it on time
i’ve leaving in the morning air
fishing on the blackthorn
and i’ll be far away from here
so if she should come knocking
tell her try back in a year
i love this life i’m living
calm and quiet as hell
round here...

Sunday, March 11, 2012

quarantine/ incinerator


there is always the smart one
that says one of us could be infected
maybe we should stay here for a while
maybe just incinerate
burn ourselves down
for the fate of the human race
we'll lock ourselves up tight
so there's no getting out
cause this is the worst
feeling coming down
and then there are the crazy ones
or maybe just the sane
who just wanna run out and slide away
and back there where
all the other people laughing
and the quarantine line is
getting low
to this strange and red disease
it's got me feeling low
and then a little sweat drips from the brow
then things start changing
and my skin crawls slow
and i grab my last grenade
pull the pin and count to 3
cause this virus in here
has poisoned the best of me
nothing but this feeling
where i drown
cause love is the worst disease
and its going round.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

brief reprieve (i'm gonna quit this scene)

jazz after hours
bellowing low from my
parked car at the mcdonald's
drive through
a ritual of
vampires and
guitar players
on the way home
oh yeah
and the asshole kids
throwing their trash around
racing their sleek machines
across the yellow lines
of the parking lot
tonight
the server girl was nice
but i'm too old to fuck her
and besides
she knows my penchant
for the 2 fish fry
and she has a real nice body
tight to the waste and a clear face
she doesn't eat this shit at all....
saturday night and i am worn out
completely
this scene is
killing me
slowly
and with no mercy or reservation
of violent effort
i am a rag doll on the cosmos
"baby all I need is you"
and the walking baseline
ba doom doom doom doom
baby all i need is you
the sweet reprieve
and tonight she is asleep in
my covers
and i will be there when i can wind myself down
so for once
not another bar girl
on a couch
maybe ...
this town will go fuck itself for good
this time
and this last run
will turn it all around
"set your clock ahead,"
the radio man
demanded
and oh yeah
i lose another hour
better limp it home and hit the shower
and try to slip
in bed without her sensing
i want to relish in my weary
in the dark
i don't know,
maybe the bottle
and the back porch
tonight....

Friday, March 9, 2012

lion

human race;
shit show
animals don't sink
to the depths we do
drunk assholes
do their prostrated
mating dance
in this shitty bar
on drinks of mind altering
liquid
dumb enough at the start
now compounded
and stumbling back
to a bedroom somewhat close
or a parked car
and this is why we are losing
and the world will someday
shake us of its shell
dumb + dumb
and high hopes for the future
seriously?
dumber than i thought
and i watch the
short bus peacocks
and wish i had the ejector button
i'd rather be alone right now in silence
to contemplate why I wasn't
born a lion
just and sure
of my brethren
a king upon a kingdom
and no drunk assholes
and all the ladies
i could
handle...

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

whiskey (fuck yeah)

blind
thank god
all those bright
colors
were burning
my mind
and soul

Monday, March 5, 2012

(junk-pile / procrastination / the enticement of her skin - or, simply,) my sweetheart’s drunk again

the creaking fan sings it
bright out
loud
why haven’t you finished yet?
it’s a simple thing
to finish
what is already so near
completion
old brass blades are staring through
the bars
at me
and it’s true that there
is no excuse
friday night and already
my mind is buzzing
with the failure
of a another week down
the drain
gurgling it’s nasty
addiction
to living
every day
life
while the dreams stack up
in huge piles
in an ever
fading
light
like the dishes
by the sink
and the bottles by the door
you came here tonight
again half drunk
and tossed your shirt
onto the floor
and again it felt like
springtime
not this winter
anymore
until we were laying there
in the damp
moonlight
and i came down to this
encore
a fan quietly whirling
and the subtle living breeze
and your body rests beside me
and the brass blade
questioning
where were you as the night fell
and all those precious moments missed
why haven’t you finished
your masterpiece
and all the things upon your list?
i guess it falls
just number two
behind her sultry bliss
the polarizing
light hits hard
with every drunken kiss
and i only hope
the dreams i left
don’t grow
jealous
of her
skin
lying there
in the moonlight
while i
waste
this
time
again….