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 of the 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

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....

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 décor

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

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

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.....

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

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

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?

a brief but important warning

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

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

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….

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

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

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...

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

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

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....

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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....

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

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

whisper

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

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...

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.

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....

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...

whiskey (fuck yeah)

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

(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….