Hey Sarah, I think that's a nice name
I like your face and the words you say
Hey Sarah, any advice for a growing guy?
You're living your life and still asking, "Why?"
Que Sera, Sarah?
We were gonna connect
But you don't believe in the net
Que Sera, Sarah?
We were gonna connect
But I'm left looking at the back of your head
Oh Sarah, how'd you learn to fly?
You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye
But Sarah, will you still walk around the campus?
Making friends though you're new and have no one to trust?
Que Sera, Sarah?
We were gonna connect
But you don't believe in the net
Que Sera, Sarah?
We were gonna connect
But I'm left looking at the back of your head
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Slick
I open my hand til my skin becomes taut
Only to find that I'm red-handed, that I've been caught
Said she thought that I was a great catch
Meanwhile baiting her hook for a chance at discovery,
channeling her fears into a single factor,
creating a quantity of problems to be multiplied
I won't lie; I take it standing still with her voice in my face
Masking the glassing of the planet, she didn't plan anyway
Didn't bother to plan it.
Instead, she got a different plan in her head
Gonna run the place the way, gonna jog her mind
with a mile a minute coming out all of the time
I don't need this, it definitely isn't healthy
So I hit the town, total downtown knock out
Clock cleaned with the power of Pine-Sol
Saw the person I was looking for,
per chance her percent of effort was a hundred and four
To get right in front of me
Left to get a drink and get back to me
Where's the issue here, I've got plenty to see
She's pretty, oh so pretty, just like a magazine
I couldn't see her halo because she said she left it at home
Along with the rest of her games because she said she was laying it low
Said she was hit with bricks from her family affairs, no fair,
Not a single chance of fresh air, only a chance of rain
Scattered showers part of her daily routine
She's laying around sulking instead of staying clean
Her first night out spending something other than time
And killing it rather than her precious mind
Over dumb founded founding morals, and rules
Rulers that created them to be broken
Like off the back of your hand once the teacher's done croaking
Said she was tired of problems with math involved
Her father plus another equaled something not easily solved.
Until I heard the name, feeling sheepish and hollow
Sleepy, and almost fell down as I swallowed
the news like a bird with the word
Remembering something sickening about my girl
She felt so slick around the older crowd
The colder crowd
The men who had problems talking loud
And I made the connection, Verizon,
connected the dots, the numbers and the sun on the horizon
I was finally free to help this girl recover
Pull the blankets back up and out from under her
And my girl, now my ex, she wonders why I moved away
and am now hanging with the daughter of her beau today.
Only to find that I'm red-handed, that I've been caught
Said she thought that I was a great catch
Meanwhile baiting her hook for a chance at discovery,
channeling her fears into a single factor,
creating a quantity of problems to be multiplied
I won't lie; I take it standing still with her voice in my face
Masking the glassing of the planet, she didn't plan anyway
Didn't bother to plan it.
Instead, she got a different plan in her head
Gonna run the place the way, gonna jog her mind
with a mile a minute coming out all of the time
I don't need this, it definitely isn't healthy
So I hit the town, total downtown knock out
Clock cleaned with the power of Pine-Sol
Saw the person I was looking for,
per chance her percent of effort was a hundred and four
To get right in front of me
Left to get a drink and get back to me
Where's the issue here, I've got plenty to see
She's pretty, oh so pretty, just like a magazine
I couldn't see her halo because she said she left it at home
Along with the rest of her games because she said she was laying it low
Said she was hit with bricks from her family affairs, no fair,
Not a single chance of fresh air, only a chance of rain
Scattered showers part of her daily routine
She's laying around sulking instead of staying clean
Her first night out spending something other than time
And killing it rather than her precious mind
Over dumb founded founding morals, and rules
Rulers that created them to be broken
Like off the back of your hand once the teacher's done croaking
Said she was tired of problems with math involved
Her father plus another equaled something not easily solved.
Until I heard the name, feeling sheepish and hollow
Sleepy, and almost fell down as I swallowed
the news like a bird with the word
Remembering something sickening about my girl
She felt so slick around the older crowd
The colder crowd
The men who had problems talking loud
And I made the connection, Verizon,
connected the dots, the numbers and the sun on the horizon
I was finally free to help this girl recover
Pull the blankets back up and out from under her
And my girl, now my ex, she wonders why I moved away
and am now hanging with the daughter of her beau today.
Ceramic
Is she hot property?
Sorry, you can hardly look but don't touch
She's a celebrity waiting for you to go a bit rough
She's there waiting on you
Waiting on something
Something to come her way
Can't you hear those bones cracking?
Those necks turning?
Waiting on something
Something to come their way
It's the shades, isn't it?
It's the pace, isn't it?
What's flowing through the blinds?
What's their purpose? All they seem to be doing is blocking the light.
That precious light
Preventing another light
Lighting it up
Like she's hot property.
Not even legal and more hits than you know
Need a killer of your self-esteem?
Look no further.
You have your beast to tame.
How does she do it?
She acts like she acts and flows like she knows
how it all turns out in the end.
Sorry, you can hardly look but don't touch
She's a celebrity waiting for you to go a bit rough
She's there waiting on you
Waiting on something
Something to come her way
Can't you hear those bones cracking?
Those necks turning?
Waiting on something
Something to come their way
It's the shades, isn't it?
It's the pace, isn't it?
What's flowing through the blinds?
What's their purpose? All they seem to be doing is blocking the light.
That precious light
Preventing another light
Lighting it up
Like she's hot property.
Not even legal and more hits than you know
Need a killer of your self-esteem?
Look no further.
You have your beast to tame.
How does she do it?
She acts like she acts and flows like she knows
how it all turns out in the end.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Typical
It was the kind of coffee shop where they would play Shins music all day if they could away with it, and most of the time, they did. That was the last thought he had before pulling up his hood and stepping out into the uninviting breezes of the afternoon in Pittsburgh. Even the door resisted, as if to tell him, "You don't wanna go out there." What choice did he have? The tambourines kept ringing in his head and he had to pull away. Nothing mutes The Shins in a coffee shop. The brick work in the sidewalk was uneven from wear and the nature of bricks, he'd supposed. Puddles had grown in the wrong places, showing him sea level. He didn't know where he was going, but he needed a walk. He tried to zipper up his jacket for the hundredth time that day, only to expect a different result than the slipping of the teeth and a pointless contraption. He peeked in the coffee shop window before heading off, seeing that the cashier was changing shifts with a teenaged girl. They were a dichotomy of servers, she bright and happy to work in a place that she'd admired since she first stepped in and the twenty-something man leaning up against the back counter with tired eyes. It was the first that made him smile all day and he hid it to avoid embarrassment as he pushed off his hood to run his skinny fingers through his hair. The light drizzle mixed with whatever cream he put in his hair to make it seem as if he was putting forth some sort of effort to be in style. His shadow on the brick wall spoke otherwise. Spikes in random directions, a lanky figure trying to stand straight up. He didn't know if he was doing that to impress himself or others. Maybe standing tall would make him appear more confident, although this was clearly not the case. He wished he didn't know better so he could stop walking and just stare up into the sky, mouth open, waiting to drown until someone cared enough to bump him back into reality.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Fall Back
The S.S. Tropicana has met its untimely end
Unable to correctly steer the drowning friendship
The bonds have held together as well as the waves
Everyone is holding on, having seen those better days.
You owe me a solid, left me in a state that matters
Would you cut me some slack, and could I ever go back there?
I started for point B, which really only made sense
No point in point A, scoring less points in lessons
I could call my friends, but would it matter to them?
As I end every conversation with an ugly question
I hate to say that my staff won employee of the month
But I'm afraid that you'd get that and be tougher than I thought
Mark me down, correct, and double check the bubble
Hanging on the edge of the ledge of knowledge's rubble
What do I know, it's all dissolving together
Oh no, is it worth solving for worse or for better?
Catch me as I say sweet dreams and fall into your lap
Forgive me as I drool in sour nightmares and slowly fall back
Into what I used to be
Into what I used to be
Into what I used to believe was me
Unable to correctly steer the drowning friendship
The bonds have held together as well as the waves
Everyone is holding on, having seen those better days.
You owe me a solid, left me in a state that matters
Would you cut me some slack, and could I ever go back there?
I started for point B, which really only made sense
No point in point A, scoring less points in lessons
I could call my friends, but would it matter to them?
As I end every conversation with an ugly question
I hate to say that my staff won employee of the month
But I'm afraid that you'd get that and be tougher than I thought
Mark me down, correct, and double check the bubble
Hanging on the edge of the ledge of knowledge's rubble
What do I know, it's all dissolving together
Oh no, is it worth solving for worse or for better?
Catch me as I say sweet dreams and fall into your lap
Forgive me as I drool in sour nightmares and slowly fall back
Into what I used to be
Into what I used to be
Into what I used to believe was me
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Catch Me
It's been left here,
left to gather dust
We'll never be around
it's not a want, its become a must
I'm sorry that I hurt you today
By looking at you then looking away
But every time I try to blink
I fall down as my heart sinks
This carpet isn't as good looking as you.
I wonder what became,
became of those worn words
They seemed to disappear
Like the pages ripped and tore
I'm sorry that I hurt you today
By looking at you then looking away
But every time I try to blink
I fall down as my heart sinks
This carpet isn't as good looking as you.
Will we walk towards the sunset
Like we once both promised?
Or will it turn to ash in the end?
Will we put on sunglasses
And see who walk backwards fastest?
Or will we need another ampersand?
left to gather dust
We'll never be around
it's not a want, its become a must
I'm sorry that I hurt you today
By looking at you then looking away
But every time I try to blink
I fall down as my heart sinks
This carpet isn't as good looking as you.
I wonder what became,
became of those worn words
They seemed to disappear
Like the pages ripped and tore
I'm sorry that I hurt you today
By looking at you then looking away
But every time I try to blink
I fall down as my heart sinks
This carpet isn't as good looking as you.
Will we walk towards the sunset
Like we once both promised?
Or will it turn to ash in the end?
Will we put on sunglasses
And see who walk backwards fastest?
Or will we need another ampersand?
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Rain Drops
A phone call.
The ring echoing down the dimly lit hall of another household in a family oriented neighborhood. The late afternoon sun filtered by the stained glass reached for the handset. The yellow school bus stopped at the same curb at its routine time. It dropped off its routine children. All the homes shared the mindset and a floor plan. Go to school, get an education, succeed. Push your children to do the same. Every few years, the houses went through a generational cleansing. The elderly moving into care and their children repainting the outsides.
Another ring.
She'd timed it out perfectly. Her afternoon shower fogged up the mirror and the room was a sauna by the time she'd undressed and opened the door. The heat hit her and gathered all along her body. Before she'd had a chance to soak her hair, an unneeded interruption. Wasn't it enough that her conservative neighbors lifted their noses at her being a single mother? She couldn't catch a break from those loquacious bastards. Was it her fault that her husband managed to work his way around the community helping out the other wives with leaky faucets and broken dryers? Now she managed to laugh at the fact that most of them hung their laundry out to dry in their always freshly cut backyards. She used to blame herself, her imperfections. Now she knew better and she knew that every time she looked at her little girl.
Another ring.
She frowned as she hit the tap and grabbed her robe. She stepped downstairs and managed to grab the phone mid-ring.
"Hello?"
Her toes gripped the new carpet. The imprint of her left foot became wet around edges from the only limb she managed to get under the warm water of her shower.
"Ms. Henderson?"
The voice seemed a little too heavy-hearted for this time of day. Somehow people around here managed to stay peppy through the day. She knew better than to watch TV past 10 PM, though.
"Yes?" she answered in a false disposition.
The sound of breathing was heard slightly in the background.
"Yes?" she repeated. The other end hung up before she managed to get out her one syllable response.
"Loon." She put the phone back down into its perfect position. The sun went behind clouds and instantly darkened the naturally-lit hallway. She turned to walk upstairs when the phone rang again.
She sighed.
Ring.
She waited for the ring to finish as if to punish the person on the other side before picking up and answering in a slightly annoyed tone.
"Yes?"
She heard a man swallow and couldn't help but smile slightly at his nervous attempt at conversation. Finally someone that felt worse than her.
"There's a problem concerning your daughter, Ms. Henderson."
Her sheepish grin went away as all the worse scenarios flew through her head. Each one become worse before she called herself to order, scoffing that anything bad could happen in this neighborhood.
"We have records stating that you make approximately thirty-four thousand a year."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"We also know that you choose to deposit 15% of your bimonthly check in a savings account."
"Who is this?"
The carpet was soaked almost all the way through and when she lifted her foot, she could feel the sponge effect of the carpet taking it all in.
It was only a few moments before she quickly put his questions together. She leaned and then fell against the wall and slid down to the floor, pulling the phone with her.
"Ms. Henderson, we expect your savings account to be empty by the end of the day, placed in a bright blue school backpack and left outside the school inside of the drained fountain before 6 A.M. tomorrow."
Blood drained from her head, leaving her forehead a cold, sweaty mess.
"I...I.."
"Don't worry, Ms. Henderson. We're confident you'll be able to comply with our given guidelines. Also, should you decide to go the 'authorities', be prepared for traumatizing news."
Tears fell slowly as they stuck to the curvature of her thin face.
"I'll understand your silence as a realization of how serious this situation. Remember, Ms. Henderson, 6 A.M. tomorrow inside of the drained fountain. What color?"
She continued to stare straight ahead at the white wall, making shapes with her mind, unable to comprehend what has just happened. This didn't happen to people like her, she kept thinking. How could the man with the nervous voice do something like this to her? Her daughter was her only hope in the world. Ever since her husband, the neighbors, her daughter was the only one that stood by her side. She didn't know how much that meant to her.
"Ms. Henderson?" The voice cracked mockingly.
And now what? This son of a bitch talking through a phone line. Another tear rolled out.
"Bright blue," she croaked sadly, breaking the silence.
"Thank you for your cooperation. Remember, no cops." He hung up like an employee from customer service: speaking softly, relieved that he didn't have to deal with an angry complaint.
The phone fell to her side. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds again, illuminating the hallway where she sat against the wall, eyes open. She looked out the window of the door to see a piece of bright sky blue glass. Bright blue. Her favorite color.
The ring echoing down the dimly lit hall of another household in a family oriented neighborhood. The late afternoon sun filtered by the stained glass reached for the handset. The yellow school bus stopped at the same curb at its routine time. It dropped off its routine children. All the homes shared the mindset and a floor plan. Go to school, get an education, succeed. Push your children to do the same. Every few years, the houses went through a generational cleansing. The elderly moving into care and their children repainting the outsides.
Another ring.
She'd timed it out perfectly. Her afternoon shower fogged up the mirror and the room was a sauna by the time she'd undressed and opened the door. The heat hit her and gathered all along her body. Before she'd had a chance to soak her hair, an unneeded interruption. Wasn't it enough that her conservative neighbors lifted their noses at her being a single mother? She couldn't catch a break from those loquacious bastards. Was it her fault that her husband managed to work his way around the community helping out the other wives with leaky faucets and broken dryers? Now she managed to laugh at the fact that most of them hung their laundry out to dry in their always freshly cut backyards. She used to blame herself, her imperfections. Now she knew better and she knew that every time she looked at her little girl.
Another ring.
She frowned as she hit the tap and grabbed her robe. She stepped downstairs and managed to grab the phone mid-ring.
"Hello?"
Her toes gripped the new carpet. The imprint of her left foot became wet around edges from the only limb she managed to get under the warm water of her shower.
"Ms. Henderson?"
The voice seemed a little too heavy-hearted for this time of day. Somehow people around here managed to stay peppy through the day. She knew better than to watch TV past 10 PM, though.
"Yes?" she answered in a false disposition.
The sound of breathing was heard slightly in the background.
"Yes?" she repeated. The other end hung up before she managed to get out her one syllable response.
"Loon." She put the phone back down into its perfect position. The sun went behind clouds and instantly darkened the naturally-lit hallway. She turned to walk upstairs when the phone rang again.
She sighed.
Ring.
She waited for the ring to finish as if to punish the person on the other side before picking up and answering in a slightly annoyed tone.
"Yes?"
She heard a man swallow and couldn't help but smile slightly at his nervous attempt at conversation. Finally someone that felt worse than her.
"There's a problem concerning your daughter, Ms. Henderson."
Her sheepish grin went away as all the worse scenarios flew through her head. Each one become worse before she called herself to order, scoffing that anything bad could happen in this neighborhood.
"We have records stating that you make approximately thirty-four thousand a year."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"We also know that you choose to deposit 15% of your bimonthly check in a savings account."
"Who is this?"
The carpet was soaked almost all the way through and when she lifted her foot, she could feel the sponge effect of the carpet taking it all in.
It was only a few moments before she quickly put his questions together. She leaned and then fell against the wall and slid down to the floor, pulling the phone with her.
"Ms. Henderson, we expect your savings account to be empty by the end of the day, placed in a bright blue school backpack and left outside the school inside of the drained fountain before 6 A.M. tomorrow."
Blood drained from her head, leaving her forehead a cold, sweaty mess.
"I...I.."
"Don't worry, Ms. Henderson. We're confident you'll be able to comply with our given guidelines. Also, should you decide to go the 'authorities', be prepared for traumatizing news."
Tears fell slowly as they stuck to the curvature of her thin face.
"I'll understand your silence as a realization of how serious this situation. Remember, Ms. Henderson, 6 A.M. tomorrow inside of the drained fountain. What color?"
She continued to stare straight ahead at the white wall, making shapes with her mind, unable to comprehend what has just happened. This didn't happen to people like her, she kept thinking. How could the man with the nervous voice do something like this to her? Her daughter was her only hope in the world. Ever since her husband, the neighbors, her daughter was the only one that stood by her side. She didn't know how much that meant to her.
"Ms. Henderson?" The voice cracked mockingly.
And now what? This son of a bitch talking through a phone line. Another tear rolled out.
"Bright blue," she croaked sadly, breaking the silence.
"Thank you for your cooperation. Remember, no cops." He hung up like an employee from customer service: speaking softly, relieved that he didn't have to deal with an angry complaint.
The phone fell to her side. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds again, illuminating the hallway where she sat against the wall, eyes open. She looked out the window of the door to see a piece of bright sky blue glass. Bright blue. Her favorite color.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Too Far Gone
The first time I saw you, you were with him
He was riding with you home, so innocent
I was astounded by my friend, How lucky was he?
The doors opened, now what do you need?
Hey girl,
Do you need a little direction?
Hey girl,
Do you need to be led astray?
Spanish and boys confuse her
All I know is I never want to lose her
Where's my valentine?
Is she the same one I had in mind?
Does she need a little guidance?
Is she tucked away in distress?
Who am I, but just a guy
To waste the minutes away with?
The next time I saw you, we were again riding home
Chatting on the bus, you still mildly unknown
While the rest were talking, you kissed his cheek
Looking somewhat out of place, simply listening.
Hey girl,
Do you need a little direction?
Hey girl,
Do you need to be led astray?
Why does everything she says to me
Translate to "in your dreams"?
Where's my valentine?
Is she the same one I had in mind?
Does she need a little guidance?
Is she tucked away in distress?
Would you ever melt in my hands like my heart does in yours?
Am I that friend that you never realized you had?
I'll go back to when it rained, in order to clear this debt of pain
To kill the drought of what should've been...
Where's my valentine?
Is she the same one I had in mind?
Does she need a little guidance?
Is she tucked away in distress?
Does she even believe?
He was riding with you home, so innocent
I was astounded by my friend, How lucky was he?
The doors opened, now what do you need?
Hey girl,
Do you need a little direction?
Hey girl,
Do you need to be led astray?
Spanish and boys confuse her
All I know is I never want to lose her
Where's my valentine?
Is she the same one I had in mind?
Does she need a little guidance?
Is she tucked away in distress?
Who am I, but just a guy
To waste the minutes away with?
The next time I saw you, we were again riding home
Chatting on the bus, you still mildly unknown
While the rest were talking, you kissed his cheek
Looking somewhat out of place, simply listening.
Hey girl,
Do you need a little direction?
Hey girl,
Do you need to be led astray?
Why does everything she says to me
Translate to "in your dreams"?
Where's my valentine?
Is she the same one I had in mind?
Does she need a little guidance?
Is she tucked away in distress?
Would you ever melt in my hands like my heart does in yours?
Am I that friend that you never realized you had?
I'll go back to when it rained, in order to clear this debt of pain
To kill the drought of what should've been...
Where's my valentine?
Is she the same one I had in mind?
Does she need a little guidance?
Is she tucked away in distress?
Does she even believe?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Undulate
Back and forth.
And back and forth again.
I kept falling in between this dream of a better place. Not perfection, per say, but somewhere where the dirt under my fingernails didn't become an unwanted daily routine. Oh ho, this place wouldn't have to be perfect, but it would also be all relative. A place where the chorus of angels would be heard outside my window everyday as the sun gently touched my face and left soft shadows on yours. Where every shade was a highlight and every smile was another day gone. I would keep trying to open my eyes to convince myself that this was real and you would keep laughing at my attempt. Your face would scrunch and I would drown in the sheets.
Back and forth.
But instead of cotton, I wake up to concrete and mud dried on my face. My ridiculous attempt at survival is a tidbit of comedy to the public. The vehement expression on my face wiped all smiles and crashed all shadows. Any window would be lucky to be whole when the sun poisoned its delicate construction and whatever hid behind it. I couldn't breathe but it was like my prayers were answered. In those few lifeless moments, I was back where I though I belonged. I was someplace just outside of home. The mud left a crust on my cheeks, but I was in no rush to brush it off. Let them think what they think. Let them see this dirt on my face and run to conclusions while their feet carry them faster than they know. They're there before they left, and their left is left for dead. They drag themselves along for the right of way only to die in a frenetic mess on the trashed concrete.
I stood up.
I looked towards the door, hoping to make a break for it. I shouldn't have stood up so fast. My blood liked where it was, resting and catching its breath. I stood there with my legs slightly apart, head in a daze, not sure which way to run. Not enough strength to jump to conclusions here. I didn't know where everyone was located or whether or not they were already on me. My jacket hung on me in drapes as I stumbled forward.
Mistake.
I continued to stumble and ended up exactly where I started. The laughter started to chime in again, and I fell back into that dream land with mud baked to my face. I closed my eyes in the most natural way possible, as if this is what they were made for all along. A window shade on this horrible world. Sudden shocks would jolt them open and make me remember. Open, then closed. Open again. Back and forth.
Back and forth.
And back and forth again.
I kept falling in between this dream of a better place. Not perfection, per say, but somewhere where the dirt under my fingernails didn't become an unwanted daily routine. Oh ho, this place wouldn't have to be perfect, but it would also be all relative. A place where the chorus of angels would be heard outside my window everyday as the sun gently touched my face and left soft shadows on yours. Where every shade was a highlight and every smile was another day gone. I would keep trying to open my eyes to convince myself that this was real and you would keep laughing at my attempt. Your face would scrunch and I would drown in the sheets.
Back and forth.
But instead of cotton, I wake up to concrete and mud dried on my face. My ridiculous attempt at survival is a tidbit of comedy to the public. The vehement expression on my face wiped all smiles and crashed all shadows. Any window would be lucky to be whole when the sun poisoned its delicate construction and whatever hid behind it. I couldn't breathe but it was like my prayers were answered. In those few lifeless moments, I was back where I though I belonged. I was someplace just outside of home. The mud left a crust on my cheeks, but I was in no rush to brush it off. Let them think what they think. Let them see this dirt on my face and run to conclusions while their feet carry them faster than they know. They're there before they left, and their left is left for dead. They drag themselves along for the right of way only to die in a frenetic mess on the trashed concrete.
I stood up.
I looked towards the door, hoping to make a break for it. I shouldn't have stood up so fast. My blood liked where it was, resting and catching its breath. I stood there with my legs slightly apart, head in a daze, not sure which way to run. Not enough strength to jump to conclusions here. I didn't know where everyone was located or whether or not they were already on me. My jacket hung on me in drapes as I stumbled forward.
Mistake.
I continued to stumble and ended up exactly where I started. The laughter started to chime in again, and I fell back into that dream land with mud baked to my face. I closed my eyes in the most natural way possible, as if this is what they were made for all along. A window shade on this horrible world. Sudden shocks would jolt them open and make me remember. Open, then closed. Open again. Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Desmond
I believe in the Lord and I believe in Christ,
But I don't believe in the sacrifice
I play all day and I pray all night,
for that one right one track mind.
I hold onto myself and I hold on to the world
I hold on until the truth unfolds.
I cry my eyes and I satisfy,
for that one right one track mind.
I grasp my reality and my demise,
but I lose the grip that's on my vice
I dream all day of the cold, dark night,
for that one right one track mind.
I drown under this, the bloody fingerprints,
but I keep afloat on empty presence
I scream all day into the shallow night,
for that one right one track mind.
I lack my inspiration.
Taken by desperation.
I've lost motivation
Therefore communication.
I've got one right shot left
at whatever one track mind is left
But I don't believe in the sacrifice
I play all day and I pray all night,
for that one right one track mind.
I hold onto myself and I hold on to the world
I hold on until the truth unfolds.
I cry my eyes and I satisfy,
for that one right one track mind.
I grasp my reality and my demise,
but I lose the grip that's on my vice
I dream all day of the cold, dark night,
for that one right one track mind.
I drown under this, the bloody fingerprints,
but I keep afloat on empty presence
I scream all day into the shallow night,
for that one right one track mind.
I lack my inspiration.
Taken by desperation.
I've lost motivation
Therefore communication.
I've got one right shot left
at whatever one track mind is left
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Therapeutic Murmurs
Your right breast is forever
carved into my chest
As my heart beats faster
The thumps continuous
Is it scarier to feel it
pounding in your deafened ears or
For it to gently tap
against the lining of your rib cage?
I feel as though I've lost it, lost cause
Slipped through like I subconsciously wanted
One and, Two and, Three and, Four and.
Where's my sympathy?
Down with the fever free
Where's my victory?
Down with the damp beats
carved into my chest
As my heart beats faster
The thumps continuous
Is it scarier to feel it
pounding in your deafened ears or
For it to gently tap
against the lining of your rib cage?
I feel as though I've lost it, lost cause
Slipped through like I subconsciously wanted
One and, Two and, Three and, Four and.
Where's my sympathy?
Down with the fever free
Where's my victory?
Down with the damp beats
Friday, August 27, 2010
Farewell
Sunglasses and leather jackets
Running what I used to call my streets
The best scene, you and me
Where did all the time go?
Who am I, but just a guy
To waste the minutes away with?
Am I the same one I had in mind?
The same one locked in distress?
I'd hoped to find relief in the scarred wooden floors,
Discussing where we were heading tomorrow and how far.
Artificially pumping up our life span with our static
Creating our night sky pollution like a futuristic attic.
I'd say goodbye but
you'd just want me home anyway
Running what I used to call my streets
The best scene, you and me
Where did all the time go?
Who am I, but just a guy
To waste the minutes away with?
Am I the same one I had in mind?
The same one locked in distress?
I'd hoped to find relief in the scarred wooden floors,
Discussing where we were heading tomorrow and how far.
Artificially pumping up our life span with our static
Creating our night sky pollution like a futuristic attic.
I'd say goodbye but
you'd just want me home anyway
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Loose Strings
"Quick now, Timmy, we have to get to the store before they run out of everything."
Her hands gripped tighter on his mittens.
"What are we getting, Mommy?" he asked.
"We're just getting presents for Christmas."
His eyes were watering from the harsh winds.
The big poofy coat and scarf he had on wouldn't let him walk straight.
He had to waddle and it made it hard to keep up.
"Do you want me to carry you, Timmy?"
"No Mommy, I can do it all by myself!"
The snow picked up and pushed the two back every time they chose to step forward.
"Mommy, can we go home? It's too cold! Brrr!"
"We can't go home until we get presents. I don't want to disappoint anyone."
Suddenly, the sound of an ocean came from around the building. He was confused because he knew there were no oceans in the middle of a city. Then a parade of people with determined faces almost ran the parent and child over.
"What's the meaning of this? Why is everyone running this way?" His mommy shouted.
"There's a sale at the other end of town! Fifty percent of anything when you buy three of something!" a shopper told her.
"You don't have to push me and my poor child around for a stupid sale. Come on Timmy, let's get out of here before more unpolite citizens come this way."
That's what he thought she said, but he couldn't be sure because the parade of people had taken him away. He was lost in their legs and many bags of shoes and other stuff. He finally managed to get out, but didn't know where he was. He was in the middle of an alleyway between a red building and an orange building, which would seem cheery until the initial shock wore off. It smelled like wet newspapers, fresh from the crowd. Even though he was scared to be away from his mommy, he decided to walk down the alleyway.
"Mommy! Mommy!" he yelled.
"Jane! Jane!" He yelled out her first name because he figured out that a lot of people have mommies and she might be confused.
The floor of the alley was littered with murky puddles even though it hadn't rained in forever. It was snowing though. At least the red and orange buildings would keep the wind down.
All of a sudden, an old man in a suit jacket and lab coat ran by the boy, just like the crowd.
"Quick son! Take this and hide!"
"What do I do wi-"
"Just read the front!"
He was gone just as fast as he had came. He handed the boy a wrapped package covered in faded yellow paper and a string holding everything in place.
More footsteps came splashing in the slush on the sidewalk so the boy hid behind the dumpster. Three men in black suits and sunglasses ran by, but they were gone too.
Timmy looked down at the box and flipped it around to look at the front:
"Do not open until 2010".
He'll find out in seven years.
---
12/7/08 5:13 PM
Her hands gripped tighter on his mittens.
"What are we getting, Mommy?" he asked.
"We're just getting presents for Christmas."
His eyes were watering from the harsh winds.
The big poofy coat and scarf he had on wouldn't let him walk straight.
He had to waddle and it made it hard to keep up.
"Do you want me to carry you, Timmy?"
"No Mommy, I can do it all by myself!"
The snow picked up and pushed the two back every time they chose to step forward.
"Mommy, can we go home? It's too cold! Brrr!"
"We can't go home until we get presents. I don't want to disappoint anyone."
Suddenly, the sound of an ocean came from around the building. He was confused because he knew there were no oceans in the middle of a city. Then a parade of people with determined faces almost ran the parent and child over.
"What's the meaning of this? Why is everyone running this way?" His mommy shouted.
"There's a sale at the other end of town! Fifty percent of anything when you buy three of something!" a shopper told her.
"You don't have to push me and my poor child around for a stupid sale. Come on Timmy, let's get out of here before more unpolite citizens come this way."
That's what he thought she said, but he couldn't be sure because the parade of people had taken him away. He was lost in their legs and many bags of shoes and other stuff. He finally managed to get out, but didn't know where he was. He was in the middle of an alleyway between a red building and an orange building, which would seem cheery until the initial shock wore off. It smelled like wet newspapers, fresh from the crowd. Even though he was scared to be away from his mommy, he decided to walk down the alleyway.
"Mommy! Mommy!" he yelled.
"Jane! Jane!" He yelled out her first name because he figured out that a lot of people have mommies and she might be confused.
The floor of the alley was littered with murky puddles even though it hadn't rained in forever. It was snowing though. At least the red and orange buildings would keep the wind down.
All of a sudden, an old man in a suit jacket and lab coat ran by the boy, just like the crowd.
"Quick son! Take this and hide!"
"What do I do wi-"
"Just read the front!"
He was gone just as fast as he had came. He handed the boy a wrapped package covered in faded yellow paper and a string holding everything in place.
More footsteps came splashing in the slush on the sidewalk so the boy hid behind the dumpster. Three men in black suits and sunglasses ran by, but they were gone too.
Timmy looked down at the box and flipped it around to look at the front:
"Do not open until 2010".
He'll find out in seven years.
---
12/7/08 5:13 PM
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Reflection
I've got a monster in my closet
and it's attacking my skeletons
It's tearing up my unfinished business
and ripping up my socks and untold wishes
It's keeping me awake at night
Creaking the door open so slightly
Watching my chest move up and down
and tiptoeing so very lightly
I'm afraid for my wardrobe
And my perfect disguise
I don't want anyone to know
That I'd be naked otherwise
Here he comes,
scratching up the hardwood
I can see the fear in his eyes
Snarling and drooling perfect lies
Before I knew it, I threw a fist
In the fury of a masochist
Leaving glass pieces on the ground
Now that mirror is gone
And that monster won't be around
and it's attacking my skeletons
It's tearing up my unfinished business
and ripping up my socks and untold wishes
It's keeping me awake at night
Creaking the door open so slightly
Watching my chest move up and down
and tiptoeing so very lightly
I'm afraid for my wardrobe
And my perfect disguise
I don't want anyone to know
That I'd be naked otherwise
Here he comes,
scratching up the hardwood
I can see the fear in his eyes
Snarling and drooling perfect lies
Before I knew it, I threw a fist
In the fury of a masochist
Leaving glass pieces on the ground
Now that mirror is gone
And that monster won't be around
Monday, July 12, 2010
Sweet Dreams
It's safe to say
it's all the same
and there's no change
for a while
It's been you and me
and apathy
daring to turn the dial
Am I the victim of a limit?
Or a heatsink of self hatred?
Must I always see your face
When I lay down in my warm bed?
I'm still a little high on
what I had to say
11 AM fumes
are headed my way
This is where I fall apart
Inches before the finish line
Can't pick myself up again
and it's alright
Now see me drift to sleep
of hazy dreams
lined up in single file
Jump start my heart
it's hard
It's more junk on the pile.
Am I the victim of a limit?
Or a heatsink of self hatred?
Must I always see your face
When I lay down in my warm bed?
it's all the same
and there's no change
for a while
It's been you and me
and apathy
daring to turn the dial
Am I the victim of a limit?
Or a heatsink of self hatred?
Must I always see your face
When I lay down in my warm bed?
I'm still a little high on
what I had to say
11 AM fumes
are headed my way
This is where I fall apart
Inches before the finish line
Can't pick myself up again
and it's alright
Now see me drift to sleep
of hazy dreams
lined up in single file
Jump start my heart
it's hard
It's more junk on the pile.
Am I the victim of a limit?
Or a heatsink of self hatred?
Must I always see your face
When I lay down in my warm bed?
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Jester
Oh ahoy there, can you entertain me?
I've noticed that you're all alone and so am I.
Will you ring your bell and crash your cymbal
if I promise to provide them?
Where's your tone and where're your friends?
Where're your lone and load bearing friends?
Oh ahoy there, can you entertain me?
I know that you're all alone because you said good bye.
Did you know that I used to respect you?
But you failed to provide it to me.
Where's your tone and where're your friends?
Where're your lone and load bearing friends?
Oh ahoy there, can you entertain me?
I've noticed that you're all alone and so am I.
I've noticed that you're all alone and so am I.
Will you ring your bell and crash your cymbal
if I promise to provide them?
Where's your tone and where're your friends?
Where're your lone and load bearing friends?
Oh ahoy there, can you entertain me?
I know that you're all alone because you said good bye.
Did you know that I used to respect you?
But you failed to provide it to me.
Where's your tone and where're your friends?
Where're your lone and load bearing friends?
Oh ahoy there, can you entertain me?
I've noticed that you're all alone and so am I.
Running
I always wondered what baseball was and how it was played. One of the older guys back at the House had a box of cards his great grandfather had. People named Jeter and all sorts of things. He showed me them one time. There was a crazy number of stats and abbreviated terms on the back and on the front everyone looked like greats. He explained it to me once: something like hitting a ball with a stick and running around in a circle. Apparently it was a pastime and people loved it. Great exercise too.
I sure could have used some of that. What was I thinking, running away like that? The House was probably a mile or two back and I had no way of telling when the sun would be back up. At any moment it could rise and shine its rays through this not very dense forest and burn me alive. It was a chance I was willing to take though. They'd taken Casey and though I don't know whether she wanted to go or not, I was going to find her.
I found myself tripping every time my mind wandered off about her. You think I would've learned after the fourth or fifth time. Boy, was I a naive juvenile. No wonder they beat me and left me to die back there. I guess they figured I just would have held them back and slowed them down.
It was still the dead of night, but I didn't know if they were going to make it. That mystical miracle city seemed too good to be true. I didn't even understand why they wanted to go there. I mean, the House was just fine. Sure there was no where to go and it was boring as hell, but it was a life that could be lived. There was no need for this adventure shit. Why go off to find a place where there were other people? I was so confused.
Maybe my reasoning was clouded by hormonal thoughts. Maybe I was just selfish about Casey.
Maybe I didn't want to share, though it's not like I had anything to share.
I sure could have used some of that. What was I thinking, running away like that? The House was probably a mile or two back and I had no way of telling when the sun would be back up. At any moment it could rise and shine its rays through this not very dense forest and burn me alive. It was a chance I was willing to take though. They'd taken Casey and though I don't know whether she wanted to go or not, I was going to find her.
I found myself tripping every time my mind wandered off about her. You think I would've learned after the fourth or fifth time. Boy, was I a naive juvenile. No wonder they beat me and left me to die back there. I guess they figured I just would have held them back and slowed them down.
It was still the dead of night, but I didn't know if they were going to make it. That mystical miracle city seemed too good to be true. I didn't even understand why they wanted to go there. I mean, the House was just fine. Sure there was no where to go and it was boring as hell, but it was a life that could be lived. There was no need for this adventure shit. Why go off to find a place where there were other people? I was so confused.
Maybe my reasoning was clouded by hormonal thoughts. Maybe I was just selfish about Casey.
Maybe I didn't want to share, though it's not like I had anything to share.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Guns, Germs, and Steel
Is this where I finally ended up?
The summation of the human race had me trapped in a place where the IQ was measured by the money in your wallet, and by the looks of it, it was in short supply. The thugs continued to drag their knuckles as I tried to flow into the traffic as much as possible. I pulled my hood up over my head in an effort to stay warm and to stay cool. I felt that blending in was mandatory. Despite the psycho killer wild west of a world out there, there wasn't much to go on here.
I was hoping that Casey would be reminded of me at some point in her trek. I was hoping that they were safe. I was hoping she was still as free as she was when they abandoned me.
I knew they were travelling in a pack. Dogs in the front and back. They carried UV lights and a necklace of onions for the superstitious. I didn't know what books or witness accounts they were reading, but onions were only going to make you more appealing. It was the stupidity of those people that made me worry about Casey.
Tears started in my eyes as the cement dust hit my face. I pulled my hood up farther in an attempt to keep anyone from seeing. The last thing I needed was some short-skirted chick following around and laughing at my misfortune. The goal was less attention.
More offers for my body. I heard the whispers as I walked past each worn out, unused terminal: "Fresh meat", "What's up with the marsupial?", "Someone needs their hands held..." This was followed by hollow laughter and my harsh stares in reply. I was at a tipping point and they had no way of knowing the repercussions of my actions.
The summation of the human race had me trapped in a place where the IQ was measured by the money in your wallet, and by the looks of it, it was in short supply. The thugs continued to drag their knuckles as I tried to flow into the traffic as much as possible. I pulled my hood up over my head in an effort to stay warm and to stay cool. I felt that blending in was mandatory. Despite the psycho killer wild west of a world out there, there wasn't much to go on here.
I was hoping that Casey would be reminded of me at some point in her trek. I was hoping that they were safe. I was hoping she was still as free as she was when they abandoned me.
I knew they were travelling in a pack. Dogs in the front and back. They carried UV lights and a necklace of onions for the superstitious. I didn't know what books or witness accounts they were reading, but onions were only going to make you more appealing. It was the stupidity of those people that made me worry about Casey.
Tears started in my eyes as the cement dust hit my face. I pulled my hood up farther in an attempt to keep anyone from seeing. The last thing I needed was some short-skirted chick following around and laughing at my misfortune. The goal was less attention.
More offers for my body. I heard the whispers as I walked past each worn out, unused terminal: "Fresh meat", "What's up with the marsupial?", "Someone needs their hands held..." This was followed by hollow laughter and my harsh stares in reply. I was at a tipping point and they had no way of knowing the repercussions of my actions.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Last Stop
I pushed the front door of the office building open and walked out into the feeling of cold knives scratching my face. I adjusted my scarf for better protection against the snow and made my way to the cross walk. Waiting for the traffic to clear seemed to take forever. Though the streets were clearly paved, the novices seemed to slow down. The brake lights were always on. I took a chance and jogged across the street, making it across with no trouble. Walking to the bus stop, I took a second to run through my daily tasks for tomorrow. Back when I used to teach high school students, I tried to drill this procedure into their heads. Just organizing your thoughts can get you a long way. I didn't always take this to heart, however. My thoughts were as chaotic as you could get. Notes lined my desk and my home was filled with half finished trinkets I suppose you could call inventions. It was a hobby mostly.
The bus finally came. The way it pulled around the corner made it seem like the ambulance coming to rescue me from this abyss. The metal monster roared as it pulled to a stop before hissing and opening its doors. I stepped inside and paid the driver, who seemed a bit too interested in me.
He stared at me rather intently as I sat down; even as I sat down behind, his eyes followed me through the rear view mirror. Should I have feared for my life? Should I just get off at the next stop and catch the next one? I admit though that his eyes had a certain familiar appeal.
"You wouldn't happen to know a Mr. Jensen, would you?"
The bus driver's voice startled me. The grinding and thrashing of the windshield wipers and the tires against the ground suggested no human communication was necessary. I did however know a Mr. Jensen.
"My name happens to be Mr. Jensen."
By now, I was more than a little nervous when he knew my name. We were the only two on the bus, and I knew how most horror stories start out and then end.
"Did you ever teach at Northbrook? I used to be a student there and you looked mighty familiar."
That's what struck right with me. I knew those eyes were reliable. Jonathan Lewis. He was such a bright kid, with a bright future. Yet, here he was as a driver for the public. I thought he would go on to do great things, not spend a shift sitting and timing the green lights.
"Yes yes. Jonathan Lewis?"
"Mhm! My God, it's been a while!"
It's not everyday you get to catch up with an old friend, especially one that you try to pass all the good onto without the personal issues getting in the way. I learned that once he got out of Northbrook, he set out to do what he wanted: working on rockets for the best and brightest. He went to one of the best engineering schools in the country, graduated top of his class, went to work for one of, if not, the most prestigious companies in the country designing airplanes and the like. After working with that group for about five years, he fell off the map. He raised a family. He became interested in music and was involved in a jam band of sorts. This kid had worked with the best and brightest, but he said that all he wanted to do was talk to the people. Politics was not the road for him, so he tried out public service. He told me the glove fit perfectly, and he wasn't talking about the ones for the snow.
The bus finally came. The way it pulled around the corner made it seem like the ambulance coming to rescue me from this abyss. The metal monster roared as it pulled to a stop before hissing and opening its doors. I stepped inside and paid the driver, who seemed a bit too interested in me.
He stared at me rather intently as I sat down; even as I sat down behind, his eyes followed me through the rear view mirror. Should I have feared for my life? Should I just get off at the next stop and catch the next one? I admit though that his eyes had a certain familiar appeal.
"You wouldn't happen to know a Mr. Jensen, would you?"
The bus driver's voice startled me. The grinding and thrashing of the windshield wipers and the tires against the ground suggested no human communication was necessary. I did however know a Mr. Jensen.
"My name happens to be Mr. Jensen."
By now, I was more than a little nervous when he knew my name. We were the only two on the bus, and I knew how most horror stories start out and then end.
"Did you ever teach at Northbrook? I used to be a student there and you looked mighty familiar."
That's what struck right with me. I knew those eyes were reliable. Jonathan Lewis. He was such a bright kid, with a bright future. Yet, here he was as a driver for the public. I thought he would go on to do great things, not spend a shift sitting and timing the green lights.
"Yes yes. Jonathan Lewis?"
"Mhm! My God, it's been a while!"
It's not everyday you get to catch up with an old friend, especially one that you try to pass all the good onto without the personal issues getting in the way. I learned that once he got out of Northbrook, he set out to do what he wanted: working on rockets for the best and brightest. He went to one of the best engineering schools in the country, graduated top of his class, went to work for one of, if not, the most prestigious companies in the country designing airplanes and the like. After working with that group for about five years, he fell off the map. He raised a family. He became interested in music and was involved in a jam band of sorts. This kid had worked with the best and brightest, but he said that all he wanted to do was talk to the people. Politics was not the road for him, so he tried out public service. He told me the glove fit perfectly, and he wasn't talking about the ones for the snow.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Howdy
I wish you were here to say hello.
We could go for a walk or a stroll.
Take a hike around the block
Try to chew our gum and at the same time talk
All while making sure we're not late.
I wish you were here to say good luck
I could run up my words and not get stuck
Travel the world and yet stay home
I could talk to you when I'm all alone
Staying up until 11:11, just to wait.
So come back, don't slack
There's so much I want to know
Like what's your favorite color
and what's your favorite show?
We could have so much fun together
Hanging out, making jokes so clever
Now I wish I could just say hello to you.
We could go for a walk or a stroll.
Take a hike around the block
Try to chew our gum and at the same time talk
All while making sure we're not late.
I wish you were here to say good luck
I could run up my words and not get stuck
Travel the world and yet stay home
I could talk to you when I'm all alone
Staying up until 11:11, just to wait.
So come back, don't slack
There's so much I want to know
Like what's your favorite color
and what's your favorite show?
We could have so much fun together
Hanging out, making jokes so clever
Now I wish I could just say hello to you.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Number 9
On a scale of one to ten, I'd rate you a nine
You've got an attitude problem, but you look so fine
I'll just observe from the back, I've got the time
To take a shot at that, I'd have to get back in line
You're just another cookie cutter cheerleader girl
You're just like the rest of them.
Oh when will those boys ever learn
that you're too good for them?
Eyewitness accounts report a falling in your following
You roll your eyes as if you're bored
and there's no doubt it seems
After all the guys you know, you're a horrible liar.
What would you see now?
Would you scoff and roll your eyes?
while wearing your preppy disguise?
But ma'am you're nothing new to me
a die hard in an action series
You've got an attitude problem, but you look so fine
I'll just observe from the back, I've got the time
To take a shot at that, I'd have to get back in line
You're just another cookie cutter cheerleader girl
You're just like the rest of them.
Oh when will those boys ever learn
that you're too good for them?
Eyewitness accounts report a falling in your following
You roll your eyes as if you're bored
and there's no doubt it seems
After all the guys you know, you're a horrible liar.
What would you see now?
Would you scoff and roll your eyes?
while wearing your preppy disguise?
But ma'am you're nothing new to me
a die hard in an action series
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Cloudy Memories and Down Days
Dreams.
Sometimes I believe they're my own silent killers.
They really put a damper on my mood, sometimes.
A foggy buzzkill.
A blur of made up wishes and your mind's playground.
A made up cheap thrill.
A disconnected story line and disturbed rounds.
Last night messed me up for today.
Rescue me and tell me it's all fake.
It's not real.
It's not real.
It's not real.
It can't be real.
It's an old tradition.
My imagination remnants are premonitions.
A self-fulfilled prophecy.
Another thing for me to gloom over.
Sometimes I believe they're my own silent killers.
They really put a damper on my mood, sometimes.
A foggy buzzkill.
A blur of made up wishes and your mind's playground.
A made up cheap thrill.
A disconnected story line and disturbed rounds.
Last night messed me up for today.
Rescue me and tell me it's all fake.
It's not real.
It's not real.
It's not real.
It can't be real.
It's an old tradition.
My imagination remnants are premonitions.
A self-fulfilled prophecy.
Another thing for me to gloom over.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Fail safe
What's your problem?
Why do you want to be the superhero?
Why do you cause panic and havoc?
Is it to fill some selfish need?
Is it to fill some fantasy?
You've ruined the fun for someone called everyone.
You've always got to be the savior falling from grace, huh?
I admit, you've got me scared
Watching what I listen to.
But is there something there?
Or is it a loser too?
Do us a favor and pack up your bags
Fill them to the brim with your lies
Throw them to the bottom of the sea
With the end attached to your pant leg.
Why do you want to be the superhero?
Why do you cause panic and havoc?
Is it to fill some selfish need?
Is it to fill some fantasy?
You've ruined the fun for someone called everyone.
You've always got to be the savior falling from grace, huh?
I admit, you've got me scared
Watching what I listen to.
But is there something there?
Or is it a loser too?
Do us a favor and pack up your bags
Fill them to the brim with your lies
Throw them to the bottom of the sea
With the end attached to your pant leg.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Windows
Bulbs.
Lights.
Sirens.
Sound.
Life keeps going round and round
And round
And round
As you touch down.
Signaling to me, it's okay
It'll always be okay.
At least for today.
At least with the way
You look at me.
And still I cry.
And still I dignify
This meeting
This encounter.
Where are the fireworks?
The lights and sound?
The miraculous trumpets
Celebrating you, me?
There's no one to be ashamed
And yet you remain unnamed
--
I enlisted just to blame someone
The gunfire my anthem and the smoke my emblem
He told me, "Rewards come to those who afford the cost"
But what's the point once I figure out what I've lost?
It's no bother.
Call the roster.
--
I can't let drama get the best of me
A rose by any other name is still dead to me
I'm giving out false hope
and getting turned down my own
My patience is wearing thinner by the day
--
Bulbs.
Lights.
Sirens.
Sound.
Life keeps going round and round
And round
And round
As you touch down.
Signaling to me, it's okay...
You're not an invader to my world
As long as I'm not a specimen in yours
Lights.
Sirens.
Sound.
Life keeps going round and round
And round
And round
As you touch down.
Signaling to me, it's okay
It'll always be okay.
At least for today.
At least with the way
You look at me.
And still I cry.
And still I dignify
This meeting
This encounter.
Where are the fireworks?
The lights and sound?
The miraculous trumpets
Celebrating you, me?
There's no one to be ashamed
And yet you remain unnamed
--
I enlisted just to blame someone
The gunfire my anthem and the smoke my emblem
He told me, "Rewards come to those who afford the cost"
But what's the point once I figure out what I've lost?
It's no bother.
Call the roster.
--
I can't let drama get the best of me
A rose by any other name is still dead to me
I'm giving out false hope
and getting turned down my own
My patience is wearing thinner by the day
--
Bulbs.
Lights.
Sirens.
Sound.
Life keeps going round and round
And round
And round
As you touch down.
Signaling to me, it's okay...
You're not an invader to my world
As long as I'm not a specimen in yours
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Second Thoughts
I've got rejection in my blood
It's nothing to be proud of
The problem with being anything
Is handling responsibility
I'm not sure if I've fallen for you
or if I've just fallen
If love is so speechless,
why has it come calling?
Flashes of brilliance are showing
Somebody tell me where I'm going
On the reset, my life is loading
I wish you were here to say hello
I'll go back to my hiding place
It's destroying all meaning of the race
The sewer of society
is best for me
But why do I stay so down?
It's not worth the blues hanging around.
We're just close acquaintances,
Being more just doesn't make sense
It doesn't make sense.
Shhh...
It's nothing to be proud of
The problem with being anything
Is handling responsibility
I'm not sure if I've fallen for you
or if I've just fallen
If love is so speechless,
why has it come calling?
Flashes of brilliance are showing
Somebody tell me where I'm going
On the reset, my life is loading
I wish you were here to say hello
I'll go back to my hiding place
It's destroying all meaning of the race
The sewer of society
is best for me
But why do I stay so down?
It's not worth the blues hanging around.
We're just close acquaintances,
Being more just doesn't make sense
It doesn't make sense.
Shhh...
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Underground
The long tube was painted with spiral black and white. It seemed like it was a piss poor job at turning this sealed off elevator shaft into an Alice in Wonderland ride. I was heading towards what I deemed the Underground, a place not haunted by what was above ground but with the same fear surrounding it. It was set up by the government as a haven and was quickly overthrown by scum. Now crackheads and prostitutes run its streets, and I was just looking for an escape.
I'd been through too many broken homes and washed up warehouses to keep living like this. To think I'd left Casey and the emptiness for this? I was tired of watching the beam of my flashlight trace the dried blood and corpses of people who weren't quick enough. I was tired of sleeping in tucked away corners and waking up like my nightmares were only the beginning. My hoodie had been soaked, dried, and resoaked through out my "adventure". There was no way my mind could become sober with this routine. Could I really embrace what was happening? The lab experiments I'd found in all the basements made numbed me. I didn't have a plan at this point. I just wanted to get away.
Spiral after spiral kept flying past me. I would have been dizzy if it were not for the lack of sleep. I was on the mail tube to hell, and I needed to be alert. Wind came through air vents with a whooshing that me feel welcome that it was man-made. Lights became brighter and brighter. This I took as a good sign.
Finally the platform settled down into some place that looked like a subway. In all my daydreams, I never thought I'd be doing this. Heart racing, I took a step towards the slums of the beaten world. There were ticket windows, but no price for admittance. It was a sick metaphor for this life. The price you paid was your own dignity. I breathed in what could only be described as sewer waste. A public started to emerge; I tried my best to blend in. This was no escape artist's dream. A girl in curly hair and eyeliner threw me a sultry look and asked me if I wanted to join the mile-low club. I said "No thanks" and kept walking. I cringed at the feeling she gave me and the way she twisted her slang.
I had no idea where I was going, simply going with the traffic flow. I was on no mission and with no feelings of relief. Despite the fact I was as far away from the above ground problem as I could get, I couldn't shake the sense of fear. For one, this carnival attraction was a playground run by a society that was looked down upon, no pun intended. There was nowhere a person could walk without trembling for existence. It always struck me how Casey could do exactly that, but so innocently. I had always felt obliged to protect her, but once the rest of the House had taken her away and left me behind, what was I to do? I was going to drag them behind in their running away. No point in keeping a little ol' boy around if he won't keep up his end of the work.
The disease had made everyone sick. Not only was I running away from being another host, but family.
I'd been through too many broken homes and washed up warehouses to keep living like this. To think I'd left Casey and the emptiness for this? I was tired of watching the beam of my flashlight trace the dried blood and corpses of people who weren't quick enough. I was tired of sleeping in tucked away corners and waking up like my nightmares were only the beginning. My hoodie had been soaked, dried, and resoaked through out my "adventure". There was no way my mind could become sober with this routine. Could I really embrace what was happening? The lab experiments I'd found in all the basements made numbed me. I didn't have a plan at this point. I just wanted to get away.
Spiral after spiral kept flying past me. I would have been dizzy if it were not for the lack of sleep. I was on the mail tube to hell, and I needed to be alert. Wind came through air vents with a whooshing that me feel welcome that it was man-made. Lights became brighter and brighter. This I took as a good sign.
Finally the platform settled down into some place that looked like a subway. In all my daydreams, I never thought I'd be doing this. Heart racing, I took a step towards the slums of the beaten world. There were ticket windows, but no price for admittance. It was a sick metaphor for this life. The price you paid was your own dignity. I breathed in what could only be described as sewer waste. A public started to emerge; I tried my best to blend in. This was no escape artist's dream. A girl in curly hair and eyeliner threw me a sultry look and asked me if I wanted to join the mile-low club. I said "No thanks" and kept walking. I cringed at the feeling she gave me and the way she twisted her slang.
I had no idea where I was going, simply going with the traffic flow. I was on no mission and with no feelings of relief. Despite the fact I was as far away from the above ground problem as I could get, I couldn't shake the sense of fear. For one, this carnival attraction was a playground run by a society that was looked down upon, no pun intended. There was nowhere a person could walk without trembling for existence. It always struck me how Casey could do exactly that, but so innocently. I had always felt obliged to protect her, but once the rest of the House had taken her away and left me behind, what was I to do? I was going to drag them behind in their running away. No point in keeping a little ol' boy around if he won't keep up his end of the work.
The disease had made everyone sick. Not only was I running away from being another host, but family.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Rich Kids
The same guy who hogged his Nintendo
Is striving for a career field even though
His only advantage was his father
Because whatever money was no bother
He fell into whatever place he wanted
The other side of phantom despair
His stereotypical attitude was for lack
of words and time and place was just there
A minor chord in his life was the same
for all the songs sounded exactly alike
He went from skating down the boulevard
to strumming and pretending to rock the mike
Is striving for a career field even though
His only advantage was his father
Because whatever money was no bother
He fell into whatever place he wanted
The other side of phantom despair
His stereotypical attitude was for lack
of words and time and place was just there
A minor chord in his life was the same
for all the songs sounded exactly alike
He went from skating down the boulevard
to strumming and pretending to rock the mike
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Breathe Slowly
Sit down and enjoy the show
Don't be so quick to leave
There's nothing else for you to do
No other people you have to meet
Sorry if I keep things going
Sorry if I seem a bit anxious
I can't really help it
It's the problem whenever you run less
I have a feeling that I would love being shot
because my head is full of "she loves me, she loves me not"
There must have something I forgot to mention
Anything I could have said to ease the tension
Unfit and we're lost on a road
going nowhere, running out of gas
Learning what's on the other side
has never been more exciting than the past
What's there to lose if I'm just like the rest?
After all, I'm just a teenager on the borders of self destruction...
Don't be so quick to leave
There's nothing else for you to do
No other people you have to meet
Sorry if I keep things going
Sorry if I seem a bit anxious
I can't really help it
It's the problem whenever you run less
I have a feeling that I would love being shot
because my head is full of "she loves me, she loves me not"
There must have something I forgot to mention
Anything I could have said to ease the tension
Unfit and we're lost on a road
going nowhere, running out of gas
Learning what's on the other side
has never been more exciting than the past
What's there to lose if I'm just like the rest?
After all, I'm just a teenager on the borders of self destruction...
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
My Intentions Were Good, But My Aim Was Better
This was a song (term used loosely) I wrote in ninth grade for a final project. Derrick and I played it in front of the class and it was pretty epic I think. The topic involved the media's views on violence, such a perfect topic for a rebellious young man like myself (ahem) to write about.
So I'm sitting on the couch
Newspapers spread out
Pictures were like everywhere
Blood, insecure
No bother to cover the peace
Now report on the stains
Empty skulls scattered
Purification, Holy Water
Violence holding up the stilts
Now, "the same people who
invented tragedy knew
that even with sacred circles
war never intrudes
We need to see a fight!" (Marche 38).
Vanishing point of fists and femurs
Broken skies and sky lines
The world a crumpled piece of paper
Silence on the left, War on the Right
Close in and drift tight
Own perspective
So I'm sitting on the couch
Newspapers spread out
Pictures were like everywhere
Blood, insecure
No bother to cover the peace
Now report on the stains
Empty skulls scattered
Purification, Holy Water
Violence holding up the stilts
Now, "the same people who
invented tragedy knew
that even with sacred circles
war never intrudes
We need to see a fight!" (Marche 38).
Vanishing point of fists and femurs
Broken skies and sky lines
The world a crumpled piece of paper
Silence on the left, War on the Right
Close in and drift tight
Own perspective
Friday, April 16, 2010
Similar Complaints
Shut the hell up old man
You don't know what the hell you're talking about
No matter your wish, this is not your world
It's now another generation's turn
Your peers had their chance
Now they've left the world in the hands
of forgotten votes and drunken leaders
The naive bottom boredom breathers
So here we are, offering another point
Nothing different than the goals of yours
The bandanna-colored wave of violence will settle when we're dead
Thank you God of Misery for your company
Save some for the fishes
Though it seems that it's just wishes
At least Florida will cooler underwater
Though conservatives will not bother
Signs of the end is near
Supported by the shaggy beard
of the forgotten man's endeavor
Unfortunate prescribed weather
So feel the pain
No different than
The problems and solutions
with excess ammunition
It's all the same
You don't know what the hell you're talking about
No matter your wish, this is not your world
It's now another generation's turn
Your peers had their chance
Now they've left the world in the hands
of forgotten votes and drunken leaders
The naive bottom boredom breathers
So here we are, offering another point
Nothing different than the goals of yours
The bandanna-colored wave of violence will settle when we're dead
Thank you God of Misery for your company
Save some for the fishes
Though it seems that it's just wishes
At least Florida will cooler underwater
Though conservatives will not bother
Signs of the end is near
Supported by the shaggy beard
of the forgotten man's endeavor
Unfortunate prescribed weather
So feel the pain
No different than
The problems and solutions
with excess ammunition
It's all the same
Monday, April 5, 2010
PSSA Free Time
To guard all those
Like we do our fantasies
To scour our hearts
like we do to our dreams
One step is our back flip
Too far gone is the friendship
To pay for love is a disgrace
Many cannot afford in the first place
As the lights reflect
and kinship reject
it seems we're alone
once again, without home
without soul
--
I feel her staring at me
Are her eyes capable of witnessing
such a sad dumb sight
with one thing left on his mind?
Can his hair hide every blank detail?
The features of a stone-blooded boy
Who might as well be deaf and blind
He won't listen to even himself
The destruction is countless
His mom wants him out less
She's sitting across the way
Still laughing and looking without a care
I can still feel her eyes as she
Still walks on by,
Her dress a victim to the wind.
Oh what will he say to me?
I meant nothing by his baby.
And then I'm not sure if
she meant anything to me.
--
The things I do after I finish the math portion :P
Like we do our fantasies
To scour our hearts
like we do to our dreams
One step is our back flip
Too far gone is the friendship
To pay for love is a disgrace
Many cannot afford in the first place
As the lights reflect
and kinship reject
it seems we're alone
once again, without home
without soul
--
I feel her staring at me
Are her eyes capable of witnessing
such a sad dumb sight
with one thing left on his mind?
Can his hair hide every blank detail?
The features of a stone-blooded boy
Who might as well be deaf and blind
He won't listen to even himself
The destruction is countless
His mom wants him out less
She's sitting across the way
Still laughing and looking without a care
I can still feel her eyes as she
Still walks on by,
Her dress a victim to the wind.
Oh what will he say to me?
I meant nothing by his baby.
And then I'm not sure if
she meant anything to me.
--
The things I do after I finish the math portion :P
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Carpe Diem
All signs point to yes, but he begs to differ
"They're the next senior class" but I don't listen.
He jogs, he shakes
Smooth in his quakes
He's the oldest young man that I've ever seen
The first one to make them mad in inspiration
He checks, directs
Looks back, corrects
He's worse than gasoline as he burns the satin crawled walls
Destroying the shell that everyone says this place caused
You can't fight power with cowards
So push out your chest and be louder
They can't hear you in the back.
It doesn't matter if the light's focused on you or not as long as you care.
"They're the next senior class" but I don't listen.
He jogs, he shakes
Smooth in his quakes
He's the oldest young man that I've ever seen
The first one to make them mad in inspiration
He checks, directs
Looks back, corrects
He's worse than gasoline as he burns the satin crawled walls
Destroying the shell that everyone says this place caused
You can't fight power with cowards
So push out your chest and be louder
They can't hear you in the back.
It doesn't matter if the light's focused on you or not as long as you care.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Imperfect
I thought it was sort of cute,
the way you chased me all over the playground
How you pushed me on and off the swing
and jumped me in the baseball field
How for Halloween you dressed up
as a bride, veil and all
I dressed up as a superhero
ran away, cape and all
You were a damsel in distress
when you kept tripping on your dress
You kept trying to buying my attention
with ice cream cones and toy transportation
---
So there she was, telling me everything I never knew I wanted to hear. Those words and actions I'd kill for now (though killing should only drive it away). At first I drove her away, feeling I wasn't ready (story of my life). She kissed me on the cheek, and I didn't realize the meaning. What did I care? First grade was a time for learning how to tell the difference between capital letters and their small counterparts. It was a time for negative numbers, not negative issues. Eventually I unconsciously gave in, I think. It was attention and I wanted it. I pursued for the sake of pursuing, even pulling out jokes about her dressing up for a wedding at Halloween. I said, "Batman doesn't need a wife!". I think she grew tired. I tried kissing her at reading time, but to no avail. Maybe it was for the best. I would have been branded as something I didn't want to be. Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it. I do that about everything. (I say 'maybe' a lot, maybe). So as the years went by, I moved on and forgot about it most of the time. Occasionally, I would see her chasing this kid named Eric or him chasing her and would think to myself, there she goes again. Why isn't that me? Because I didn't want myself to be? Most likely. Though, to be honest, I didn't have such deep thoughts when I was 8. It was more like "There she goes. Hey the swing is open". I could deal with that. Now, I don't know what to think.
the way you chased me all over the playground
How you pushed me on and off the swing
and jumped me in the baseball field
How for Halloween you dressed up
as a bride, veil and all
I dressed up as a superhero
ran away, cape and all
You were a damsel in distress
when you kept tripping on your dress
You kept trying to buying my attention
with ice cream cones and toy transportation
---
So there she was, telling me everything I never knew I wanted to hear. Those words and actions I'd kill for now (though killing should only drive it away). At first I drove her away, feeling I wasn't ready (story of my life). She kissed me on the cheek, and I didn't realize the meaning. What did I care? First grade was a time for learning how to tell the difference between capital letters and their small counterparts. It was a time for negative numbers, not negative issues. Eventually I unconsciously gave in, I think. It was attention and I wanted it. I pursued for the sake of pursuing, even pulling out jokes about her dressing up for a wedding at Halloween. I said, "Batman doesn't need a wife!". I think she grew tired. I tried kissing her at reading time, but to no avail. Maybe it was for the best. I would have been branded as something I didn't want to be. Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it. I do that about everything. (I say 'maybe' a lot, maybe). So as the years went by, I moved on and forgot about it most of the time. Occasionally, I would see her chasing this kid named Eric or him chasing her and would think to myself, there she goes again. Why isn't that me? Because I didn't want myself to be? Most likely. Though, to be honest, I didn't have such deep thoughts when I was 8. It was more like "There she goes. Hey the swing is open". I could deal with that. Now, I don't know what to think.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Keeping Track
Put to shame
Hide my face
From everyone but myself
My promises to you are worth more
than the ones I make to myself
The ones I break everyday
The smooth killer of insanity
I'm an organism
with a hole for a mouth
I can't control whatever's coming out
Reduced to the washed up cartons
I spilled on the way to the floor
Swelling prevents me from succeeding
With any plan I might have today
Concentration is a parasite
I can't afford to have
when the light refuses to
stop casting shadows of you
He called my bluff
on the king of my hopes
I never went all-in
I'm still broke
I'm still broken
Wind me up, turn me the right way
Wrong, you left for something
I couldn't grasp in my guts
Where it felt numb,
Thank you lidocaine.
Hide my face
From everyone but myself
My promises to you are worth more
than the ones I make to myself
The ones I break everyday
The smooth killer of insanity
I'm an organism
with a hole for a mouth
I can't control whatever's coming out
Reduced to the washed up cartons
I spilled on the way to the floor
Swelling prevents me from succeeding
With any plan I might have today
Concentration is a parasite
I can't afford to have
when the light refuses to
stop casting shadows of you
He called my bluff
on the king of my hopes
I never went all-in
I'm still broke
I'm still broken
Wind me up, turn me the right way
Wrong, you left for something
I couldn't grasp in my guts
Where it felt numb,
Thank you lidocaine.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Lytic Cycle
He's a simple little boy with a harsh complexion
He thinks that he's haunted with some condition
Something about not being able to touch your daughter
And feeling her through man-made appendages
See, the thing that hurts him most
Is not being able to get close
to the girl he wants to call his own
He just wants to go home
She's just another girl that there's no chance of
Learning about her feral incandescent love
Killing himself to use up everything she has
The symbiote he wishes to become
The room is sterile, is it too unbearable
to watch him throw a fit?
For soon he'll be engaged for permission
Performing super soul total fission
Breathing on the windows wasting his time.
He thinks that he's haunted with some condition
Something about not being able to touch your daughter
And feeling her through man-made appendages
See, the thing that hurts him most
Is not being able to get close
to the girl he wants to call his own
He just wants to go home
She's just another girl that there's no chance of
Learning about her feral incandescent love
Killing himself to use up everything she has
The symbiote he wishes to become
The room is sterile, is it too unbearable
to watch him throw a fit?
For soon he'll be engaged for permission
Performing super soul total fission
Breathing on the windows wasting his time.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Two Words
(Based on a short story we read in class by Isabel Allende :P)
They're falling on me, whispered into existence
The load bearing beams of my sanity
are shattering from their deliverance
Impairing the sense of my dignity
Collapsing on the floor
Daydream sweats disturb my routine
I can't get these words out of my skull
Etched into the eyes that never bleed
I'm falling, dissolving
Another meeting prepared for me
I'm tired, of lasting
Without hint of her beauty
Captivated isn't the right word, please excuse my ignorance
"Can you sell me the words for a speech?"
There was no reason to smile, little did I know about her hands
Can you repeat what you said to me?
Please free me, release me
Please stay with me tonight.
They're falling on me, whispered into existence
The load bearing beams of my sanity
are shattering from their deliverance
Impairing the sense of my dignity
Collapsing on the floor
Daydream sweats disturb my routine
I can't get these words out of my skull
Etched into the eyes that never bleed
I'm falling, dissolving
Another meeting prepared for me
I'm tired, of lasting
Without hint of her beauty
Captivated isn't the right word, please excuse my ignorance
"Can you sell me the words for a speech?"
There was no reason to smile, little did I know about her hands
Can you repeat what you said to me?
Please free me, release me
Please stay with me tonight.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Fridge Magnets
Rearrange as you please:
They say love's the only rule
and my heart is no exception
but you know what they say about rules
is that they're meant to be broken
--
If you said that you'd never know, then you'd be lying
If you said you couldn't imagine something that satisfying
--
Half worked half to death; to sleep I owe much debt
Chock full of brain dumps every day
Coupons to help me save on; Angels disguised as my dawn
Every day is the same fill in the blanks.
--
These secrets that cause me grief
beyond belief
of what I thought I wanted to be
--
Drying wet cotton at the back of my throat
Drowning in the doubts of my peers
Tattooed on my chest, melodramatic heart break
Silence as they lent me their ears
--
Strangled by a dog leash and
dragged back down to hell
Pushed to tears as the moon commands the sky
Stuck in my bedroom looking at the same patterns
over and over again
--
I'm a detective on the weekend
I'm totally free with an astrick
Check out my ad and check out who I am
If you're falling over then I'll be your man
--
What would you see now?
Would you scoff and roll your eyes?
while Wearing your preppy disguise?
But ma'am you're nothing new to me
a die hard in an action series
They say love's the only rule
and my heart is no exception
but you know what they say about rules
is that they're meant to be broken
--
If you said that you'd never know, then you'd be lying
If you said you couldn't imagine something that satisfying
--
Half worked half to death; to sleep I owe much debt
Chock full of brain dumps every day
Coupons to help me save on; Angels disguised as my dawn
Every day is the same fill in the blanks.
--
These secrets that cause me grief
beyond belief
of what I thought I wanted to be
--
Drying wet cotton at the back of my throat
Drowning in the doubts of my peers
Tattooed on my chest, melodramatic heart break
Silence as they lent me their ears
--
Strangled by a dog leash and
dragged back down to hell
Pushed to tears as the moon commands the sky
Stuck in my bedroom looking at the same patterns
over and over again
--
I'm a detective on the weekend
I'm totally free with an astrick
Check out my ad and check out who I am
If you're falling over then I'll be your man
--
What would you see now?
Would you scoff and roll your eyes?
while Wearing your preppy disguise?
But ma'am you're nothing new to me
a die hard in an action series
Monday, February 1, 2010
Secret on the Sahara
(I write too many of these...)
It's past my time to go to bed,
But that can't keep you out of my head.
I've got my eyes peeled
And kept my lips sealed
In order to moderate my self control.
Strangled by a leash called sympathy
Luck has nothing to do with me
How's it going with Life?
I hear that he's a nice guy
But my tongue's got me tied up with no R's to roll.
I'm drawing lines in the sand that don't exist
I'm walking over tripmines all the time
Luck has nothing to do with anything
Abandonment comes to those who wait in line
I've given you full promises
Now give me a full sedative
It's past my time to go to bed,
But that can't keep you out of my head.
I've got my eyes peeled
And kept my lips sealed
In order to moderate my self control.
Strangled by a leash called sympathy
Luck has nothing to do with me
How's it going with Life?
I hear that he's a nice guy
But my tongue's got me tied up with no R's to roll.
I'm drawing lines in the sand that don't exist
I'm walking over tripmines all the time
Luck has nothing to do with anything
Abandonment comes to those who wait in line
I've given you full promises
Now give me a full sedative
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Recipe Poem
School assignment...
Prepare materials:
Hardware, software, nerves, and curves
Measure with time, calendar recommended.
Pre-make calendar to prepare for the worst.
Build base with a previously made recipe
Friends and family found to work best.
Start with frustration, sprinkle angst.
Add the essence of intelligence.
Lace a pound of muscle, that’s all that’s needed.
Set up the heart for house and home.
One ounce of humor, allow room to expand.
Two cups of music scales for bone.
Eye of newt to increase normality.
Fill one stomach with butterflies
Make sure mind is secure.
Mute infatuation and white lies.
Scrape off darkness and despair.
24 inches of attention span.
Mix Eastern influence until blended.
Pour complete mixture into pan.
Heat with Fahrenheit until 98.6 degrees.
Let sit in front of Halo 3 for several days or until fully developed.
Best Served Sparingly, remember to say please.
Prepare materials:
Hardware, software, nerves, and curves
Measure with time, calendar recommended.
Pre-make calendar to prepare for the worst.
Build base with a previously made recipe
Friends and family found to work best.
Start with frustration, sprinkle angst.
Add the essence of intelligence.
Lace a pound of muscle, that’s all that’s needed.
Set up the heart for house and home.
One ounce of humor, allow room to expand.
Two cups of music scales for bone.
Eye of newt to increase normality.
Fill one stomach with butterflies
Make sure mind is secure.
Mute infatuation and white lies.
Scrape off darkness and despair.
24 inches of attention span.
Mix Eastern influence until blended.
Pour complete mixture into pan.
Heat with Fahrenheit until 98.6 degrees.
Let sit in front of Halo 3 for several days or until fully developed.
Best Served Sparingly, remember to say please.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
(Dis/En)couraged
I don't know what it is.
My jaw is falling apart and my eyelids are sticking.
I can't put my finger on it.
I'm twisted inside and the gears don't seem to be clicking.
Call it empty happiness,
There's no escape from cracked eggs and disgusted faces.
Perfect moment with pauses,
Chattering veins accelerated at dumb paces.
I can't make up my mind,
I thought I ran out of time?
Am I the angel or the ex?
Your blessed fate or the regrets?
My jaw is falling apart and my eyelids are sticking.
I can't put my finger on it.
I'm twisted inside and the gears don't seem to be clicking.
Call it empty happiness,
There's no escape from cracked eggs and disgusted faces.
Perfect moment with pauses,
Chattering veins accelerated at dumb paces.
I can't make up my mind,
I thought I ran out of time?
Am I the angel or the ex?
Your blessed fate or the regrets?
Monday, January 4, 2010
Rumble Strips
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
No.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
No, make it stop.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Please don't say it's true.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
No...
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I wish I could do something, but I'm too tired, too weak, and it's too damn early.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Seriously? The birds aren't even up yet.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Stop looking at me with that face, it's not as if that'll change anything.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
What the hell are you pointing at?
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Whatever.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
It's times like these I wish my life was more original.
No.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
No, make it stop.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Please don't say it's true.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
No...
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I wish I could do something, but I'm too tired, too weak, and it's too damn early.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Seriously? The birds aren't even up yet.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Stop looking at me with that face, it's not as if that'll change anything.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
What the hell are you pointing at?
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Whatever.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
It's times like these I wish my life was more original.
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