He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.
--Albert Einstein --

Saturday, November 8, 2008

The Sweetness of a Breath Today

I'll tweak these dreams while I'm awake
and strain from them what I may take

My flesh gives not what does my heart
and the conflict there pulls me apart

While the toil of life does grate away
like blasted grains of the desert sway

We embrace the beauty of decay
and the sweetness of a breath today

I reach behind me towards the start
this case gives way before the heart

So I sail these dreams down to their wake
finding less and less what I may take



The sky is a heavy gray
I see the darkness coming
and I sit and wait
there's no strength for running

Sunshine illuminate this soup
show me the end of the maze
dry up these doubts
and evaporate this haze

What do you do when
you can't be you anymore
with all the exits blocked
except that one door

I think heavy thoughts
respect and death and grace
and dream of what becomes
legacy and worth and place

And then hope bursts through
as the way is most stark
I hold my breath and swim
through this wave of dark

Sunshine shine on me
rock me gently and sing
songs of laughter and marrow
til' pain is just a thing


Measured Heart

I used to have an arena
dashed with friends and confidence
now my theme is tears

I think it was better once upon a time
when I thought it was all my fault
and I was afraid to cry

Where are you all now?
is it too hard to watch me crumble
and recall me snatching you from the ashes

There's been water flowing under here
and as I flail about - the bridge blights my face
like sandpaper on the cheek I turned

Too late I realize why I was watching over you
and put my hand back in my pocket
a guide is always on his lonely own

There's no satisfaction in you gaining no inspiration
in the way I carried myself
and I'll carry off your darkness still

I guess none of you ever expected
to see me shuffle off without a fight
and allow you to finally measure my heart

August 18, 2007
(the first day of the rest of my life...)



This effete city drinks my energy
a million engines start to scream
there's a crowded sort of emptiness
with a lack of blue and green

And the gray chokes off the joy
as the poison puddles up
eloquently making toasts
while we're holding busted cups

But there's power in these teardrops
warmth in a given touch
and this importunate progress
doesn't seem to matter much

Find worth in what is shattered
or the vacuity of wealth
for the strength is in the fragile
who finds magnanimity in himself



Friday, November 7, 2008

Irrelevant Here

On a bench by the carwash waiting for the bus
she cries with the rain
swirling clouds and pain
sobs with the smell of water and dust

And the train rumbles through a small town
she wants more than this
he promised more than this
and delivered her the bottom side of down

Thirty-five years to get to irrelevant here
smiling at the thought
of all life has brought
wincing at the thought of acquainted future fear

A bus to somewhere else pulls up in the sun
won't look for a rainbow
as she's standing up to go
never looking back now that she's decided to run

July 3, 2008


Out of a sun blue sky a drop of blood
like crimson irony on a clear pane of glass

the willow sways with the breath of clouds
and the seeds fall like slow motion snow

I've been here before like deja vu and death
with shaking hands I wipe sweat away

and continue on

Wicked music lashes my head and licks tears
tearing the skin off my soul with wicked string

the sun threatens to set but tarries there
just to see what lies around the next turn

and the path I'm on always leads there
the terminus of fools where I pause to grin

and continue on

A rock in my shoe bothers me more
every step I take in this dissolute direction

sweet stars won't shine through the fog
embrace the mist that enshrouds and blinds me

and procrastination slows my misanthropy
while I remember how to be human

and continue on

I wipe the bloody speck from my eye
seeing red loses its endearment quick

what does this vulture owe me but hunger
I can crack it's neck if I could catch it

and pain reminds me that I'm not free
sorrow tears my hull but I'll float away

and continue on


Compos Mentis

Compos Mentis

There are fifty-three synonyms for the adjective eccentric
from aberrant to yo-yo, including freaky, geeky and off-center

I like idiosyncratic for myself but way out is not far off
I'm a nail that screams hit me hammer I'm way out

I've tried to hide my face in the crowd to just pass by
but I've never been one to conform, I don't like to flow

I guess I'll never believe that the bell curve is compos mentis
and I'll never be fingered for waxing conventional

When you look at me so strangely I know that you fear
you're afraid of what I can do unbound by your rituals

Maybe, just maybe my father wasn't around like yours
maybe no one taught me to work on cars and make repairs

Could be that some one taught me how to dream
someone taught me how to imagine I could make things better

And maybe just because no one taught me to think like you
it doesn't mean that I'm demented, drifting astray

I probably am lost in this sea of judges of good intentions
see me guilty if willingness to risk means a plan is sour

So get comfortable and pretend that normal is always right
hammer me down if you get the chance, I understand

Here I am sticking way up waving diversity way out
Caught staring off in the distance afraid this world is small.