Black Friday

Another sleepless time last night, words scrolled past my tongue, but every time I tossed and turned I failed to catch a single one. The morning comes so slow and cold, the memories and words once spoken I am trying hard now not to hold, but the thought that keeps on circling is that everything's gone wrong. If I could first correct the world, perhaps then I could write this song, but I can't even find my own meaning, I am stumblingly behind. I guess I cannot really fault you, only hope one day you'll change your mind...

---

I don't know what's up with all the rhyming lately, I keep trying to break away from it with my writing and keep finding myself only capable of communicating in this flowing rhyme and meter style. It's been a bit aggravating. Anyone else ever find themselves getting stuck in a certain style even after it feels long played out?

Thanksgiving Grace

Thanksgiving Grace: An accountable tale of one nothing’s Thanksgiving. Pre-edit.
[The following text was written at various points throughout the course of the day of 11/26/09 They appear before you unabridged and unedited as transcribed directly from the block of wood upon which they had been painstakingly carved]
Dear (G/(g))od,
I am the scum beneath the earth/ the world beneath your feet/ the mysterious stranger in the night, that you wish you could meet/ I am the sun, the sea/ the sky and clouds/ I am the evil underneath/ I am the feeling, I am the pain/ I am the cold November light/ I am your heart’s desire, but your mind’s already took flight/ I am everything and nothing, I am nothing, not at all/ the only reason I’m still going is that I continue still to fall./ I am standing here and screaming you are waiting for me to disappear/ I am everything and nothing/ I am nothing if not here. And I’ll just keep on falling/ falling till the world will clear…
….And now I’m watching the rain come in/ drowned, out wasted/ where did time begin?/ Buzzards circle something dead again/ and the voices blur into the background/ and I find myself alone in my own head/ again, it’s empty ,wasted, drowned dead/ Found myself self loathing and hating all I’ve done/ Such is life it bears repeating/ before they end cycles must first have been begun…
…And someone talks my ear off/ and I connect it’s just life’s cycle epitome’d again/ and everything worth loving is fleeting/ and the bad things never end/ and my thoughts and focus just go reeling/ and I remember things begin/ and everything will end.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Thanks for the tough year.

P.S.
And we will always haunt each other/haunt and not come back/ because human mechanics won’t allow our universe to work just quite like that…
…Lot’s more talking and I hear… what? What… do… I… hear?
……………..turned out to be a pool pump…
P.S.S
And an unexpected blessing from you makes me think I won’t be sharing this at all/ who wants to hear a nothing screams before he falls?...
…and simplest connections are laid when I realize it is not my lighter that I’ve been hording, nor is it my friend I made.

We were founded on a nation of slackers is it any wonder we all seek only to destroy ourselves? And we are heading for a war.
…And it’s freebird I relate to on the water once again and it’s just another dying cycle/ things have ended/ things begin.
…Silly City gal and City-Country Guy, always looking ahead or looking behind, but to what’s around us we are blind.
…Dude what are you doing over there with that knife?/ I’m trying to sharpen a pencil… in the dark… with a knife… so I can write… in the dark… with a pencil.
…And as I pass you by, U2 starts playing “With or Without You” So I crane my neck to catch a glimpse, or perhaps to even say “hi”/ instead my eyes see nothing and my lips whisper a soft goodbye
…So I spent the day at long, lost pondering, my heart’s thoughts a mess when I come home late at last/ to realize I should be thankful, thankful stones were even cast.

If Adam were a Serpent

I guess I'll just go away and fade back into my place beneath the rocks. Where coldness and loneliness combine with warmth and happiness to make a picture perfect, empty hollow gray and turns blind eyes away from the light of day where they cannot see it is their own venom upon which they feed. Poison for poison's sake to drown that throbbing, aching need. I guess I'll just slither back and fade away, leave you alone, fall back to when we both thought we were okay, a time when things were simpler didn't worry about the way... With problems numbed behind our empty cups and the world a distant haze, the voices they don't scream so loud, they blur amongst the days, the loneliness is so much easier with an empty, hollow head and everything is so much simpler when your drowned out, gone, or dead.