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...

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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.

Untitled

It is the resolve to want to be together, despite the fear of contact with another, a desire to push through the ambiguous loneliness, and be something more. A willingness to hurt and be hurt, to love and be loved, and all the joys and sorrows that come along with it. It is the want to feel alive; to peek out from under our rocks and find out that maybe, maybe sometime's life just isn't as complicated as we all make it out to be. Maybe some things good really do just come our way when we least expect it. The key is to see it before it passes by, and knowing when to hold on.

Searching for Pluto (part 1)

Nothing in life ever works out the way you want it to. In fact, wanting something to work out is a sure-fire way to ensure that something doesn’t happen. I knew this because every time I wanted something prior to this I had watched it fall apart. I guess a lifetime of failing to get what you want can make you cynical. I don’t know.
I did know, however, that it wasn’t going to work out for me this time, just as much as it never worked out for me before. I knew it even before I committed myself to see it through, but I didn’t care. Well, that’s wrong. I did care. I just couldn’t stop myself.
So I packed my bags. I sold my car for a lot less than it was worth. It wasn’t worth a whole lot, but definitely a lot more than I got it for it. It didn’t matter. It got me the bus ticket I needed, and all that really mattered was that I had to follow her.
I didn’t even know if she wanted me to, but I knew that I had to, because things were just so damned complicated and life was just so damned messy that if I didn’t, if I didn’t go, I’d always wonder, and I’d think, and I’d hate myself more than I already did with my wondering.
So I sold everything I owned for a measly three hundred-fifty dollars and bought myself a handle of whiskey, a carton of cigarettes, and a bus ticket to a city thirty hours away. It may as well have been half the world, or the whole world, or two worlds. It could have been Pluto.
It felt so far away as I waited half the day at the bus station. I had kept one of my guitars, but I ended up drinking a third of the handle and chain smoking so playing was the last thing on my mind. Actually I couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that I had no idea how she was going to take seeing me again. She’d be surprised, I was sure. I was also sure I’d been a complete fucking idiot. Did I really just sell everything for a bus ticket and a good solid day of drunkenness?
I was definitely a fucking idiot. People don’t fall in love anymore, love died right beside kindness around the same time greed and selfishness took over. We lived in a world where love is a toy to be played with and everyone was so damned self-centered no one bothered to see it anymore when it looked them in the eye.
That’s why she moved half the world away, and that’s why I was bound and determined to go after her. Someone had to prove the world wrong.

What is this being?

Sometimes it can be hard to take too much in at once, overwhelming really. Or perhaps the truth is always just too hard to see? And what of the thoughts that can’t be put to words and pictures and feelings and what of, what of--just being? What of that fear of being cut too deep? What of the things that are on the tip of your tongue bursting to be free? The things that you just want to scream so clearly you can taste them floating in your mouth and yet you can’t find the words. What of being so elated your heart could just stop beating? What of putting thoughts to words and words to thoughts. What of letting go of thought and only feeling. What is this world? What is this—just being?

Beneath the Sky

I haven't forgotten the blog, or abandoned you. I've just been very, very busy. I could keep you entertained with a list of excuses, but really, I don't feel like writing them, so why should anyone want to read it. Instead here's something I wrote today that will just have to suffice until I can put the time and thought into blogging once again.

There was a wind and the water made waves
lapping on our legs as we discarded clothes,
and our voices sang in laughter
drowning in the stars above
and for just that moment we were alone in the world.
Salt-sprayed lips,
unspoken words,
sealed with a kiss,
dancing amid the waves naked and alone.
And the stars themselves they mirrored us,
tiny and alone to our eyes,
blanketed by space and city glow
bouncing their light just to say hello
as we played beneath the sky
in the waves and the wind,
looking back like stars and wondering,
'where did we begin?'