Tuesday, October 25, 2005

When I strip you of your function, your sleeping beauty unfolds...

This town I built
is burning down around me

This fortress forged in steel
Was mostly made of courage
Tiny guns a blazing
the bombs we built exploding
the tiny world we’re holding
With fear instilled and still I feel
The wounds of bloody Sunday

Our old dirt road is long
The trees the tracks we used to run to
The getaway, our great escape
We always took the long way
We found ourselves on Sunday
By Wednesday I forget
It’s easy til it’s Sunday

The heart I drew is shreaking across and then fading on the chalkboard
The star we blue is fading with the daylight on these old jeans

I wear this bright red shirt
You gave me on my birthday
So you won’t see I'm bleeding
You know you are my Sunday
I drink you on Monday
On Tuesday you visit
On Wednesday I wake
And starve until it’s Sunday

This story book
is drowning in the drama

I picked up that my pen
You put on a show
on all of life's stages
with red caped stories
the passion was contagious
our thoughts were dams busting wide
the river of consciousness now floods
we can finally swim to work if we go at all
in the bowels of our city we finally embrace

Dr. Jones where are you now

You told us her hair was flowing gently
Her eyes were heavy and yours were soggy burning
500 yard dance w/ at least 10 between you
she never existed yet she was there
she was the spirit inside you showing itself to us
the gap between the words
the silence between the sounds
the space that is this room
you’ve turned me upside down
red is good but heavy is better

Monday, October 10, 2005

Sense is for the weak

Sometimes I wish my heart would just ho ahead and explode…
Sometimes it hurts so bad that it becomes counter productive, the beating…I mean.
My blood is tired of traveling through the endless globular tunnels that are ever so slowly closing in on themselves. It’s always dark. It’s a little too warm unless it’s snowing outside and it never does. When you do see light it’s always eclipsed. That’s the last time I stay up all night to see one…an eclipse. They said the northern lights were to visit for a night or two. I should have just looked at the name and hit the pillow. And when that happens I wish I was dreaming but the fog that is the dream is a little bit clearer than my waking life. And then I’m not sure if I am here at all and feel lucky for it. Only that if I am then there is a fine line between me and the beginning. Everything else in not sense so let’s give it a go. Let’s execrate the words that are always there and liken the phrases to the air. Clenching the weary plastic heart and head that breathe together and the concept of together is important. So when it’s all said and done today make sure you are not alone. Please fear being alone, the deep fear that I have come to know. The opposite day as you make your way. Pull behind you a train, a long black iron coal burning train, so you will think you are alive and then realize that it killed you, and make sure you are wearing a smile before it happens, oh and a red shirt. It takes less muscles to do that. Obviously frowning is not for the lazy.