The Direction of Go

I lost my soul inside a church and the priest asked me,"Did it hurt
when God sank his shining teeth into you?"
I had no answer, my tongue was numb
deaf as wood and twice as dumb
I kept my arms wrapped tight around my ribcage.

And just like that I walked the streets and all I saw were hungry thieves
who only saw that I had nothing left now
To steal, to rob, God took it all
He lifted me then let me fall
what is holy justice up there if it's not a deadly rage?

I don't believe in whisps of thoughts, what I sold or what I bought
is just a part of the path I walk now
I can dance like mad or stand so still
you'd never see me on your hill
wanting to get inside your lonely heart somehow.

I don't live inside a box and I found out neither does God
and He and I are both alone, the same
Our love is tragic but so full of hope
I think together we could cope
but you'll have to let down all those walls now.

God and I may have broken up but we're still friends, I have His cup
and it sits on the ledge of my window
Balanced there right on the edge
I think of you and I make a pledge
That Love will never come between your heart and mine

You wanted protection and you put up your dukes to protect you
the hunter's arrow a perfect shot
You left me lame and broken there
You drove away to the mountain's air
and as I bled our love away under the moonlight

I asked my old friend God up there, to open up that pearly stair
to escalate me just above zero
He gave me just enough help to stand
but I didn't see in His other hand
He had a picture of the moment you destroyed me

He would not barter it back to me, he lied about Eternity
and said I wouldn't like it anyway
That the twist inside is the pain I seek
it's the only thing that keeps me meek
enough to keep from wandering asleep into the sea

Now I live between the black and light, never wrong and never right
and for once I feel a little more relieved
You met me when the roads had broken
But all the love I'd ever spoken
to you was meant then and I meant no harm

But like God I can't reach far enough, or have the strength to set it off
and blow down all your walls
I'm not a doctor who can heal all your wounds
or like Jesus call into your tomb
so you would rise, born again, into my arms

I've been brought low
but it's ok you know
I'm still walking
in the direction of Go.

A Monument Waiting

Old, empty hands
gnarled and wrung together
by their elderly owner

sitting next to me he says nothing
looking around seems an effort
and when he stares

out of his watery blue eyes
i clench my teeth
i hold my breath

he is not speaking
my presence, my intrusion
on his internal conversation

i know he's thinking
about his answers
questions aren't his issue

he looks to the horizon
and knows i'm watching
he draws a deep breath

and his voice is so worn
as he smiles and says
"It sends no invitation."

i don't ask him from who
the inviation may come
because i know

i smile back, awkwardly
i want to say something
but i stay my tongue

to him, i'm too young to understand
to me, he's too old to bother
with my empathetic thoughts

i walk away from this old stranger
this living history, this monument
to all that Life contains

and think it might be nice
if Death were an entity
that could actually write letters

"Please attend your graduation ceremony.
I'm looking forward to meeting you.
See you soon."

Thoughts At This Days End

The evening is reminding me that another day has come to an end
and all the days thoughts are sitting with me now and they bend
me around into some reflective state i wish sometimes would not begin
and the words i write now might be words i just never bother to send

so the theme is love and how no one can really define just what that is
maybe it’s what we call a feeling that like flour we try to grind and sift
into something and out of nothing that we understand or really live
we only know it’s something we want to get and if we’re smart we just might give

and what are all these ponderings to you if at the end of your day
you’re not sure why i can’t seem to say the things that you say?
and even if i try i only stumble like a lame dog over my own tongue anyway
so i backtrack and try to tell you i only hope that what we feel might stay

i’d be remiss and irresponsible again if didn’t point out that you’ve found a fool
who can think the world’s come crashing down if i can’t find the right tool
or misplace my lighter and act like i’ve just lost the most expensive jewel
and baby i can be so lost inside myself that i can even come off as cruel

i might rock and roll like an epileptic scarecrow who dreams of surf and sun
or boast like a mighty warrior who has never done anything but run
i might spin a yarn that spans the heights of the sky and even seems fun
but i know that the end is the end and what is done is almost always done

so i take no pride nor false hope in a world where few hopes are realized
and knowing these things to my bones is what keeps my ego checked and in line
because the best that we can hope for as our feet head for that final time
is to close our eyes and know inside that everything will be just fine

if you can get beyond the mind and mouth attached that work in asychronous time
if you can see beyond the morning mumblings of a dream drenched mind
and if you have enough life left to even spare some of your days own time
then you might discover that love is often found in the things that are most sublime

but if we are to discover, lover, that we just won’t ever really fit
i hope you understand it may have been because you tried to place a bit
inside a mouth that’s seen too much to hold back when something is not right
in the end i can only be myself and if that’s not good enough i wish you luck tonite

i wish you happiness that you say you have not been able to ever find
i wish you that perfect lover who makes you feel like you’ve found the line
that leads you to your safest shores and happiness is all you ever feel
i wish you that perfect life even as i write this though i know that life’s not real

life is up and life is down and life is back and back around and then it’s gone
in between the start and end we work and play and find our favorite song
we bump heads with each other, we find happiness then leave it behind
anyway we look at it, we’re picking the angle that makes us feel everything is fine.

Our Paradox

We are flowers and we are weeds
and we are full of good and bad deeds
and we aspire and we set on fire
the things we grow and the things we eat

Never taunt us and never haunt us
we slip and slide in circles all day
we make the promise without the promise
of perfect natures in every way

None so loyal and none so false
as all of us with skin and bones
We create and kill with wreckless abandon
but ever wish for happy homes

We are monuments and we are trash
and all our gods shape shift and scream
for our hearts and for our heads
What is this eternal human dream?

For good, for bad, for more and more
of everything we just never find
Pulled ever faster, down the river
in the currents that rush with Time

We know it all and we know nothing
We're saints and sinners, all the same
A hope for good and bad exacted
having just one who we can blame

For never reaching higher or lower
beyond ourselves and those around
Like the weed and like the flower
reach for the sky and return to the ground

Love or Death - pick your disaster
pick your poison, whatever you wish
Call it Truth or call it Passion
you'll still be mortal in spite of it

We are not stars, we are not gods
nor are we devils with poking sticks
Still, we push away the things we want
then whimper for their loss and kiss

Trumped up these charges? No, I say
only look from the beginning to now
The scenery may change, but not the hearts
and we are all our Heaven will allow.

A Parting Gift

Think on me as mist if you must

there, but without shape or line
indistinguishable from the rest

Pass me by like passing time

dull seconds, a slow tick of the clock
praised in its passing

Or maybe I'm a weed under a rock

still growing, still living
underneath the pressing weight

Whatever it was you were giving

rationalizations, demands, fears too many
childhood angst and crossed arms

Just pretend you never did see me

because you didn't really, not at all
call me a black hole or the devil's servant

Accuse me of some final downfall

whatever allows you to relent and forget
your choices I never will wait on

I go through life with no regret.

Quoter, quote this...

If you listen very close you can hear the soft hiss on his tongue behind his many, many words
Words often quoted by those with a talent he can't understand he is in fact, absurd
Absurd in always feigning to be a victim of circumstances but it's just his wasted, broken youth
He will regale you with thoughts that are not his own and it will all sound like truth
But truth for him is a twisted vision where he is loved and adored in spite of his posturing
In spit of his desperate need to ape the motions of the aristocracy - it is pretension he's fostering

A life not lived, a love completely unknown to him but he will say "I know what Love is, I am Love, you are Love"
and underneath it all are truths he will not reveal at all and if you dare to bring it up
If you notice and point out the inconsistencies in his philosophies revealed by simple facts
That any child could understand as proof of his relentless lies - He will simply go on the attack
Still, he dreams of tuxedos and Bentley's and cocktail parties where he is grand, bigger than life
But if you feel no love for such things he will tell you oh yes he'll tell you "Of course, absolutely, you're right."

He will go to great lengths to masquerade as a priest, a spiritual man, a lover of truth
But what he will fail to include in his postulations is his dark desires for underage youth
Tied and bound and all there just for he and his lusts to exact his control over anyone
To influence you, to manipulate your faith, oh yes friend and all with a subtle hiss on his tongue
But alas! Of course! He will always pretend he has been victimized by you and you and you
If you dare to reject him, if in sudden enlightened moments the real truth begins to show through

That he's a liar, pure and simple, that he's a quoter of people who are dead and can't stop him
Oscar Wilde or Shakespeare or Churchill or Kipling it's an abortion of genius and talent
But he sounds so profound, so wise, and so deep so sincere, where's his halo?
But there's no halo nor any heart there just a clenched fist lurking underneath his tongue
Where the real nature of vulgarities spoken and real feeling revealed once you're done
Listening to his stories of every person who has ever torn at his trust, so very sad
But stop your pity, stay your need to believe in his belief - no, do not break loose the dam

For what pours out is not pure waters but polluted rages and cursing and mumblings
and critiques of your person and your habits and your life and that's his facade as it's crumbling
All the fancy words and quoted poems, all the deep thinking is an artiface, a concrete kite
Pull the veil back and you'll see that there's no beauty there just a lonely, aging man lit by TV light
Who tappity taps out messages of friendship and hope and just when he's got you dreaming
His only real hope he cannot ever escape, he cannot hide that you'll not notice his scheming

Then you'll say "Liar" and he'll say,"Victim" and you'll understand then there's few conclusions left
Either he believes his lies, ( an insanity ), or he knows he lies, ( a deciet ) - either way you're bereft
Of any further feelings of pity or understanding and certainly not hope that will burn at your feet
But that's a small price to pay so pay it as you close the door on him and don't try to compete
With that clouded mind full of quotations and meanings memorized to spew to you as bait
Under real scrutiny facts cannot change and interpretation is useless and he'll feel the weight
Of those things he can't explain away with empty rationalizations but still he will cling
To his story and his visions and his pontifications so grandiose ignoring the sting
Of having decieved you, often while wearing a ragged cloak of false humility to emphasize his soft side
But that's the rub, that's the joke, and it will all be on you freind if you ignore the twist of his lies.

The soft hiss, the many words, the truly talented ripped off by him using their words as a tool
Only hoping for that one glorious moment in time when he finds a tender heart to bend to his rule
For in his mind he's a king and do not doubt where he'll place you - at his feet if he's feeling nice
And you are there not as a human, and no, not an equal at all and next to him your heart will become as ice
So beware this seether, this serpent who comes as the kind friend but dear, he's no freind at all
It's your confusion, it's your wondering, it's your hope that he wants and boy does he have a ball
Convincing and cajoling and whispering so many sweet nothings hoping you'll fall for the spell
I've been there, I can tell you, you'd be far better off dear spending your life in a well.

Sorry Oscar, apologies to your talent, your genius, your art stolen like a cheap novel
Out of a pawn shop and repeated and polluted by the tongue of one who at your feet he can only grovel
For he doesn't understand your words in their context and he likely never will they are nothing more than components
to his own creaky musings and tacky invitations and twisted little visions all just beyond his apartment
In a cul-de-sac that harbors this rager, this coward, this posturing dolt who lives to decieve
If there were justice then your spirit would be potent enough to rise and clobber that thin souled thief
But there's no justice so your genius is quoted by ones such as him who hope to impress
The people who do no more than come to him as freinds and then turn their backs in distress.

But while you linger in history forever exalted as well you should be; his own reputation is nothing but brass
That turns green over time and rightly left behind like a flea market tea set or cheap knock-off glass
While your talent and intellect are proofs in their own right and your work stands through the test of time
Folks like him will pass unnoticed, having left no such gift to us all no monument at all, just a lie
No one will quote him, no one will aspire to his talents, no one will try to understand where he came from
Which is why, after all, he can only quote others and it's why, after all, coming from him it sounds so incredibly dumb
What a horrible hypocrisy on his part to feign some sincere insight and understanding of artists so beyond his reach
And if you listen hard enough, though it might take a bit of work, you can hear that subtle hiss in his speech.

So Quoter, go ahead and quote this:
You're no wise man, you're a serpent and we both know it because I've not only heard that hiss
I've seen your fangs with my own two eyes and you're only demerit is
in the fact you're alone, to the bone, and it's a fate you should own kid
as the work of your own hands, your own words, and your own plans
of course distance doesn't bother you, it allows you to hide your sinister side, man,
you're no victim, you're no innocent soul lost, you're no product of another
pull the wool off your own eyes, it's your own fingerprints on the cover
that cloaks you and your life,
no other
just you, you and your life.

Brute Force for Brutus

That was cute boy what a joy you must feel
in reaching out and cutting and stomping your heel
once again on trust, once again stepping into
a place that is not and never will be meant for you.

This is my place but I must ask how long it took
for you to achieve that particular look
that lets you say,"Mirror, mirror on the wall
I think I'm the slickest guy of all."?

So you storm my gate and you curse the closed door
but what are you really looking for?
Was that assault across a digital divide
supposed to give you credibility in my eyes?

You've got to be kidding with the rationalizations
of your somewhat twisted motivations
So let me use brute force to make things clear
You are in no way welcome here.

Would it stroke your ego to see me spend time
sending cuffs for you and your crime?
Forget it, I won't bother, I have moved on
away from your muted versions of right and wrong.

I don't need your heel again, I've seen it already
I don't need you to prove to me you think you're steady
when this latest act of yours proves just one thing:
you have nothing to offer except suffering.

strut prince, strut

what?

that’s not your contrived posture?
that’s not you?

why deny what you have
spent your whole life building?

what?

that’s not your house of cards?
that’s not you?

your strut is all you can’t deny.

"Your Every Intention"

quiet those thoughts roiling around in your skull
toil and toll, you toil and then you pay the toll
for tilling a soul that you buried inside
the broken heart of a very young boy
and you can wish for it to come back and you can
play it all out inside the sweat of your grasp
that clings to an image of yourself back then
but it’s gone and that’s it

dreams of a world where you really belong
where you’re still handsome and never wrong
you’re lieing to yourself
you’re only fading
parading around in a limited world
but limitless is a word that you’ve curled
around the tip of your crooked tongue
still it all comes undone

one last roll of some loaded dice
one last chance to pretend that you’re nice
and maybe someone will fund your dreams
till they notice how bad you’ve torn at the seams
and they’ll see beyond the shine and the glare
and they’ll see beyond your hollow stare
and just when you think you’re right on the verge
they’ll leave you alone again

you cannot endure the still quiet of your room
you’re long since past noticing the glow of the moon
it’s just memories of your long gone years
your own fingerprints are all over your fears
poor boy gone, and old man rushing towards you
cursing aloud for your ignoring a present truth
a middle aged you in a disaffected now
is really no different than the boy disavowed.

I'm going down a hill with my log in my lap
and realize I've no map
to navigate your soul
And I slip in between the light
and the dark of the night
away we go

You call my mother to complain
but she's out in the rain
with a prayer in her hand
and a curse on her lips I know
jus one more final blow
and I understand
But I
can't think anymore
I can't drink your soul anymore
I can't think alone

I'm floating on a dark midnight sea
with these thoughts of you and me
in my head and the waves
crash over my eyes while
I stare at the stars and smile
and say your name

Oh unbearable road that I've broken
Oh my words such an empty token
so I send my heart over wind
and follow your lead once again

But I
can't think anymore you know
I don't drink anymore and so
I can't think
I can't think of you anymore

Did your soul dry at just the right time
to leave a bare spot for me and my
words that go where?
I am here when you want to be here
think of me as you comb your hair
You're here and I'm there, I'm there
But I
can't think anymore you know the undertow
is too heavy a pull to bear just to be alone
and since I don't drink anymore
It's just me and my pacing the floor
But I
don't think anymore
I can't think.