Oh sleepless night why come tonight?
Curiosity lead me astray
Now sleepless night show me thine telescopic sight
Oh sleepless night why torment me?
Thou came at a strange time in life
Sensuality cover of my sanity
Oh sleepless night why hinder rest?
Youthful travels delay gateways
Yesterdays, break of day, spiritual decay
Oh sleepless night how do you rest?
Time passes yet you do not lay down
Sleepless night show thine sunday best among the rest
Thine heart shalt rest no more,
Find eternal peace by the shore.
Our bodies share the same age,
Not separated by much months, yet
I believe I have yet to find the gold
That runs through your veins,
Or the bright youth that lines your soul.
Can you help me find the rose-tinted glasses
You see the world through?
Will you tell me how I can radiate with the sun's blessings
As you do?
We have been surviving the same bullets,
But by ourselves.
Yet, somehow your wounds seem to heal faster.
I watch you get up and go while I still tend to my own.
Oftentimes I have to reach far to keep up with you.
Despite the unkindness of circumstance and proximity,
Somehow I feel that I have held your hand through it all.
And sometimes, in the small moments of reality
That peek through the stage lights and camera flashes,
I feel you hold back.
And in that moment, we are just seventeen year olds again.
Just that, nothing more.
Can I be eighteen with you too?
Now that all my worst fears,
Have been confirmed,
The conspiracy shows I disavowed,
Were all true,
Who knows what will happen?
I began thinking about my youth,
Near the polluted stream in the park,
Down in the ravine,
Away from the soccer fields,
If you will.
Whatever that means.
so many things,
So much life lived in zest!
69ing with my high school girlfriend,
In a house she was watching,
Staring the creator in the face,
To know you're alive.
Or camping out in zero degree weather,
With Old Steve,
Freezing my ass off,
Despite the "rated to 25 degree" sleeping bag.
Watching my old dog,
Who listened to jazz,
Wheeze and huff her last breaths,
In my arms.
Kissing an old friend,
Before getting out of the car,
And leaving her alone,
To face the Mile High City.
These were all my things,
And mine alone.
I don't need them anymore.
I'll begin my nostalgia once again,
And find the golden age,
Where it was all along,
In my mind,
And through this song.
When youth comes crawling to me
On it's hands and knees
Tears in its eyes
"Make the pain go away, help me, please."
I simply smile
And kiss it's damp cheek
Then laugh a little laugh
For youth is always weak
You can call me hurtful
You can call me mean
But I crouch down and say to youth
"Don't worry, everyone wants to die when they're seventeen."
The Suicide Diaries
Lawn darts and pop tarts
and I'm still here
Skateboard ramps and Boy Scout camps
there's danger everywhere
Bicycle races and bloody faces
fist fights in the yard
Swimming pool slides and high dives
look out "cannon ball"!!
water hoses and busted noses
everyone survived --
Kids today think they have it made
memories are all inside.
Running barefoot through the pasture
feeling the fescue between my toes.
Ten years old, maybe a little more,
no worries, no cares, just a few chores.
It's summer in the mountains.
We catch crappie and smallmouth
with grubs from a rotten log.
The Cumberland River is wild,
an endless treasure of adventure.
Trout rule the streams that feed the rapids,
impossible for you, but we know their secrets.
Dusk is falling.
I can hear my mother calling
Slouched atop the bookshelf resting his fluffy head
against much loved Rudyard Kipling's finest.
He watched the day to day stories of King Anthony
'The child ruler of the world' and his beloved younger sister Anya.
Avoiding arguments downstairs in the dying segments of daylight,
the boy's reassurance to Anya showcased rare moments of humanity
not seen by Little Weissel's beaded eyes since being rediscovered
from the trunk he escaped in from Occupied Holland.
Amongst his stuffing was still memories of his first best friend,
in which many a day was spent quietly hiding away,
listening to the sound of boots roaming around the house.
King Anthony reached his hand out in full view of the aged bear's face
and plucked him from his perch.
As warm as the bear felt to him, he felt to this plush relic, whose eyes
would dilate in the melt of such moment if only they could.
From his arms passing down to her trembling ones;
she was looking for solace in the wake of mother and father's quaking
voices in the kitchen.
For Little Weissel it seemed like 'what was old is new again'
and now after spells after neglect he was experiencing a second
lease of life.
As the war downstairs fizzled out into quiet evening, King Anthony and Anya were locked together, both tenants of sleep with
Little Weissel just as lovingly clung to as the first moment he'd been clutched.
Maybe in the new harsh terrain, the scabby mass of the little bear
could once again feel the need to be needed as any good plaything deserves to be.