You are my
December because you seem to
     emanate a golden glow,
          quite like of parols swinging from tall streetlamps
December in how you
     brush through my hair like a cool, gentle breeze
          brought by the northeast wind of
               clear blue skies and fair weather.
December also in the way you
     wrap your arms around me
          tightly, it
               reminds me of my favorite warm, woolly sweater that
                    my dear grandma knitted for me.
        You are my
December in how you
     light up my eyes like
          the Christmas lights that twinkle on the Christmas tree
No, actually, more like the
     fireworks that set fire to
          the midnight sky on New Year's Eve
December because
     you are a great gift
          like the secret surprises tucked under the Christmas tree
     you are a sweet treat
          like a gingerbread coated with colorful sugar,
               freshly baked and toasty
     you refresh me
          like the much needed break that lasts for two weeks
    You are my
December because
     you leave me melting
          like the mini mallows sprinkled  
               on my hot choco steaming
     You are my
December because

  
I love December

Her mind is troubled and her thoughts are blurred
nights of endless crying
nights of despair
nights when life didn't seem worth living

You could never tell that beneath her "put-togetherness"
was a girl
who couldn't be in further disarray

She questions love and all that it means
her self worth hasn't been quantified
and the concept of love is foreign yet it lays beneath the fingertips
that type away at the one
who brings her the utmost happiness

Here is a girl that is broken
here is a girl that wants to believe that one day
things will be better

but life is unfair
and she has yet to have a moment of clarity
the moment of clarity that facilitates a purpose
and things are weary and unclear
so she keeps asking her self
"why?"

Here is a girl
who is the epitome of empathy
and the center of love

however, she has yet to receive
any sense of reciprocity
and until the reciprocity exists,
the world will remain to be nothing but an empty plane

Here is a girl
that has fallen to pieces
only to bring herself back together
again
and again
and again

Here is a girl
who has creativity at her fingertips,
but she needs more love, so that her creativity
can become the magic that it has always meant to be

Here is a girl
that has loved herself
and hated herself
and has endured more suffering than anything imaginable

Here is a girl
that represents suffering
that represents strength
that represents
a reason for tomorrow

1
This world is not for me.
Society and all of its greed
And pride and fears and lies,
But I see - the Fields of green.

I see the forest beyond culture's smog.
I see rivers and meadows and in them I see God,
Not society's idols corrupting my mind,
But beauty in nature, for people I have no time

2
I don't hate man, I just hate men.
I reject the crowd, receive the critics
And then, when I can, I plan
To change their lives, to change their stance.
Their pre-contemplating outlook of meta-physical well-being will be
Their posthumous regret when the trumpets sound early.
They cannot possibly want to die this surely.

So why wait, why bother, why help those who ridicule the very foundation of existence?
For better or worse, I ask myself this
And demand an answer; demand a reply.
But to answer myself this would just be a lie,
Because in the end I just can't see myself here.
Down in the underbelly while God's world is out there.
Man was meant to live and love and learn and laugh and lavish in the dirt;
YES! The wondrous Earthen soil that brings life to this otherwise wasteland of a planet!
Do I sound crazy? Fine then. I'll can-it...
But let me leave you with this.

3**
While you squander your existence, I'm flying with J.L. Seagull.
While you sit on society's thrown, you'll never reach my level of regal,
For I am king of myself, I relish in happiness
I **** the marrow out of life and think not of shame or pride or possession or power
And therefore I must leave.
I wish you all the best of luck and hope some of you learn,
That you are just playing your fiddle and watching Rome burn.

I don't know what I'm doing.
Your hands on me
Don't feel like fire
Or ice.
They feel like hands.
Your wanderings don't make me gasp
But they can make me sigh.
I wonder what she'd think if she knew.
I wonder if she'd care.
I don't tell her
In fear that she won't.
Your lips don't send lightning down my spine,
Or earthquakes through my stomach
But... they are warm
And I am lonely
And you said it was a game you played often.
All the same, I saw your eyes
I felt your fingertips-
They betrayed you,
And when I wrote you back "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
I wanted to add
"P.S. Don't love me."

The road stretched out before me
Leading me away from where
I'd spent time spinning all around
It was time to ride from there
The truck it stopped and picked me up
We didn't talk at all
We'd gone 300 miles
Then he said, ok bud....there that's all

I walked down from the hilltop highway
Into somewhere new
I didn't read the sign on entry
This place was somewhere new
I bummed around the country side
Working jobs and playing bars
Getting rides from country truckers
And from college kids in cars

I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here
I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here

I stopped into a diner for a coffee and a meal
The waitress looked me over
Like I was her next meal
She brought the coffee over
Said "you've not been here before"
I told her "I'm not staying"
and what I was looking for

All I owned in the whole world was in my pack
Two pair of jeans, some t shirts,
And my guitar, painted black
She said "son, can you play that?"
"If you can, the meals on me"
I took her on her offer
I love food when it is free

She said, my momma loved the songs
the ones that tell a tale of woe
I tuned up, started strumming
And said, well "here we go"
I sang of Frisco Mabel Joy and crying in my beer
I looked at her, her eyes were closed
But, I knew...were full of tears

I played Lefty and Poncho, songs of love and loss
I sang of travelling the country side
I sang of Christ upon the cross
She wiped her eyes, and looked at me
Real deep, you know the way
When the tone is gonna change some
And there's something important for to say

"If you want to linger here....there's a room out in the back"
"The rent is cheap, the food is free"
"Just play your guitar painted black"
She offered me a leg up
It's been a while since
I thought about a future
I felt kinda like a prince

She said, "no one here plays anything at all"
"They make the words up as they go"
"And they always play too loud"
"You can play here if you want to"
"Mostly requests, and some new stuff"
"You can even sing the songs you write"
"When you think you've had enough"

"Tip jar money also, that's all yours for when you play"
"take notice though, there's not much here"
"To do through out the day"
Again, she looked me over
I'll tell you how it made me feel
Like I'd been cornered by a cougar
And I was her next meal

I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here
I was heading no place special
And as I look around
I think I'm here




I went on stage that night to start
Singing songs and rambling
I knew most of the ones they asked
On the others I was gambling
I mumbled through and had them sing
So I could learn the words
And as for what I didn't know
Well, I do not think they heard

Made forty bucks in tips first night
I think I'll gonna stay
You know "Piano Man" on the guitar
ain't bad tenth time you play
I sang of seeing doctors and of trucks and vintage cars
Of Redneck Family Reunions
And of looking at the stars

I started out for no place special
Now, I've find it I might stay
For the folks in no place special
All kind of roll my way
I started out for no place special
Yes, I know I'm gonna stay
For the folks in no place special
All kind of roll my way