As the sun peeks over the edge of night he slowly opens his eyes and wakes not with an eagerness of spirit He grows weary of battle For this love and hate of himself is always at war and if there is any lacking in his resolve victory for love will be hard-won if won at all Fatigue will plague his every moment until the darkness grants his leave It is then he can close his eyes to sleep once more
Stuck in patterns that are damning to repeat because vows to do better don’t last How does one be who one wants to be without healing from an imperfect past?
It feels I've been awake since forever Lying here bartering for my share of some sleep I don't know when I'll be dreaming again or how many the Sandman will take of my sheep
Back to dreamland Again I fell Now I feel Like ******* Why did I Not stay awake And face the day For my own sake Now I can’t Lift my head Or peel myself Off this bed I must stop This sleep and slumber Or my room Will fill with lumber!
Here lately the Sandman mocks me with his calls to sleep that are nothing more than brutal sarcasm To report to my bed at night is the highest level of futility Even the sheep are laughing I’m here all week
He no longer sits in the park until after dark looking for blue birds perched on a lily white shoulder For the hope of the chance at such surreal romance Fell broken as the wind in the park grew colder
Along with creating our own personal philosophical views of life comes the distinct possibility that we will become disillusioned by them Because, if we had some answers, we wouldn’t have so many **** questions
There are times I don't dance I but hobble to the words of old songs that seem all out of tune It's when I could ban the pen from my hand Stand alone in the darkness and just howl at the moon
He walked the hill into the evening until he reached the top The moon was serenading him so he took the time to stop to look upon a lonesome tree that had not been there before Neath the light of a starry night like the painting he so adored He whispered a tiny heartfelt prayer for those in town below that had likely lived their lives never having seen the show
To feel the ache of suffering is to to look no further than the space between the lines It is where the godless echoes live and they try to convince us that faith will not get us through this long, arduous trip from home
When that big dark cloud floats above your head standing like a vulture over unclaimed dead When it casts it's long shadow And troubles your sky Insist that it move to let the sun by
Sometimes I feel the Reaper Winking at me He wants to come over For a chat and some tea He’ll tell me that I am nothing But an echo from the past My future behind me That I’m fading fast He’ll score some very clever points To weaken my resolve Then sincerely assure me There’s no problem he can’t solve But like my neighbor’s crazy dog Who barks up an empty tree He and I Won’t see eye to eye And he may not enjoy his tea
Silly hearts ****** toons and goofballs make light of all that is heavy for us and won't leave a bucket of tears without a barrel full of laughs for balance
As I step through a small patch of woods this fine morning I feel the cold breath of Winter on my neck I catch a glimpse of a rabbit's white tail bobbing in and out of my sight It's Thanksgiving and this moment of near silence is not lost on me As I head back I pretend to be a woodsman following the last of Autumn's long shadows to a warm house that will soon fill of family and friends and I am grateful for it
Geez Louise I’ve been brought to my knees Gripped by some evil besieged by fried cheese Enduring the upset as best as I can If only the stuff had stayed stuck in the pan!
It happens every Thanksgiving day Because I do not think ahead I do not think about the pie Until I 've eaten too much bread I do not think about the bread 'til I've eaten too much dressing And I'm usually on my second plate Before I've heard the blessing
Every afternoon from the window of an abandoned building a young boy plays a weathered guitar his voice is sweet and enchanting his message is one of love and hope all that hear him are swept away in a flood of euphoria and bliss eventually he stops and disappears all color drains from the street there is no sound the people go back to sleep dreaming in a silent movie that is their lives
Such simplicity yet magnanimous in its undertaking One marvels at the whole of it in awe of the glorious painstaking detail Colors calm and easy leaving no part of it's aura unappeasing It's nature so sincere and moving the stricken feel the need to bow
Handpicked from of the street they sat at his dinner table stuffing themselves with free food and drink laughing at all his stories while he made his notes Later, he would sketch exaggerations of his uglier observations People were unmasked and revealed for what they were Fine profiles of the grotesque in the ever growing catalogue raisonne.
Never one to hold his tongue the devil child within me transforms the light breeze of peace into a tempest of chaos blowing storms over my sea of tranquility I need to give him a warm loving embrace of understanding but all I want to do is slap the brat’s face
Tiny blue ballerina Dancing in a storm Chaos all about her As she tries to hold her form The dreary sets seem out of place And the music isn't right The cellos have been fighting With flutes all blasted night Remember tiny dancer You are following your bliss So, take that ever graceful bow And blow the audience a kiss
Tiny blue ballerina Dancing in a storm Chaos all about her As she tries to hold her form The dreary sets seem out of place And the music isn't right The cellos have been fighting With the flutes throughout the night Remember tiny dancer You are following your bliss So, take that ever graceful bow And blow the audience a kiss
The silence of the woods quieted the noise in his soul As he walked the sacred trail he felt the spirit of the wind rustle through him as if he were high in the trees He bathed in the cool water at the base of the silver falls and prayed that his body be cleansed of his ***** life and that he be given the strength to cope with the stress of adversity For to conquer that is to conquer the temptation to soil oneself with sin
“I have to look for your father” We’d hear our poor mother say When he had little fear Standing on the great pier During a storm on the bay
When father had the Black Irish We’d hear our poor mother pray "God, keep him off the **** pier" When bad weather is near So the sea can’t wash him away
“I have to look for your father” we’d hear our poor mother say for he had little fear standing on the great pier during a storm on the bay
When father had the Black Irish we’d hear hear our poor mother pray “Keep him off that **** pier” when bad weather was near so the sea couldn’t wash him away
Three yellow birds have died in a cage Canaries in the coal mine kept miners from their wage “Got to get down there I’ve got a family to feed That’s more important to me than the air that I need I don’t care about the danger It’s too late for me In another year I won’t be around to see more birds dying on account of me Just open up the mine and let me be”
Fear and Rage Brother to brother Whenever they awaken One says to the other What kind of suffering can we cause today? That’s when one hears the other one say I just love the smell of ****** in the morning
Blessed are the butterflies that brighten ugly walls They bring a little sunshine to where there’s none at all The flutter of their spacious wings chase the clouds away that prey upon the innocence of an unsuspecting day
I make faces At my cat And she doesn’t know What to think of that I stick out my tongue And wave my hands And I don’t think She understands I do a little dance And sing a song But, she’s too stubborn To play along She just winks at me And turns her head I think I’ll try The dog instead
Frozen there by a tundra stare No one really truly cares what his reasons for this careless wandering All are not hospitable for they are but miserable in the throes of squandering
Thou shall not **** until enemies prove worthy the satisfaction of our revenge May we be ever watchful of all who would stain our honor so as to punish with prejudice And in the aftermath of such exactment ignore that tiny place in our hearts that carries the forgiveness of Jesus so that we be not ashamed
Careful now make not a mistake It’s only your hide the skinner wants to take Ready to pounce it won’t think twice to be all over you like white on rice
Crows in a wheat field Just before a storm Bearing dark omens Of the future yet to come They came to me in mourning Inside my dreams at night Before too long Pop took ill And chased God into the light Crows in a wheat field Soaking in the rain Waiting for my head to nod And for me to sleep again
Thou shall not **** Until enemies prove worthy The satisfaction of our lustful revenge May we be ever watchful Of all who would stain our honor So as to punish with impunity And in the aftermath of such exactment Recall that tiny place in the heart That carries the forgiveness of Jesus And be then ashamed
This simple act has become a pact I have with the kitchen floor I sweep it several times a day because it’s keeping score It knows when I sweep it often It knows when I sweep it not And when it feels neglected it gets slippery in spots I have many other things to do than Tango with the broom but, my floor would rather see us dance all across the room