Pictures of dead people I know
are smiling and are so full of life
hanging on my wall
reminding me
to seize this day,
because it's not cliche,
and it won't come again.

As beautiful as the famed city of Atlantis
Gloriously flourishing in her perfection
There is a place where my soul and heart is
A perfect place without grief or deception

Where my heart is always merry
And peace blossoms like the cherry
The sun smiles at me gently caressing
My body as the birds sing melodies-
So beautiful they keep me guessing-
The beauty of future melodic memories

Like the Cedars of Lebanon
Beautifying the palaces of Ethiopia
Purity, love and perfection adorn her every season.
This place is within me; this place is Utopia

-

With merely words
strung together in hurtful fashion,
he formed a noose
tightly around her neck

She gasped for air
as evil eyes watched,
happily from twin shadows
cast by her broken heart

Thrashing legs and
pleading expressions
in the heat of this day
curved a wicked smile upon his face

Tears burned lines on her cheeks
as she desperately searched
for a way out, she was losing hope,
just about to give up

When she managed with her final ounce of energy
to reach the keyboard and hit delete,
removing his email and him forever…
Once again she could breathe

(co-written by Sharon Robinson)
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
And everybody knows that it's now or never
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows
And everybody knows that the Plague is coming
Everybody knows that it's moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But there's gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows
And everybody knows that you're in trouble
Everybody knows what you've been through
From the ****** cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it's coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

I find the quiet scratch of pen on paper to be soothing.
My thoughts flow more easily from my pen than they do my mouth.
It is impossible to articulate emotions into words.
How can you describe the indescribable?
There is a need there, a desperate hunger.
Not to keep you in my life, but to make you happy.

Whatever the cost.

You are one ment for greatness.
People like you need the chance to change the world.

And you will.

Of this there is no doubt in my mind.
People like you give people like me someone to look up to.
A standard for which I am constantly striving.

And maybe one day we will sit down across from each other and smile.
For we will both have accomplished so much.

Maybe one day you can be happy again.
Maybe one day I will stop hurting.

Why not today?

Why not now?

The future is terrifying and it is most certainly not set.
But one day at a time, we can handle it.
We can only live in the moment we have right now.

Let's love it.

Cherish it.

And make it the greatest moment of our lives.

Then maybe one day,

We can be whole again.

I think we, as artists in every form of the word, take in the world on more than a black and white level as some may. In a way that we are integrated and living treacherously on a tightrope, artists feel like they need to take on the world in senses beyond their control, and their pain is exerted into their work. There is a purpose in our suffering, but our capacity to handle our lives outwardly is slim. To take the time to understand an artist would be talking to a preacher to why he loves God. There is so much backstory to take us to our points, and to know that artists cannot find closure in the things they can see with our eyes wide open, but rather, with our eyes closed and brought forth into taking the world, maybe not our own, on our shoulders, and breaking free in an exertion of prismatic findings in pain.
c.a.

Wish you'd mean what you say
You'd often leave me lost

            inside.


Putrid are the remains of coerced thought
Some of our intentions are lost in diglossic exchange.