Please don't get upset
when I tell you I've been drinking.
It's the only thing to do
that'll keep my mind from thinking
of the day we split apart
just as the sun had started sinking.
But I think I see it coming up, yet.

And please don't ask me how
I let the passion pass away
when you were always the only one
who could brighten up my day.
These kinds of questions have no answers.
Ain't there something else to say?
Just say it to me, here and now.

I know you think about me
when you lie awake in bed.
But you've got too much pride to call,
you just go to sleep instead.
And that's why when I see you now
it's lightly I must tread.
My whole wide world is hanging by a thread.

I got a hole in my pocket,
hole in my heart,
hole in the wall, man.
I'm falling apart.
They say that a woman
can ruin a man,
but he can ruin himself
fast as she can.

My head's been pounding,
my head's hung low,
my head's in the grinder.
It's all I know.
She's miles away,
but she's turning the wheel.
I'd write her a letter,
but she knows how I feel.

This other one calls me.
This other one shoves me.
Another one hates me
much as another one loves me.
But I won't have it,
need to love myself.
Take all these old pictures
off of my shelf,

Forget about women,
forget about money,
forget about love
eat my bread with some honey.
She might give me bad dreams,
but I believe I'll be fine.
Told her, "I'll be in your dream
if you'll be in mine."

If your spirit must one day clear,
and our lives at once must cease,
if that sweet smile must leave your face,
and time must claim its lease,
then, Allison, let's not a moment waste,
let's pick the fruit and savor the taste.

And if the hour should ever come
when the two of us must part,
or phantom fiends creep from the dark,
their daggers aimed at our hearts,
then, Allison, don't be afraid,
for our love's hand is always stayed.

When
she drove away
(her freedom, at last)
I let out a sigh.

Her
angry displays -
(it all happened so fast) -
my heart was defied.

I sat on the edge of our bed
and I hummed a soft tune.
I woke myself up on the floor
where our pictures were strewn.

She
must be alright
(she hasn't called yet).
I'm living alone.

And me?
I'm doing fine
(but it's hard to forget
that this bird has flown).

I've spent so much time
thinking of you
that I don't know who
I really am now.
I've spent all this time
promising
that I'll change, but
I dont know if I can now.

Everything is happening
in cycles.
One minute were laughing,
and next we cry.
And all I've had with me
to see me through
are friends who sport
a hungry eye.

No wonder you don't see that change is going on inside of me.
No wonder you don't feel loved.
How could I when you're killing me?

Do you remember how it felt
to be in love with the world?
The simple touch of summer wind,
the voices of the girls
who came
running from the grade school
the moment they heard the bell,
full of life and energy
and rumors they could tell.

Do you recall the writing
that you read on the wall?
You knew that things were changing
as you ran down the hall,
but you
looked back for the last time
and gathered all your thoughts.
Scared to solve the puzzle,
to connect all of the dots.

Did you ever learn a thing then,
or just unlearn all you knew -
how to love a stranger,
or the innocence in you?
Did you
ever find the meaning
in William Blake's "The Lamb?"
We all must face the Lion,
lose, and join the ******.

And did you learn a lesson, child?
Did you face your fears?
Did nature run its brutal course?
And did you shed a tear?
I too have felt the Lion's teeth.
I too have felt his bite.
But never did I stop looking back.
And this is how we fight.

Well, I hopped off the ship
and fell face first
in a pile of ****.
Thought nothing's worse.
Saw a man go by
pullin' a hearse,
then I remembered
this single verse:

Oh, it'll get better now.
Say oh, it'll get better.
Don't let the wind
ruffle those feathers.
Just when it rains,
pray for some good weather
and oh, it'll get better.

When I rose again,
I fell into
a mess of chains
and heavy, too.
I asked the Lord
what can I do.
He told me Child
this one's for you:

Oh, it'll get better now.
Say oh, it'll get better.
Don't let the wind
ruffle those feathers.
Just when it rains,
pray for some good weather
and oh, it'll get better.

I managed to
shake off the weight.
Resolved I could
determine my fate.
Went lookin' for a boat
to take me back,
but the docks were bare and
I had a heart attack.

So I sit right on
the edge of this land
where the anchors drop
and the ships did land,
sing this song
to whoever I can,
stomp my feet
and clap my hands, it goes:

Oh, it'll get better now.
Say oh, it'll get better.
Don't let the wind
ruffle those feathers.
Just when it rains,
pray for some good weather
and oh, it'll get better.

Well, tell your brothers,
     your sisters and misters
they dont need to
     hang around my door.
My hands and feet
     are covered with blisters -
just a product of our
     little war.

     And next time you
have half a mind
     to set fire to my
Cadillac,
     just remember that
kinda behavior
     is never gonna
bring me back.
     Know that.

Yes, I believe I received
     your last message,
but I didn't care to
     hear it through.
It's just my mind
     was preoccupied
with finding ways
     to rid myself of you.

Don't get me wrong,
     we sure had our fun,
but it was much too much
     to make it last.
Now my windows and
     doors are all locked,
I only open 'em to scream
     when you drive past.

Taking it slow, now.
No sudden movements or I
might come to love you.

Dangle it before my eyes.
Hypnotize this eager boy.
Beauty is your best disguise;
the lovely gal from Illinois.

Nobody likes you when you're
down and out.
They'd rather see you smile.
Nobody talks to me when I'm
feelin' blue,
but baby, happy's goin' out of style.

I see the sun is grinnin'
in my face.
People just pass me by.
Nobody there to give
the time of day.
So tell me, why do I even try?

The phone is ringin', but it
ain't for me.
My doorbell must be broke.
Am I this lonely when
it comes down to it,
or is this just one big joke?

Nobody likes you when you're
down and out.
They'd rather see you smile.
Nobody talks to me when I'm
feelin' blue,
but baby, happy's goin' out of style.

I shut the windows and turn
off the light,
crawl into my bed.
I guess that I could call this
girl I know,
but she'd prob'ly rather sleep instead.

And in the mornin' pour
myself a cup.
Talkin' to the wall.
I think I'll curl up
beside my cat, read a book and
have myself a ball, 'cause

Nobody likes you when you're
down and out.
They'd rather see you smile.
Nobody talks to me when I'm
feelin' blue,
but baby, happy's goin' out of style.

Said, Nobody likes you when you're
down and out.
They'd rather see you smile.
Nobody talks to me when I'm
feelin' blue,
but baby, happy's goin' out of style.

I remember you well,
your crooked spine,
and heart of a widow
that’s turned so black.

What’s made you bitter?
I wonder, now.
You look back on years, but
you can’t go back.

Have you forgotten
my face by now,
even as I walk by you
in a roaring crowd?

Does it ever occur that
you could be wrong?
For me, the guilt I have,
it screams so loud.

There’re two kinds of people:
one kind forgives.
But that isn’t you, no,
and you don’t forget.

As I lean over to whisper,
“you’ve dropped your crown,”
your look is so telling -
you remember, yet.

I remember when we were children
my sister and I used to go outside
and pretend we were stranded
in the wilderness
and had to survive until we were rescued.
On one particular day in winter
we went out and built a shelter
out of sticks and small branches
and we got inside and waited.
We imagined that there were
wolves outside that wanted to
eat us alive,
but we fended them off with our
sticks and stones and snowballs.
Now we are both in our mid-twenties
and, ironically, we still play this game,
and there are still wolves outside
who want to eat us alive.
We are still waiting to be saved.

All sinners are born here,
and it's where the good come to die.
Somehow I've made a life here,
and I left another one behind.
Yeah, I left a better one behind.

You told me to pack it up,
and I kicked the dust and went away.
Seems weird just being here
while you're so far away.
Yeah, you're so **** far away.

The things that you say to me
are getting harder to hear each day.
But I must say I'm lonely,
and I'd love if you'd come to stay.
So why dont you come and stay?

I forgot that you hate me now,
so what's a person like me to do?
And I forgot how hard it is
to love someone who don't love you.
I love someone and that someone's you.

All sinners are born here,
and it's where the good come to die.
Somehow I've made a life here,
and I left another one behind.
Yeah, I left a better one behind.

Old friends, dead friends,
all lined up like porcelain dolls,
smiling behind ***** glass.
I wrap them in paper and lament.

You might call me pathetic
     when I beg you to stay,
or when I cry after hearing
     that you've fallen out of love.
I would say I'm simply a romantic
     with inclinations toward      heartbreak.
     I would say that that is my definition of love.
     If that's the case, then I guess
I can't blame you for
     falling out of it.

You laughed at me and
called me names from the bed.
I held my head in my hands and
lamented each step that
brought me to your door.

In the morning, we kissed and
dressed together and
never acknowledged the
look in each other's eye.
You stuck out your tongue
in good humor while
this poem was dancing on mine.

With your voice like bells
and your eyes like Mars,
in your purple coat
and your gown of stars,
would you ever lower
the window of your car
and point me to
your door?

In a breeze you fluttered,
like a feather in a storm,
into my weary mind
in such flawless form
and you raised your banner
around which I conform.
But you didn't even know me,
did you?

contradictions
are what make
us human

I woke up on a Monday,
met her on a Tuesday,
we married on a Wednesday,
crossed it off the list.

Honeymoon on Thursday,
I got drunk on Friday,
she screamed at me on Saturday
and kissed me with a fist.

Sunday morning rolled around
and I thought I heard the sound
of footsteps on the floor:
she was walking out the door.

I thought I could be eternal,
like air or sound or memory,
that I would be a ghost
in your attic forever.
I thought you would keep me,
or be kept by me,
find joy in my movements,
love in my breath.
But you moved away,
suddenly without word or gesture,
left me standing on the floor
in your house, now mine.
You took my place and I yours.
This was supposed to be simple, clean.
And so you became air,
sound, memory, nothing at all.
Eternal.

You might look at me and think,
"Who have you now become?"
And you might talk to me and wonder
what lies are rolling off my tongue
You could see me in a year
and not believe how much I've grown.
But to you, I'll always be
the same one you've always known.

Even when your eyes are shut,
you know the feeling that I bring.
Familiar like a mother's touch,
or the notes morning birds sing.
And even though the words may change,
it's the same soft humble tone
that swells into a melody -
the one you've always known.

I know sometimes you must expect
a change in me for good.
And even though I fight it then,
deep down I know I should.
But understand, I'm just afraid
I'll break the threads we've sewn.
I cling to you, hold on to me,
the boy you've always known.

Fat *****, fat *****,
as far as the American
eye can see,
fondling over the fudge
and the cheese in aisle 3.
Gobbling up the sugar
like a crazy chimpanzee
who gambled away his nanners
and now all he's got's black tea.

Biting my fingers
Watching the wall until the paint lifts
Legs twitch
Bass drum pulse in my ears
Smoke clears (now they see me)
Eyes red
Head floating in a cloud of worry
Hurry to lock the door
I’ve been here before
You live here
You lived here
Eight o’clock comes
I was supposed to meet someone
Hate written on the mirror
Eyes in pairs move past the window
Do they know?
Nine o’clock comes
Plans canceled
Deaf to silence
Television, yes
Sit down
Eat popcorn
Laughing while I witness
The death of my
Dreams

For nothing now can ever
come to any good -
Words I lifted off the page,
popped in my mouth and
swished around til it all
made sense to me.

That line, by itself,
hanging at the end of
the stanza, now hanging
off the tip of my twisted tongue.
It touched me somehow, someplace,
by way of some terrible twist of fate.

W.H. Auden, it is
the end of autumn and I
ask you how you handle death.
For, though I write, a poem
does not suffice. Not me.
I am, by these falling leaves,
reminded of their faces and
when they touch the ground
I look down and weep.

You're a caricature,
an exaggeration.
Yet, you fill the page
most irritably.
You cartoon-colored
cardboard cutout,
don't take yourself
so seriously.

Rise with the sun.
Shake dreams from your head,
my sweet one.
Breathe deeply,
taste the possibilities.
Speak with the angels
as if you were one.

I've been staring too long
at the setting sun
remembering where I've been.
I've been pricing a home
where I can live alone
and start over again.
But if a man can change
his foolish ways
(and I know I can),
will you keep me around
and help us get back
to where we began?

I'll forget my anger,
my worries, too,
I'll forget my shame -
I'll forget it all
if you will promise
to do the same.
I know sometimes
you wish you could
just forget my name.
But please take my hand
and follow me back
down the road we came.

The way I see it,
we can both give in
and call it a day.
And who knows, maybe
it'd all work out
and we'd be okay.
But like it or not
I'm tied to you
in so many ways.
So if you feel that too,
and I pray you do,
let's agree to stay.

It's too sad to think
our paths could cross
some far-off day -
to see you with
a stranger in
some cheap café,
or in a bar,
brand new dress,
dancing your night away.
I might catch your eye
hard-pressed to find
the words to say.

So I'll say it now,
best to hear it early
rather than too late.
'Cause if I say nothing
and seal my lips
then I seal my fate -
I love you, dear,
and I'm only hoping
you can relate.
Won't you please
meet me outside and
let me through your gate?
It's getting dark,
but that setting sun
will have to wait.

Well,
love and hate are both
good reasons to do anything.
However,
out of love comes love,
and out of hate comes hate.
So,
before you're done,
there's always this choice to be made.

I have died a thousand lives
trying to love you,
and I will live a thousand deaths
until I have the chance again.

**** all you gun-toting hillbilly blowhards.
**** Mr. President - the First Lady, too.
**** your little pseudo-democracy circus.
All of you animals belong in a zoo.

**** your religions, I pay no penance.
**** what you've written and passed on as God.
******* for shoving it all down my throat.
I know better than to listen to frauds.

I'm tired of people waving their fingers.
I'm tired of giving, I want to take.
I'm tired of ignorance fed to the masses.
My eyes are open, I am awake.

Hair a mess from what she can tell
in the mirror.
Photographs lying face-flat
in their frames over the mantel
beside the urn.
She gets up, sits down -
"Oh, what's the point?" -
and dials for her sister who has experience in this.
After the grief they share a *** of coffee and make plans to do this again.

It is in the nature of all things
to be formful and good.
All that moves is miraculous.
All that does not is deathless.
Regardless, these roles are fulfilled.

Perhaps I am yet unwise in most ways
and do not know the meaning of many slight symbols,
nor do I fully grasp the importance of free will.
But I have seen my share of death and life,
I have tasted the fruit and likewise spit it out
back into the palms of those who fed it to me.
I have heard one too many sermons desperately tempting me into salvation as it has been defined.
Short-sighted as I am, though, I have abandoned the house of the lord
to build my own here on earth.

I'm in love with you,
     and that's why this breeze
     blows for me.
     It's why the trees
     shake their leaves,
     why the sun peeks
     around the horizon,
     and why the moon rises
     and let's fall her silver
     light on me.
I'm in love with you,
     and it's why the river
     flows through this -
     as blood through
     lover's veins,
     as sweat on binded lips,
     as rain on buried roots
     (the fruit of which
     grows strong and sweet).
   I'm in love with you,
  and if again we ever meet,
 I will leave for you a gift,
though none as great as these.

Love, the sweet voice
heard in the doorway,
and the way it
rouses the ear.
Do get up and greet it,
you fool, before
it disappears.

Break-up poems are to poetry
as pop music is to music.
The same four chords,
the same four words:
I'll never love again.

Sunset colors drip down the walls.
Pools of sunlight splash.
Solitude is overwhelming
when you have no hash.

When an egotist tosses money,
scattering it at your feet,
never stoop to collect it,
no matter how poor you may be.

You whispered my name.
It carried with wind
and made it to my ear,
to my pillow was pinned.

Evenings forsaken
most nights I'm alone,
dragging my feet like
I'm tied to a stone.

Where have you been, love?
The knife turns and twists.
I long to discover
that you still exist.

You came to me an angel.
With gleaming eyes, seduced.
Around your head a halo,
now become my noose.

Dear lady with your diamonds,
dear woman with your pearls,
dear girl with your mother's pills,
dear baby with your curls,
is there one out here among us
who is worthy of your world?
Is there one out here among us
for whom your heart's reserved?

You can call it being a Christian,
I'll call it fiction,
tradition
in need of revision.
You get your scripture on your television
and at night on your knees
in the fetal position,
praying to a god who you tell me is jealous.
The whole premise,
the practice,
the promise is selfish.
And a wafer and wine
is the flesh and the blood?
What?
The grail to me sounds like
a diamond **** cup.
On your knees for the prodigal son,
altar boy walks by and now your
tunic's undone?
Let my verse be
the nail in your wrist
and truths I speak
the coin in your dish.

Climb down off your ******* cross and
show us all a miracle.
We need it now more than ever.
The world has become cynical.

Mother Mary come to me and
give me virtue, give me grace.
None of these do I possess now.
I have lost them in the race.

In the moments before dawn I
lie awake and wonder why
people came to be at all, and
my conclusion is a sigh.

I have seen the hungry eyes and
I have had to look away.
I am so inconsequential.
An action met with sharp delay.

A blemish on the face of time, we
hide behind our wealth and lies.
Turning all our heads and walking.
Barely opening our eyes.

Climb down off your ******* cross and
help us to remember why
life is dear and should be cherished
before we’re made to say to say goodbye.

Mother Mary please remind us
what it’s like to love ourselves,
how we all are most connected
and here to foster love, as well.

There was a time, when we were young, when
colors and sounds were more bright.
We breathed the same air together,
our senses new and our hearts light.

But outside there’s a swirling darkness
gathering its strength and weight,
swallowing the light created,
as we just look on and wait

hoping for a hand to reach us,
doing all the work for free.
It will merely sort itself out,
we seem to foolishly agree.

Climb down off the ******* cross and
do something for we you have made,
even though we disobey you,
doing what you have forbade.

Mother Mary come to us and
lead us back where we came from.
Show us how we’re lazy children.
Teach us who we have become.

When our page was white and empty
words came easy, I was smitten.
But now you're someone else's poem
and a line I wish I'd written.