Today, oh today, sick with rust and decay,
The clogged streets out of town that only got in your way.
Nightingale sing-song, sing cool summer nights,
Sing seashell-string houses, please turn out the lights.
We’ll be grown-ups grown up still wondering what we will be,
She said she won’t trust anyone over 30, only Jesus and me.
And I wait and I pace down the wall by the fence,
Nervous with 3am loneliness, ramshackle suspense.
Are there still windows worth watching, back dust country roads,
Some lost place love lingers, bubbles up and explodes?
You were here, I was there, are we anywhere still?
Be my sweetest regret, I’ll be your very first ****.
And today, just today, weak with strength, far away,
Swollen with promises of forever, and no intention to stay.

Now that we’ve been here before,
Distinguished lion from shark,
Learned all of fortune and greed,
And slept alone in the dark.

Now that we’re fathers of sons,
Nomads and lonely old men,
We know how far we must go,
So we know where to begin.

Now that the drunks never sing,
Sleep under bridges and coats,
The words we never could say,
Slowly suffocate in our throats.

Now that the oceans are warm,
Concealing currents so strong,
Will we still die hero’s deaths,
Or just admit we were wrong?

Now that we’ve lost all we found,
With only hope to conceal,
Placing our lives in a box,
All to make living less real.

Now that we’ve been here before,
And did it all just the same,
We’re better knowing we’re not,
And still never sorry we came.

As leaves are to the tree
Poetry is to me

Dreams, hopes, wishes and aspirations
Will never amount to very much,
Without hard work and dedication
They will forever remain as such.