Everything brings back
Thoughts of the Sea
The Tumultuous Ocean
That whispered to me.

Reality is nothing
After all that has passed
Everything’s tainted
Stained and unchaste.

Hours are seconds
Time stopped the day
He breathed out his last
And faded away.

I’ve stopped writing stories
With sticks in the sand
And brushed them away
With slow grieving hands

The water is silent
Where it strokes the shore
Reaching for someone
Not here anymore.

Sent out the invitations
Up and down the party line
With a tweak of the imagination
The party to end all times
If this don't get you misbehavin'
That right there would be a crime
So come one in fact come all, we'll help you spend your dime

Leave behind all your senses
And inhibitions at the door
Pull yourself up a lawn chair
All you drunks pull up a floor
This is the party of a lifetime
No one can ignore
And when it comes down to it, ain't that what a party's for

I knew there'd be a slight crowd
But I had no idea
That it'd be so eclectic
To include zombified midgets
Along with Henry the VIII
With a few beheaded wives and kids
That guy's a lady killer like nobody else's Biz

There's bearded circus lady's
Hanging off the chandeliers
Politicians kissing babies
Spreading a message for all to hear
The only problem is the message
Never is quite clear
Still the crowd stands on it's feet with the loudest cheer

I saw both the Bacon brothers
Eating a ham sandwich by poolside
As a plane flew overhead
Writing a message in the sky
The end of the world's tomorrow
You can kiss it all goodbye
Might as well continue partying if tomorrow we're going to die

At the stroke of midnight
Marilyn Monroe steps through the door
With a bag of party favors
And Elvis Presley in tow
No more need for the Disco ball
With his rhinestones all a glow
We hang Elvis high as the rest of us hang low

The party got so rowdy
The neighbors called the police
Who saw it as beyond control
So they called the local priest
The only ones that need saving
Are the drunks down on their knees
Ocefier arrest them then please help me find my keys

It's now the morning after
And everyone is gone
The biggest mess I've ever seen
And more out on the lawn
It's all one big blur to me
Of who, what, where was going on
But I best get busy cleaning before Mom and Dad get home

And she said…

I luv you,
?
Where’s the

O-v-e-

R
we truly
Over?

Or just yet
To begin?

Well, *** u

It’s convenient
To shorten words
To speed the converse
But love
Should be handled
With delicacy
You’re lack of concern
Brought
“I luv u 2”
In return
You’re more mathematical
Than poetical
And I accept our difference
But your indifference
Once I brought it
To your attention
Is well worth
The “*** you” aforementioned

If I was a work of art I'd be a poem
but just a blank white sheet of generic notebook paper
and you would be a symphony
which sounds pretty beautiful
but I never really liked Bach and
I never really liked Beethoven and
I never really liked Mozart and
I never really liked
myself

but
ohmygoddidIlikeyou
like Da Vinci liked Mona and
Dali liked

l
o
  n
   g

d r i p    i n g
          p
brush strokes depicting surrealist scenes and
Picasso liked Cubism and
Van Gogh liked his own ******* sadness and a tub of sunflower-yellow paint and that girl
he sent his neatly packaged and not-so-neatly severed off ear to

though
I suppose
artists are supposed to hate their art
with a burning self-depreciation sort of self-determination or
at least that's what I got from
Plant and Lydon and Cobain and
every other shooting star rock-and-roll phenomenon with their name engraved on a plaque somewhere
and a drug problem that procured a thousand cigarettes now just as burnt out as they are

but here's the thing
you aren't my art
you
are a breathing
walking
talking
self-portrait that sputters to life every morning
with an accent on each note

like I said
if we were art
you would be a symphony
but the orchestra
is crescondo-ing to no end now and
quite frankly I am tired of all these high-pitched violin marcatos and
I am losing myself in the repeats and
I am just wondering when the fine will come

like I said
if we were art
I would be a poem
that was just an empty piece of drab old paper
much too conventional and clean and
empty
to be appreciated
but
I guess a beginning in the form of an empty sheet of paper is all
Poe and Frost and Plath and
Auden and Silverstein and Dickinson and
Shakespeare and Bukowski and Cummings
had in common
anyway.

For every girl who was a "*****"
    because she said no to a boy;
For every girl who was a "****"
    because she said yes.

For every girl who was "asking for it"
    because she wore a short skirt;
For every girl who was a "*****"
    because she wore a long one.

For every girl who was a "challenge"
    because she liked other girls;
For every girl who was "easy"
    because she liked both.

For every girl who was "fat"
    because she had dessert;
For every girl who was "anorexic"
    because she didn't.

For every girl who was "insecure"
    because she wore make-up;
For every girl who was "ugly"
    because she didn't.

For every girl who smiled
    because she thought she was pretty;
For every girl who cried
    because she was told she wasn't:  

Here’s to you.

This here is hallowed ground
Simply because I say so
Hold your tongue; not a sound
On this here hallowed ground

This here is a spiritual place
Simply because it is
Feel catharsis in the tears on your face
In this here spiritual place

This here is wrong
Simply because I don't understand it
Don't be like them or sing their songs
Because that, they, are wrong.

This here is right
Only because it's black and white
Don't you ever stray from what we like
Conform with us tonight.

I
I hit my
I hit my head again and I
and I can’t get up
I can’t get up off the floor
off the floor that creaks and
that creaks and is cold
cold and I don’t
and I don’t remember my name
I don’t remember my name or yours.
and you were
and you were important to me
to me you were important
I think
I think but I hit my head
hit my head and I’m bleeding
I’m bleeding from my ears
bleeding from my ears because you
you lied to me
I think
I remember
you lied to me
lied to me
and I remember your name
your name is God

If only we lived in a  movie
In a cute little flat
That our lives and love revolved around
I think I'd like that

I'd walk through the door
And kiss your smiling face
You'd hold me tight
In a warm embrace

In the living room
There'd always be calm Beatles music playing
And to those songs
We'd be romantically swaying

In the bedroom we'd lie
Intetwined beneath white sheets so thin
Sunlight streaming through the window
Warming our bare skin

In that bed
We could make sweet, tender love
Or maybe cuddle, or just kiss
Or all of the above

In the kitchen I'd stand
Making pancakes on a sunny sunday morn
You'd stand behind me with your arms around my waist
Messy bedhead your face will adorn

You'd strum your guitar
And sing me my favourite songs
And you'd know I can't sing
So I'd just hum along

Maybe we'd have a cat
And we could name her Nyx
And we can make vows to love eachother
Upon the River Styx

This place could be a safe haven
For just me and you
No one would bother us
For it was just built for two

We could have all of this
And maybe even more,
If only you didn't see me
As just a silly little girl

You tell me that I'm needed,
That there's something I don't see.
But I'm scared to let you see it,
This thing inside of me.

I'm not alright,
You should know this by now.
Because I'm hurt,
And I am broken,
Don't make me tell you how.

You tell me that you know me,
That I have that 'certain spark'.
But the only thing you'll get from me,
Is a twisted and broken heart.

The last time that I
Was banished to the
Time Out Corner
It was because
I wouldn't read
I didn't want to read
You couldn't make me read.

Then I met a boy.
He had black messy hair
Bright green eyes
And a scar in the shape
Of a lightning bolt
On his forehead.
He was the boy who lived

Then I met a boy
He had ginger hair
Connect the dot freckles
And hand-me-down robes
He was a Weasley.

Then I met a girl
She had auburn hair
An eager intellect
And muggle parents
She was a mudblood

They hindered the dark lord
They slaughtered the basalisk
They rescued the prisoner
They witnessed the return
They battled the dark arts
They cried for the loss of their leader
They lost and they won.
And they moved on.

They are grown up now
I am out of the
Time Out Corner
And in the library
Constantly
Because I'm always reading
I always want to read
You can't make me stop reading

The boy
The boy
And the girl
Are grown up now.


And I am grown up too.