I grow in your garden
As you grow in mine

We all have our devils
One's never a hard find

We are all One forever
Look and you'll  see a sign

Trust, flung
to the ground
by the horse
Riddled Doubt
with its broken leg...
They shoot horses don't they?... not really...

That day
it's either ask
a friend for a favour,
or sleep on the roof
of some City building.

The daylight affords
City parks, City benches.

Hit the Soup Kitchen
for a morning sliced cheese sandwich
along with a weak cup of tea.

Sneak into the Mall
Food Court wash rooms
for a freshen-up.

A ****, shower and shave
without the shower and shave.

One foot in front of the other,
one foot on the street,
the other in the gutter.

Killing time, looking
for friendly faces
to *** a smoke from.

Feeling no permanence,
no point, no purpose.

A bruised and broken ego,
avoiding any eye contact.

Pity-faced glances
walk by on passing heads.

Not two cents to rub together,
looking for any best-old-ex-friend,
in the hopes of sofa surfing,
or maybe just a cup of coffee.

I'm lonesome for the country
and I need to get out of town.
with this city if you're in for a penny
you're in for a pound.

I need to get back to my roots,
I want to fill my boots
with some hallowed country sound.

A skateboard flies by,
clack-clack on every sidewalk crack,
the same rhythm, same rhyme
as that lonesome long snake
rolling down the line.
Moving up the steel to a muddy sky,
moving up the steel to a muddy sky.

A pedal steel wails as a cop goes by,
Chev Malibou sails through a red light.
On every corner you have to look left
and you have to look right.
You can't go looking up the steel to a muddy sky.
looking up the steel to a muddy sky.

This city she has her shades of blue,
a man stands on the corner with a national.
two hands pounding out a delta groove,
his head tilts back,sings, you got to move, you got to move.

Moving up the steel to a muddy sky,
moving up the steel to a muddy sky

I sat down to write
something meaningful

something
the poetic readers

will show you that
you've struck a vein with their likes

something
so meaningful

it spills over
with meaning

turning the heads
of other writers

and it brings tears to the eye
with its stinging truth

so full of insight
that it shines a light

on the darkest corners
of the mind

I want to love you
Like there's no tomorrow
Give it my all
And never experience any sorrow
Take my hand
And let me kiss your lips
Let me lead you to the promised land
To wait for our offspring
With both hands on my hips
I wonder, do you feel the same
I'd like to ask you
Hoping you're not playing a game
Is it only my *** you want
Though it's nothing to write home about
Or is it your *** you want to flaunt
We could blast off
Into the stars
You being Venus
Me being Mars
We could hold up a mirror
And peer past our reflection
Make love day and night
Not wearing any protection
I think I have loved you
Since I was a kid
But wait a minute now...
Let's not and say we did.

Once he
      held it
         he knew,
            he just knew

he was going
   to the top,
      of that  there is no doubt

from the time
    he started
       his mojo working

he was walking, talking
      all about...

that time
   when he was
             reading tea leaves

he  
was  
     voodooing ,

          just  using
             his   imagination


he travelled far,
          that train whistle blowin'
              sowing the seeds he was sowing.

then, while listening to bob dylan
      he had what they call, an epiphany

he started growing mushrooms
                    to see what he could see

when the results came back
                  
       he said his epitaph
                 just has to read

   'Down Through The Years
The Lord Has Been Good To Me'

Meat
and bones
shiver,

trees
naked
branching
on the curved
turquoise
skyline.

Azure,
nothing
hidden,

Spring
bolting
through.

Winter's
white
blanket
long
passed
its Glitter.

Snow
now
a
four
letter
word.

Now I'm a *******
From Scott's Bay
Where inbreeding  took its toll
My mother and her mother before her
They were an exception not the rule
Or was it the other way around.
The only thing that saved me was my father
God rest this soul.
He was imported from Boston while a babe in arms
Later to met with the love of his life my mother
God rest her soul.
I guess you could compare us
With the hill billies from the hills of Virginia
Complete with some banjo playing
Only here in the Bay someone's
Always playing the bagpipes
You know the difference between the bagpipes and an onion
Nobody cries when you chop up the bagpipes
And as for crackers like Hank Williams the third
We crackers prefer to be called Saltines.

Down under
with faceless fear.
Thunderclap
sounds wonder.
Drip,drip,
of one too many tear.

Caught
between
you and I,
a spark
burned hot.

Reaching in,
drawing back.
A bellows billows black.

I can't
wonder
where or when,
what it was we had,
and will it ever
be back again.

The long lost love
lost its luster.
Too much too soon,
Much too much
trust to muster.

You said
you didn't want
to hurt me,
but still you did.

I never wanted to hurt you,
but still I did. Some times
I can clearly see where it is that
I bring sorrow.

We bounced around
and called it fun.
We hid ourselves
not wanting to hurt,
we played the lie
and took what
we thought
was the best.

But inside now,
I see it for what it was,
it was just a curve ball
sinking fast.

Sometimes,
in my right mind,
I clearly see why
I feel the guilt
and the shame.

When your pain
or some symbol
of your grief
lay
spread eagle
over my not so picture
perfect day,
and in my
undaunted attempt to
kick your dark
memory
to the curb.


When I
can see where
I caused you sorrow,
I have to
justify it,
stop
thinking
about it,
put it...
off until tomorrow.

I sometimes wonder
if there really is
any winners
or losers
in break-ups,
or if it is only the prep work
while the chef
shouts out his or her maniacal orders.

I did once look
at my past loves,
(if you can call them that).
The only common denominator
I could come up with
as to why they didn't hold true amd work
was me..
So there I go,
who's to blame who.
That just amounts to,
That's that...

© 2013

sift through
     all that crap
and check my direction,
where the ****'s my compass..
oh god, tell me this
                         ain't going to last,
shoot me under the wire
right before those cubes are cast.

Baby blow on them dice
   and kiss the guy to your right.

that's it,         kiss him on the lip,
      
       what a trip,                   what a slip

showing your      colours like that,

playin' those juicy chords,

            playin'    hard     on that strat.




All Rights Reserved @2012

A
good
laugh
can make
all the difference
in the world

a joke is
a joke is
a joke

I can't
take myself
too seriously

laughing
at myself
is good medicine

When it's bad
it's really bad.
I Sometimes wish
that I were out to sea,
the rocking of the ship
to comfort me.

The days they crawl by
with me waiting on night fall.

I sit in the relative quiet
of the kitchen and listen...
soft rain on the window,
the sump pump
in the basement
beating out a
chugging rhythm.

The clock, not digital,
becomes a metronome
ticking and tocking,
just hanging there
on the wall.

The pills I was taking,
they no longer work.
I drink absolutely no coffee
after my morning's cups
fearing the caffeine
will stay in my system
when it is once again
time to shut my lids
to try and drift away.

When what little sleep
I am granted is interrupted
by my mind saying;
am I sleeping,
am I dreaming?
Then I become conscious again
and I fight back tears
that slide down my temples
pooling in my ears.

Morning comes
and I pray that I
get through the day
without ripping someone
a new one.
Another day on edge, edgy,
distant in a strange but familiar way.

My face wearing my angst,
my back, hunched.
My eyes darting to the left,
to the right, up then down.

I feel so ****** tired
and I fear what will come
in the remains of the day.

Learning to live with things
as they are is taking more time
than I ever thought I had.

The Starlings
outside my window
sing a song
of no regret,
there is snow
on the ground
and little food
to be found,
but that's okay
because today
the sun is out
and the sky
is clear,
it is very warm
for this time of year,
and if the
theosophy
doesn't blind me.
I know I'll find me
a weapon to use
to fight these blues.

shaman shaman
bury me
under a starlit sky
beside a sinless tree.

commend my soul
to the vastness above,
bathe me, cleanse me,
lift me high on the wings of the dove.

of my talents i leave here on earth,
scatter them, share them,
to bear witness of new birth.

if others must judge my worried past,
fill their hearts with love and kindness,
the gifts of the Spirit
that hold true and fast.

and to those for whom i have cared
that have gone before,
please have them stand in ready
to open the door.

no news is good news
just as long as i am lying here with you,
and though we're fools
still i want just to hold you.

in my mind are these rolling hills
and these green, green fields,
the fog is everywhere
and i'll always remember
because you were there.

terra-cotta woman
my celtic queen,
you work with clay
giving form its birth,
to shape this day
you have turned to the earth,
terra-cotta woman
my celtic queen.

and when i get home
i want to unplug the phone,
turn the lamp down low,
because no news is good news
just as long as i am staying here with you
and though we're fools
still i want just to hold you.

© 2000

Green and gold,
and a splash of red..

Took me hours to complete
and I can't take it with me
when I leave.


Two women,
I am close to
and I find myself
all alone.

They both
have a bone
to pick

and I'm bad at
saying I'm sorry.

'Today' is a new day,
and 'today' is the only response
to 'what's up', or 'what's new.'

Today is all that is new,
remember 'nothing new
under the sun'.

You can wait for miles
for that call
you're never going to get,
I changed my bank account
but it doesn't mean I've changed.

My car payment's
not due because I have
two feet and a heart beat,
let alone my bike.

Let's see,
maybe a spot of tea
and some breakie.

I know, a shrimp concoction!

There isn't any 'flying high'
with out some kind of 'crash'
back down to earth.

Time doesn't wait,
you wait while you
watch the paint dry.


© 2013

You can change, you've heard that said,
just listen to me, I know what you need to do.
Bring your ear down to my lips..

Listen close and then you'll know,
it won't be before you up and blow,

that ****** green eyed monkey away.
Shoot it square in the head,
right between those beady eyes.

Leave it there,
leave it for dead,
and dead is where it's going to stay.

You could never give it away,
and you can't to this day,
but you can't take any more..
you have to even the score.

No wearing your heart
on the cuff of your sleeve.
You've got to give your self
some room to breathe.

You could never give it away,
and you can't to this day.
You can't give what you don't own,
it was taken from you along time ago.

Taken away when you were very young,
and repeatedly stolen when you reached out to touch it.

How you  shut yourself down,
it's a wonder in its self,
was this the only way to cope with what was..

if you were at least able to give
half as good as you get
you wouldn't crave all the time
making you the misfit those thought you were.

It hasn't been with much in the way of style
that you have let your teardrops fall,
it's been a while
since you had the real thing,
it's been a long long time
since you just let loose
and had a good hard cry...
even longer since you let your heart sing.

Every time you find something that you say 'is to die for',
it up and dies on you. I think it's time for that righteous cry.
Just let it loose, don't wait for the tide.

Cold and lonely
this life you've been living,
perhaps it's time to take a day trip,
rent a car and drive on out of here.

Maybe make it a weekend and go for broke,
hell take a week and drive on out to the other coast.

Stop asking your self
how can you grow up
when you are a child of God,
just remember all the times you were able to hold on when life was so hard..

So kiss those dreams and set them free.
If you could wouldn't you just trust in the Universe
and set those things that are yours to begin with free,
free to come back ten-fold.

Life is too short,
that says it all.
But it doesn't mean at times
it won't be a long hard crawl.

Don't you just carry your light
in to another room.
We can't be here for the bare bones,
The daily bread you think you have to buy
in the supermarket.

If that's the case
I would just lay down and die,
right here, right now.

There is so much more that meets the eye.
If it isn't just a nice day it's someone helping someone in a good, kind way.

I set my own traps and after I learn that... it will be time to move on.

end  


© 2013

A good rule of thumb,
     here in the mechanics
       of the mind, some just aren't
            mechanically inclined.

A line of people
    waiting in a queue,
more and more gathered
   until there was quite a few.

Some were crippled
     and others were blind,
            some were deaf and they did sign.

Here in the mechanics of the mind
   some just aren't mechanically inclined.

A good rule of thumb,
        none of what you see
            only half of what you hear.
               They 'll play on your ignorance
                     they will cater to your fear.

More and more came to
    where they gathered on that day.
They brought with them paper,
        and shoddy goods  they did take away.

Here in the mechanics of the mind,
   some just aren't mechanically inclined.
      And a good rule of thumb is a good rule of thumb.

Time u luckout on the 13th,
                                 times luck don't go your way
                 ah what you say, what you say...
         it's like walkin' past a graveyard bangin' on a drum...

Sunday, the day of rest... liqour store opens in 6 and 1/2 hours.. wait now, can't drink on a Sunday at noon.. holy **** that's just asking for some gas to spit on the fire.

5:45..tomwaits on low.. heard the neighbour's baby about 30 minutes ago, like I say.. Tom Waits on low.  Got my Epiphone semi-electric... it's not too loud.  Think I'll go for a drive although I told my gal that I'd just drive home... I got coffee on the go now...

I cough up
your menstrual blood
when I hear his voice.
His fuckn words fall
with a thud.
I don't listen 'cause
I have that choice.
He's a weasel
wheelin' around
to push his ware.
When you want him
he can't be found,
he ain't nowhere.
I cough up
your menstrual blood
and that's no lie.
He ain't a missle
he's a dud,
the farthest thing from dope,
'way too far from fly.
The moral of the story is...
if you can be free from Scott
you can be scott-free.

© 2012

From the tips
   of her fingers
    
To the heel
        of her soul,

One greedy woman.

  She asks:
      
"Teach me how to
       dance on graves,

        Show me my insides out,
           Preach to me of the ungodly.."

" I will not"  I said.
      "Look to another, I am
           unavailable.
              
           You would have me
                 be Sisyphus while you
                    take the Queen's throne."

Inviting all to ponder
    as you wear only a thong,
         your ******* slightly hidden in the shadow....

Your hiss is threadbare,
      just audible to those
                 in spitting range.

All is not
    welcoming
      with me,
        I was once blind
           to  your  level  of   fuckery.

No more says the man
that guides the boy within.

I have grown
   on the shoulders
       of what I once was.

To me
   your voice
      is the sound
              of two cats fighting.

What right do I have
     to dance on the dead,
             let alone show you.

If you're going to ride my ***
you could at lease pull my hair.
She was pushin' 55 when
the bumper sticker caught my eye,
she was at the controls of  
a disturbed yellow Datson
with Nova Scotia plates,
a combination of rust red and bright yellow
sliced down the middle with one wide strip of black,
heel to toe, and tinted windows to boot.

1970 Northern Canada, hundreds of kids
thumbin' from East to West and from West to East.
I shared the Impala with two young ladies  from Ontario,
and  the driver was friendly as hell, as well as being deaf...

The Datsons bumper sticker now a pleasant memory..
Today there are fewer travelers and many being unemployed ex-cons and dyed in the wool Hobos harboring severe alcohol and drug problems... you could say that it's no longer safe.

My travelling days are  over..
I left them 30 years in the dust.
I really have seen the last of those,
today when I go, it's not long before I want back..
I miss the ocean, and the Atlantic  is my choice.  
The Pacific smells of dank wood with all the tall furs
and the logging industry.  Give me my camp fire on the beach,
I'll wash the salt away before I jump in the sheets at the days end.
My skin being golden brown from a close enough Star.

Don't just don't stand too close,
what do you figure man!

Don't you know there is a pandemic!

I guess as far as you are concerned Big Government
will help you, don't you know, they will or will not.

Banking the house for winter
so the pipes don't freeze.

North, North America is o so cold
come winter... and the slush and the salt
ruining your car and your clothes.

I'd like a formidable climate,
a place to hang my hat.
Some place so awesome
you just want to plant your roots.

It would be so sweet if it wasn't so bitter
It would really move if it didn't stand so still
It's going to take a lot of water, maybe a river
It'll take a lot of love until I've had my fill

Sometimes love's fire lifts us up
It burns so bright as we fill our cup
We touch so soft and slow beside the ancient well
It feels so good to be in love's spell
So we try to hold tight but love takes wings
And sometimes in our pain we do hurtful things

Love's strong suit held close to the chest
Says you got it made your hand is the best
So you can go big or you can stay home
You can hold your horses, you can hold the phone
In the end and you know it's true
You're going to slide right in there's nothing you can do

When you can't find love because
It's hidden hard in heart-red shades and blue-grey shadow
It feels like you don't remember how to live
You stumble around and forget your place
You wring your hands and you knit a face
You try and pretend it doesn't matter that's what you'll do
Who are you trying to kid who's fooling who

A foot of snow
with rain to follow,
only the youthful can travel,
the youthful at heart.

The elderly are house bound.
And those who choose to be,
like lovers
on their feather bed.
And the paranoid
with too many holes in their head.

Silos breaching the skyline,
Large ****** of the landscape.
The smells of the barnyard are pungent..
Although not unpleasant, really, rather pleasant.

These old farms all along this winding road,
They've stood tall for a century or two.
Their clap board  and stone attest to a time
When what was built was built to last.

The pictures taken don't quite take in the charm,
The nobility, the steadfastness, the breath of a solid life
People seem as scarce as hens teeth, not a soul to be seen.
Just horses lambs cows and cats and dogs.

Rest
in
peace
Herb.

It's
just
over
a year
now

since
you
delivered
that
'hot shot'.

Did
you
send
it
into
your
veins.

Or
did someone
overdose
you,

did
some
one
other
than
your
self
give
you
that
lethal
injection.

Maybe
some
pretty
little
lady
that
had
you
wrapped
around
her
finger
'cause
she
needed
a little
rock
and
roll.

The
day
after
this
had
happened,
I
found
myself
knocking
at your
door...


Funny
how
things
work
isn't
it..




I miss you herb.

© copyright 2012

On his head
  was tattooed a number
     while through his mind
        flew destruction.

Over his shoulder blew Kong,
        and upon Kong,
             war's breastplate of torture.

A viced gripped and girdled waist
  with spikes tipped to rip the flesh.
A chain mail vest webbed with deism
  and acute despair lay sheathed.

You see him and terror grips,  
           when through his eyes,
             your eyes are reflected.

What is your number.



© 2013

You know how mainstream Christianity
can make you feel so sick.

But still I pay attention
to the essential Christian philosophy.

To not do so, for me it would be like
throwing the baby Jesus out with the bathwater.

Some
get stressed
over the very small.

Like they 'can't stand the heat from the kitchen,'
so they leave only to jump from the 'frying pan in to the fire'.

If any one is going to pull my strings,
that would be me.

Although I do..   ...one thing you can't call me is a liar.
I've given them the benefit of the doubt,

You told me to trust them,
then I had to yank my fore-hand
up to the bridge of my nose
so as to stop them from poking
me in my own two eyes
with their own *******.

.yuckyuck....end


© copyright 2013

All Rights Reserved

What shade has come over me
to leave such a trail of steel,
this thing I live is a runaway train.

I feel so obliged to follow it,
dragging me, kicking and screaming,
didn't I once engineer this life gone insane.

Pulled along behind, face hid in forearms,
ka-knock-knock- knocking my head on every railway tie.
What shade is this that has split bean's brain.

By the wrist I am chained to this runaway train,
with traits of a hell-hound out of control,
nothing to push to stop from being pulled.

Bound to lose faith at the very least,
though risk of life and limb be the final price.
What shade is this film that I have cast myself in,
what shade is this play that won't go away.

I was my mother's bad joke
she just didn't get me

She thought monogamy
Was a type of wood

All I knew about my father
Is that his seed didn't fall to the ground

My mother's friends were ******* me
Their cheap perfume stung my eyes

And burned my throat
As it made its way to my fragile lungs

When I grew older I had a woman
I loved very much

She ghosted me
Turning my heart to stone

To get away I took a trip to
The Petrified Forest asking why it was so afraid

I didn't need a death sentence
To let me know I was alive

So I turned around and went back home
To the place I hang my hat

I lived my life out naturally
Holding memories and a well-worn heart

life is full of twists and turns
beautiful visions and down right burns

I cry
Not only because I feel alone

I see others out there
Not knowing what to do

You say
You have something to offer

Please come to my
Windowpane and tap lightly

As the devil
Stands on my welcome mat

Beating down the door

What do I do, do I invite him in
To begin another round of chaos

Or do I wait for your gentle rap
On my windowpane

Back to the
subtle pool
of dark and deep
that lay below illumination.

Wriggling slippery
scales of black
in a pool
so hard to see
so hard
to grasp.

Down the hall
in the realm of control,
pulling into light a dark shadow.

Maybe two, but one.

Pull it close
to touch it in mind,
to know it and own it
and to let it go.

So deep and dark
and subtle and fooling
this pool of mind.

Like banging a drum
                      passed the graveyard,
it's all he can do
to tell himself.. it's not hard.
The tombstones cast an iery light,
you can hear the faint sounds of trombones
caught behind the moon
on this chilly night.

One makes stands
higher than the other,
he recognizes this
to be his brother.

Then he takes out the fold-together  *****
from his back-pack,
and commences to dig.
He digs and he digs,
the pile of dirt grows around him..

then all of a sudden.. clunck-clunck...
he hits the ornate casket with a rock hammer,
that casket that was bought and sold
by the many wails and tears
of the family and friends.


out strikes the rock hammer,
...thud...thud...,thud.

he says to himself.. this must be hardwood...****.. I should have brought a drill!.

aghh the life of a grave robber... not quite a coffin cheater.
his hands are ***** now, and the midnight sky twinkles dissent.

it's plain though,yes its plain,it's plain it's plain...

Digging' up your own brother for a watch and a suit that might not even fit you.. and what else.. a couple of rings.......  good luck to you.


© 2013

insult
    to
        injury

               egg
          on
    yer
face

fobbed out

whats

   da
      
madda
          
             fo
                
                  you

broken
   rice
     bowl

                 kamikaza
             pilots
         wearing
     helmets

                -why-

shame
   shaming
      shammed

          junk
     and
foibles

I was not
born in the USA, if I were
I'd be tired of the excuses having to be made
from the wars to the dead Kennedy brothers.

And the Martin Luther Kings.
Anyone who brings glimpses of a World for the better.
Those with the current currency that they clutch tightly.
They will never allow things to become worthwhile for all.

How much
of the population
needs to be soul-serious
to speed up the change
away from the love of money
toward the love of humankind.

The system has lost control.
A vote means nothing
An Election means nothing

Everyone around the World
watches on and their juices get stirred.
The Rich talk about a New World Order.

Something has to change,
war will not change it,
hoarding money and power
will not change it.

The only thing that can change it
is you and me. What if they threw a war
and nobody came.

My views might lean toward a simpler
type of socialism, but one fully gutted.
No Rich with their self proclaimed power
to own places and things. To lay claim to the land that belongs to no one.
The Earth and The Sky is the right of all, not any ruling class not any warring class.

Radical you say, well it is the roots that are rotting.

They want us to be divided, unthinking about anything
other than a ******* car or truck or a house we only think we own
Until the time they want to take it from us. Leaving us nothing,
leaving more and more to beg and to curse the cold: Blaming those who have.

Can you see their arrogance thinly veiled with a shallow smile?
Can you see the destruction of this small planet we all share only
when it comes to taking up a bit of space and a little oxygen.
A revolution is at hand but not one of the sword and shield


If anyone is in need of an intervention it's all of us, every last one of us.
Our disregard for life... all life. Change, 'change has come' is flaunted to many
of the mass but many around the world are waking up. They no longer believe. We must keep this Universal tool of Information so most of us can galvanize with the like minded.

Not to play at a thing called Twitter were in my world Twitter is a place
just south of LA where everyone is practising joke writing for the movies
and TV. And most are failing. Real change is brought about by Leaders knowing that real change begins from within. The stronger we become
the more compassionate we look on our world. The more we want change for all.

Back to the
subtle pool
of dark and deep
that lay below illumination.

Wriggling, slippery
scales of black
in a pool
so hard to see,
so hard to grasp.

Down the hall
in the realm of control,
pulling into light a dark shadow.

Maybe two, but one.

Pull it close
to touch it in mind,
to know it and own it
and let it go.

So deep and dark
and subtle and fooling,
this pool of mind.

could it be something
that the whole world believes true
which is illusion

I hold
my cards hard
to my chest
on this night
that is oh so close

My teeth
stained from
coffee and nicotine

I share
a strawberry
beer with the
occasional fruit fly

The air is still
not a breeze
to be had

Sights set beyond starry skies
Close enough star where daylight lies

Sleepy lids waiting to catch it in its rise
Brand new day to try on for size

addicted
to caffeine
and nicotine

a childhood
full of wonder
and pain

senseless
education
stained with lies

better
drugs
downtown

take
that chance
feed the need

let us go
for drinks

and talk
about other times
when we were friends
and how you made me feel

Hold on to what you have.
You see, their behaviour may change
but their nature never will.

You have to pull a rabbit
out of the hat.
Yes it has, it has come down to that.

You need to turn your filter on,
let the others soldier on,
while you put up your protective screen.

The time is now to roll up your sleeves
and start digging in the dirt before you go all in
and lose your shirt.

You flip-flop like a fish on dry land.
You want someone, anyone
to fix it but nobody can.

You're a drunk, hung over an abyss
that is his life.. Does he let go,
or continue to nurse his hangover.

You're like a walking stick fashioned from a giant Oak,
oh the irony, never to attain its former glory.
Now propping up an elderly man who has seen better days.


And what about the days you get so stressed over the smallest of things.
You jump from the frying pan into the fire.
The gulf between your Creator and you getting longer, deeper, higher.

Some one said, it is in vain to attempt
to keep a secret from one who has the right to know.
Best to head on down the road, whistling blow wind blow.

You hold my hand out to receive her heart.
We never got along too well
but this is a much better start, me and her bleeding heart.

Hand me that pistol
don't let it go off in your clutches

Give me the ammo
stay and watch me load

The first few pops
shake me out of my skin

Sweat pouring down my forehead
I feel like losing control

Nervous as a first date
hard to draw a bead

Okay, gently squeeze
the trigger, count... one two, three

Coming up
From the bottom
I see the sun through the waves

Put a man
Face to face
With his addiction
And see how he behaves

Standing tall
In a world that lies

Takes a whole
Lot of resolve
Not to step in time

The whole **** place
Has got a ***** loose somewhere

There is plenty to distract the mind
So easy for it to take the bait
I say this to you because I know you can relate

I can't hide my face
In the sand
No, Not in the middle of Winter
How do I
Remove the log
While I work on the splinter

A lost cause
I think not

Know those laws
Before you break them
Know that ***
Before it's lit

Go for the root
Not the stem
Then you can get
Down to it again

i
don't
have
a
steady
job
but
my
expenses
are
low,
you
could
say
that
i've
been
blessed
with
all of
what
i've
got
and
all
of
what
i know.

i
like
the
clothes
on
my
back
and
i
have
a nice
place
to live,
i've
got
friends
who
love
me,
because
you
see,
i get
as
good
as
i give,
ah- huh,
yes,
all
of
my
needs
are met,
and
it's
all
because
i
give
just
as
good
as i get.

i like
my
music
and
i like
my
wine,
i know
everything
will
work
out
alright,
whether
it's
pouring
rain,
or
the
weather
is fine,
i
will
be
leaving
all of
my
lonesome
troubles
oh
so
far
behind.

when
the
sun
goes
down
and
i am
ready
to rest,
i
call
out
for
my
baby
because
i know
that
she
will
give
me
her best.
oh yes,
my
baby
can be
a sweet
little thing,
she's a
real
free spirit
don't you know,
when
i call her
'sweetheart'
she
doesn't
crack
a smile,
and
'honey'
don't work
for
anything
anyhow.
when
i call
her
'babydoll'
it
doesn't
raise
the
roof,
but
when
she
calls
me
'god',
oh
my
'god',
that's
when
i get
my
proof.


© 2013

Train whistle blowin',
everybody knowin'
the time 'till the
end of days is growin'.

But the warmth
of your naked heart
embraces me,
letting me know
that everything
is going
to be alright.

To know this
is to understand
that I am here to love
and to be loved,
not to live in fear
of what is to come.

Everything is
as it should be,
leaving me
no end to see,
and infinity
becomes
the destiny.


© 2013

Sheltered promises
fitting male into female,
and I hold out in this hotel room
standing up for nothing.
There is a time to pay the price
and just get on the ride.

The local folk, they don't smile much.
So I hunt my alone time down,
only to set it free when caught.
Get a whiff of that!
It smells like someone died in here,
their spirit choking on crumbs of thought.

Metal bars and a chainlink fence,
chewed torn sleep when it comes.
Some only sleep,
maybe they are free until their lids separate.
The toll being too high for me to cross beyond.
Unsweetened, sweaty dreams chide and natter,
becoming bitter yearnings
off in the distance,
only markings made by memories.