doesn't know all
the dots have been
when it reaches out
to make a point, only
for proof it still exists.
So turbulent and changing,
A maelstrom of the soul,
Some violent crash of whimsy,
Where colliding feelings rule,
Where all is bright and happy,
Then booming, thunders roll,
Or the slightest wave of fancy,
Now all is dark and cruel,
Where smiles are pure as sunshine,
And eyes are black as coal,
With riptides rushing towards,
An ever changing goal.
I want to write poems
On your skin
With my lips.
Smoky grey under a pink lipstick sky and to one side and above me in the blink of an eye
A yawn takes me to that place
how about you?
I wake being early like the bird with the worm, but I catch the germ of an idea on my lips, ships leaving port that are caught by the tide
Side by side, groom and glide and the bride with a broom sweeping the stardust away.
He was an exister
Was bestowed the breath of mundanity
Grew up to be a lawyer
Not to bring justice
But to be a lawyer
Because he never questioned
And then he retired
He had saved all of his earnings
Not because he needed to
But because he never questioned
Finally he had retired
At last, he could live
But before he could
He took his last breath of mundanity
Pretty soon I'm gonna wake up
in a ******* Summer heat wave,
sweating bullets down the barrel
of the **** I still can't handle.
-ships or regret
barely making rent!)
I don't feel any different--
still a stupid, clumsy kid
swing-and-missing, striking out
and ******* breathing out my mouth
as I turn
and I slouch
and shuffle back to the dugout.
I'M ON A RAFT ON LAKE DeSMET
IT'S GOT A FISH HOOK TEAR IN IT
I'M SINKING FAST
SO WHERE'S MY DAD!?
I ONLY SORTA-KINDA SWIM!
Only now the raft's a loan
for lessons learned that just won't float
and the lake's this ******* town,
my stupid habits and the time
I always waste on whiny frowns,
and hanging hats
on embarrassing ****!
I'm 29 and I'm thinking
that Catch-Up's just a game I'm not winning.
Under a pile of mail with a cheap grin,
cringe away and close the blinds
and I'm calling in sick--
yeah I'll call in again
if it'll spare me from the glaring truth.
I'm 29 for a week more.
For fifty-two I swore not to keep score
with the scars from skinned up knees or my credit.
Lock the door and draw the blinds
and I'll call it a win--
yeah I'll call it a win
if it'll spare me from the glaring truth
*of a decade
containing my biggest loss.
I have these bad habits of getting older and of listening to Bomb The Music Industry!
Blue in the distance and blue at shore
I hold secrets I will never tore.
My calmness relaxes
And my torments enchant.
My long time beauty always adorn
Forever a mystery that lives on its own.
I've seen enough, I've lived for so long,
My waves tell a story that never gets old.
A story you like it by now, I know
I've seen you before
And I know you'll always come back for more.