You didn't listen.
You didn't learn.
And you wonder
Why they call you stubborn?

You act stupid.
When you're not.
You refuses to adapt.
When you should.
And you wonder
Why they call you stubborn?

You act unreasonable.
Just determine to remain the same.
And because of that you think others to blame.
Only if you agree.
Then you'll see how great things could be.

Except you're stubborn.
Just refuses to change.

Its not that you can't be controlled.
You just use to getting your way.
Except you're spoil.
And strictly stubborn to see.
That you could meet half way with me.

A duo as diverse as can be found anywhere
but, once we were together, full of stories to share
Laughter and hardship made us both who we are
And now, to find those two people, is like roping a star

Baseball and cub scouts, standing in as your dad
These were some of the best times that I ever had
I wait for the doorbell, hoping that's where you'll stand
And that the burdens developed are gone with your hand

Two hard headed old mules,
As stubborn as the other
We've lost years of our past
And missed times as a brother
Two hard headed old mules
Growing old with regret
Both resistant to change
And ..what we'll never get

We'd stand with each other in times all gone by
We don't know how to fix this, but, someone should try
We're both so much older and wiser by now
This needs to be fixed up, but neither knows how

Years of missed laughter and growing as friends
Is extended each day, and we should make ammends
Our lives are much different, that much we know
But, we still sons and both brothers, with time left to go

Two hard headed old mules,
As stubborn as the other
We've lost years of our past
And missed times as a brother
Two hard headed old mules
Growing old with regret
Both resistant to change
And...what we'll never get

I wait for the doorbell, and know it's not you
I'm not sure if I found you, just what I would do
The sins of the father, should be put to rest
For our years full of laughter were some of the best

Fishing, and talking, sharing each others dreams
Have been wiped from our minds, at least that's how it seems
We'll always be brothers, right now just in name
We're just stubborn old mules, still playing the game

Two hard headed old mules,
As stubborn as the other
We've lost years of our past
And missed times as a brother
Two hard headed old mules
Growing old with regret
Both resistant to change
And... we're not done yet!!

Winter seems to pull us together, doesn't it, love? Its as if the times things seem to want to pull us apart we get stronger.

Last winter, I gave you my heart, and you haven't left since. This year it seems my cautionary head, always so untrusting of itself and others, has decided of one certain thing: it wants to spend forever with you.

Its funny to me, how I never go all googlie-eyed as my high school friends always told me it would be. They would ooh and ah over some boy, and I'd always roll my eyes. I always thought such cooing was silly. Their bitter response was often that I didn't understand, and once I really loved someone I'd feel the same.

But now here I sit, more certain than anything that I love you more than anyone else. And you know what I'm doing? I'm not cooing, I'm not boasting of your infinite wonder. I'm not getting at all googlied-eyed.

I'm sitting here shaking my head, laughing to myself, as if to say "****."

****, I did not know it would be like this. That you would be like this. That there could be rhythm and method to an unpredictable, spontaneous, messy relationship. That I would feel more connected and in sync with you than I feel adoration or reverence. You're not some hunky guy in third period, you're basically just the best tumor I've ever gotten attached to my hip. A tumor that I'm better off keeping.You make me better. And I, you.

They were right, I don't understand. But not because I don't how to love, its because that's not how I love. I love in nose kisses and **** grabs, in steamy texts and playful jabs at your brilliance. And yes, by god, you are brilliant. But I don't worship you. I just wish to be able to fall asleep to your face and stand by your side.

And those googlie-eyes are in no way how you love either. You don't rub my feet and call me princess. You kiss me hard and tickle my neck, read my writing and break me down when I'm irrational. But you do love me, still. You love me in the way that you try to understand and not be so stubborn. You love me in the way that you sing to me when I'm moody. And my favorite way you love me is the hand across the table when I'm fighting the tears I never want to let fall down my face.

Love isn't just about adoration and attraction and compatibility. Yes, we are attracted to each other, admire each other, and are compatible enough. But I guess our best asset is how stubborn we are to keep on loving each other that gets us through. And I think that's my favorite way we love each other entirely.

Maybe love works different for other people, and I'm fine with that. But these winters just seem to show me that we're different. We both know we've always been different. You're the lonely genius and I'm the unstable creative. But I help make you less lonely, and you help make me more stable.

And now I find it hard to picture a day without you.


So winter distance may keep us apart, but I think I've learned by now its going to take a lot more than a little distance to tear us apart. Or maybe its just the stubborn in me saying so.

Regardless, I hope the stubborn in you thinks so too.

I was taught that being stubborn
is a virtue that every young boy should have,
that to decide how you govern
your life and your path.

I was taught that being stubborn
is simply a way to be,
that wanting and yearning
provided my journey's fee.

I was taught that being stubborn
was a sign of respect, of pride.
Unlearn all that'd been thought
and learn all from inside.

I was taught that being stubborn
would create a wall around me,
a nocturne of darkness
for which only i could see.

Now i am alone, all stubborn and virtuous
wishing for a chance.
but this disease is cure-less
Through no other circumstance.

striving for simplicity
has starting seeming
quite similar to settling
for much, much less.
i suffer this stubborness
       like some plague;
some ***** scared of searching
for a saviour, or a cure,
unwilling to forgo the laws
that make him shout, 'impure!'
or 'unclean!' or 'run away,
******* run away!
i am death and his son hopeless,
and we've come out to play.'
an answer waiting underneath
every leaf and stone
and every molecule he breathes
on the wind when he's alone,
tickling his seeping wounds
and begging him to see . . .
i'm here, i'm here . . .
look here . . . see me.
but instead of living hopefully
looking for answers
that want to be seen,
just writhing in pain at the sting of the breeze,
and cursing and moaning
and spraying forth death
so stubborn and stupid with every breath
that's me, that's me . . .
that's me . . . that's me.
a *****'s disposition
on a long dead, lifeless heart
afraid of hoping for a change,
a cure, a fairy's pond
stubborn like a stone
so stupid and stubborn with every breath . . .
a glass of porter left behind on the bar,
flat and forgotten,
forsaken, weak, and wasted . . .
that's me, that's me . . .
that's me . . . that's me.
so stubborn and so selfish,
never reaching, never finding
the simplicity i supposedly
believed might save my life . . .
an excuse to surrender
and to squander and forsake
every opportunity
that would ever come my way
until my talents are just rusty tools
in the back of some toolshed
in some swamp in new new orleans
in the background of my head.
i have long since lived too many years
to believe i am owed more
and i have yet to do one single thing
that's been worth fighting for,
and sticking to and seeing through
and working at until
it pays off and releases me
from my hopeless, bankrupt will.
a ***** with a strange and stubborn
sense of salvation
my days are leaking right through my skin,
and dripping their decaying death
along a trail stretched out behind me . . .
a path that's leading nowhere,
made from nothing, with no one along its way . . .
potential in hunks littering both sides
in different stages of decay.
stubborn, and selfish,
but some will must still remain
in the corner of some toolshed
in the bog that is my brain.
a cleansing of the soul, or a
katrina of the mind
my freedom must be lurking somewhere,
for i am still alive.

You call me a stubborn child like it's a bad thing
But have you ever asked yourself where I got it from?
I probably got it from you
You're ******* stubborn too

Memories and moments we made
Are plastered in my mind
I try to let them go
But they won't budge and are
Engraved like your name in my soul

Stubborn as my heart is
When it comes to let you go

A whirlwind of emotions
The craziness of this heartbreak
Has taken away the tranquil I once possess
And made me a mess I can't save

Stubborn as my soul is
Which can't seem to let you go

I made peace with myself
Told myself I was not enough
But in the silence of the nights
My mind wanders to the happy days
And a question pops'what went wrong?'

You left with just just a line
'It's not you it's me'
As if it was enough
To forget the good ole' days and breathe

Stubborn my mind, my soul, my heart
Which just want to hold onto you
And torture me with all your
Sweet, beautiful reminiscences.

I don't know why I love you at all
I might as well be in love with a wall
You're so stubborn my love
But its hard to ignore you
You're too stubborn
But I simply adore you

A stubborn heart is deadly. It has the ability to short circuit the brain, exhaust all the sanity in you, crush your spirits, exhume every bit of sanity from the deepest recesses of your body. It can wipe out dreams of fairy tale endings, change your views on life and love --- turning you into this most cynical person alive. You tend to expect more...to your utmost disappointment in the end.Nevertheless, it brings about an exhilarating kind of joy that makes your being come alive. It brings that ultimate enjoyment of loving without hesitating to give your all. Bottomline, it feels good. It feels **** good.Oh if only the latter would happen more often --- forever if possible. Wishful thinking, yes. In the meantime, I'll just nurse this stubborn heart. Might be all it takes to disarm that stubborn man in his own makeshift loveless world. - Feb 25, 2010...for a dear friend

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means   mountain   boys   true   stars   learn   sliced   naive   decided   player   actually   reality   ease   music   hood   desperate   promise   wishing   begin   miss   caressing   moan   thighs   heard   pretty   emotion   figure   floor   exotic   sand   hits   angel   awake   dreaming   probably   wins   seek   stretch   loved   tears   heartbreak   punk   walking   piece   furniture   unreachable   roots   near   deserve   simple   cats   tail   precious   lovers   loves   mother   tongues   clueless   share   taken   yesterday   faith   freedom   ripe   cursed   running   yes   unknown   feeling   going   stairs   opposite   wonder   afloat   packed   bones   acting   playing   wind   passions   dismissed   hourglass   reached   stares   mouths   singing   shaped   trapped   toll   dies   rock   trunk   discovered   especially   dull   choice   awful   patient   great   indoors   attached   thread   shoulders   warms   bright   bring   ending   drowning   sadness   winter   baby   looked   cute   beating   tight   kids   crying   ran   intoxicating   growing   saying   opposites   melancholy   gives   follow   clearly   dove   tu   soon   entwined   juicy   drown   laid   took   moved   bear   anyways   shirt   negative   clean   guide   sore   location   faux   nodded   glance   caught   chances   week   started   today   obvious   sweat   ***   quiet   laughed   worry   round   ladies   mama   smack   goodbye   rising   sides   wished   beds   infinite   positive   scared   admittedly   mistakes   meal   common   rises   toes   bullets   bound   suited   birth   clothes   belt   pounds   ground   barren   sitting   table   woe   swimming   stick   deepest   motion   cleared   sing   angry   action   sons   smiled   bedroom   wall   wiped   grins   mad   july   store   road   snow   pulse   important   adventure   exactly   foundation   trap   colors   floors   neon   outside   language   summer   north   fifty   served   wavy   kick   raw   thirty   row   changed   hanging   lied   drenched   companion   begins   strength   flies   direction   okay   stories   inky   stubborn   cloud   track   described   lover   replaced   pit   packs   circling   honest   wage   dinner   slave   paradox   faking   screamed   lightning   exterior   stopping   complete   deal   rifle   dependent   gifts   dancer   vision   students   horror   punch   anymore   pack   sagging   folk   honestly   tearing   prepared   creatures   listening   rhythm   unique   roar   card   glass   stage   desert   offered   fought   suffer   awoke   master   eating   furnace   glad   choir   graceful   *****   treasure   ships   bark   musical   strand   bee   finished   pink   slink   stronger   disclose   gravity   schedule   march   medicine   hates   weird   brush   laughs   helped   june   pitched   dumped   tense   sin   withdrawn   stem   proved   whispered   anew   amazing   louder   english   knocked   chilly   boots   false   mistake   toffee   whistle   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haven't   what's   you'd   they'd   man's   boys'   god's   woman's   fruit's   orion's   newton's   lincoln's   adam's   momma's   ******   jackson's   audis   dulces   disproportionately   charon's   deseos   avocadoes   hailey   eran   beatles'   ingles   he   she   it   rackets   --   hashtag   sixty-three   duct-tape   joysticks   sherman's   15   6th   32   500   7th   2013   extraño   barenaked   tamales   6-year-old   tierras   derpy   ewell   rom-com   themit's   adan   mudpits   puddlepits   war--hell   culp's   shitpits   completaron   chocolatada   levantanse   duraznos   n'sync   huevo   cholitos   levantaron   manzanas   endurece   wozniak's   dispara   nuez   open-endedness   innies   cankles   dunder-mifflin   tunks   buck-toothed   outies   grief-blown   a-gawking

Stubborn boy
Let loose the shackles of your smile
This world is far too holy for you to
Hide that half halo of your grin

The sound that comes in the crumbling
Of your childhood is the same one
That speaks in the secret wanderings
Of your soul
So listen close

When we walked around
The old bronze heart of this city
I wish you could hear
The rising pitch tuning
Of your veins as it readies
You to perform inside the
Same arena as a thousand
Broken down Cleopatras
Playing with snakes

Stubborn boy
Succumb to the silver smile
This city speaks in
A language I will never know
I am a scholar
That studies only the whispered
Tongues of crescent streetlamps
But you
You can learn all the languages
That have ever crashed into the moon

Close that book you have buried you eyes in
And in this city plant
The waiting bud of your billowing heart
So it can blossom like flames of windswept cherry trees
While there are still days left in spring

Stubborn boy
They taught you how to sing
And you memorized the melodies
Of such foreign stars
Open the cannon of your throat
This world is a two bit theater
That buries bodies
In the same seats they were born

But you
Son of a thousand
Secret subway duets
Will one day find yourself
Sitting next to the soul of this city

And she
She will ask you to sing for her
And you
You will learn why the tides chase the moon