I love you more than all the technology
And more than pigeons lactate,
More than you enjoy biology
And sharks that procreate.

More than misogynists swim in shoals
Or a ******* loves a good beating.
Manchester City scoring goals
Or the lines that you love repeating.

Music cannot compare with your laugh;
Your beauty can’t be “aliquot-ed”.
Rarer than rhinos on a graph,
Your infinite charms can’t be plotted.

Sweeter than berries picked in a storm
And softer than a duck’s downing,
Your poetic love keeps me warm -
Be the Bob to my Liz Browning!

Hindsight blues,
I'm tangled up in you but you can't see through the overgrowth -
Thick bristles and whistle blowers,
Tell me your perception of me.

Let's laugh together at the discrepancies,
Don't expect more from me,
You know me better than that,
aristocratic nature, I hate where you come from,
That comfortable turf.

I can't be myself in your world,

Solipsism - listen we can only shine on reflection vision and that takes more than you or I alone.

Still tripping,

Tangled up in you.

Old gentle vague dark sea
stars uncoffined above
my drummer grave
blind of age,
meet Mr. Numb Feelgood
he is dying - chasing smoke,  
following a blind parade
wanderin’ anywhere forked like Yes
at every dusty, homely, strange-eyed landmark
until driven deep down dead

Dear old diamonds,
my sleepy southern song spell fades ,
my past was a young clown
dancing, swingin' my magic heels
raging and cursing death’s grip on time

Now, I feel that morning’s fierce burn
vanishing into a tambourine memory
and I’m caught madly dreaming
against the ragged anywhere
to return green tomorrow

Dark haired, blue eyed,
a starry lady’s dream-
but you hide in your hole,
and wheeze out a whiny song
on your harmonica

At 8 pm I'm in my room just quite alone
I am strumming Bob Marley reggae
And in my head I paint a painting on the wall
A man is driving on a highway
It looks the same, it is on replay

I feel quite warm when thinking replay of a kiss
A kiss a boy can only give away
But when I try, the time moves on, though I resist
When do I start, I need a new day
It's not the same it's not on replay

The man drives on and on but finally he stops
He meets a woman in a driveway
They're driving fast, at last their got stopped by the cops
Their love are strongest on the highway
They'll always wish this day on replay

I clearly see his eyes, reflecting his in mine
Though it sounds kind of like a cliche
I confidently said "we don't have to define"
But lately it feels like a dismay
I really need that day on replay

At 8 pm I'm in my room just quite alone
I am strumming Bob Marley reggae
And in my head I paint a painting on the wall
A man is driving on a highway
It looks the same, it is on replay

Leaving Minnesota on train or buses,
crowded and alone, were you fearful
to sleep on couches and of the Village
people with a rhapsody of dreams

and cacophony of chords, under rain
and sewer stank was it hard,
to step inside and play
the first time for glistening eyes
and stage lights and to let melody
escape your belly-throat

for them, or did you know
more, that words can sculpt
delicacy as smooth
as Donatello and that life can be bought
without wrinkled greens and pressed

threads? Walking under a hard-rain
of assumption and change, did Greenwich
birth a demon-sadness, so you hid
your neck beneath collars and dark
glasses and smoky rhyme, when the ship

comes in will you be onboard or escape
to Louisiana, misunderstood, working
a river boat after you give Lennon
a puff and Warhol a tight-fist?

Did sad-eyed Sara send you back
leather spanish boots or forget,
and was Christ able to mend that
broken love, and did you later kick his idiot
wind away and in 2009 on stage when I could
see emptiness and heartbreak
hidden underneath your creased stetson,
were you still singing
it ain't me, babe?

Bob had a kid, Bob had a wife, Bob had a job and Bob had a life

Bob was always happy, Bob was never sad, sometimes Bob got angry, but it was always just a fad

There he was. Bob. The perfect guy, never did drugs and never got high, never made a person cry

But one day....

A vending machine fell across Bob's chest.. Bob was paralyzed, a vegetable. He layed in the hospital, hooked up to a machine.. keeping him alive.

He watched as his friends and family debated over shutting off the machine that Bob was attached to, and **** him. He watched his own mother give the "ok" to the doctor.. he watched the doctor shut off the machine.

Bob was a model human.. he never got to hug his kids goodbye, he never got to tell his wife he loved her one last time.

Bob died a horrible, sad, lonely, painful, torturous death.

THERE IS NO GOD.

It was not love that struck me first.
Before anything else,
it was an arrogance that
overwhelmed my senses,
so I held my nose
to keep out the stench and
went on my way.
I ignored you and
let you exist in your
perfect little multilingual corner,
thinking it too put together and
not for me at all. It was
dull and silent and
no one could dance there.

Then, one morning,
while a foreign language
spoke in jazz in my head,
you expressed the complexity,
the utter chaos of
one molecule slipping into another
and weaving the majestic
world of science that
baffles and amazes
even the brightest of minds.
You opened your mouth
and love hit me harder
than ever before as I realized that
you,
just like me,
wanted to figure out
the math of the world and
solve the equation.
How could that not ensnare me
in an awful trap of trying
to not only calculate the world,
but to also dissect you and
determine what you are made of
and what fuels you?

After that,
you became a rush of Golden Years1,
a reminder that,
“dearly beloved, we are
gathered here today
to get through this thing
we call life”2,
an extraordinary personification
of old time rock ‘n roll3,
and an interpretation
of the love that stays
even when summer is over4.
The music danced through my veins
like never before because you
were all of those things
and more!
Anyone could ask me about you,
(Oh, dear, what is he really like?),
and I would just sing for them
and hope they understood.
How could they not?
If they really listened
to all of those lyrics and really
let the notes slip across their skin
and sink into their pores,
they could know you.

But melodies change.

Without warning,
I am held back
by your
darkness,
not because you
inflict it upon me,
but because
you shelter me from it.
You want to
save my light,
so you refuse to
let me see inside,
afraid to lose it,
afraid the demons
will take it away5.
That is the melancholy tune
that changed
your definition
in my dictionary.

You are the lesson of betrayal.
A bittersweet song
which reminds us all to realize
your savior can also be
your captor
and executioner6.
That is a lesson
you learned the hard way,
though you never really say how.
You hide it beneath
the rhyme and reason
that is senseless poetry.

Not to be repetitive,
but you are music
only I can hear.
The genre is always changing,
but you are always demanding
space in my ears, a clamor
of so much to dance to
with wild abandon.
The endless noise often hurts,
often makes me curl up in a ball,
begging for silence.
But, when it unifies...
when it slows down...
when it decides what to be,
even if only for a few seconds,
you are the
most beautiful thing
in the world to me.
Those are the moments
when you are one song
and I can see you
for just a second
before all the others
demand attention and
obscure the real music that
follows the beat of your heart.
This is when I am head over heels
and I have to beg you not
“to take my heart,
don’t break my heart,
don’t, don’t,
don’t throw it away.”7

How incredible
you really and truly are.
You are a soundtrack and
you come in different volumes.
I swear I want nothing else
from you than to just listen,
slip on my headphones
and submerge in the
raucous of sound and composition
that is you.
I can’t always see you,
but I can always hear you,
and I will listen
until the day you turn it off,
the day when silence ensues and
you are
nothing
but the shell a great ballad
will refer to
as a
cause
to
smile.8

1. “Golden Years” by David Bowie
2. “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince
3. “Old Time Rock ‘n Roll” by Bob Seger
4. “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley
5. “Demons” by Imagine Dragons
6. “Miss Missing You” by Fall Out Boy (Specifically, the line: “The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger.”)
7. “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears
8. “American Pie” by Don McLean