I keep listening to time Beating hearts and endless rhymes And it all sounds so sublime Much more real than the last wind And my records just keep spinning With the earth and every new thing Now we're back to where we started But it's different, clouds have parted It made so much sense before But every day it just makes more Now I start to understand As the sand falls through my hands Making gestures small and grand As we all keep getting older Through the chaos and disorder No sense pining in the oak groves For the flowers that we once knew At the bottom of our dark brews Bitters floating on the surface As I drink another purchase And reflect upon the purpose Of each sip as it slides down Always forwards, never backwards Only rising never pouring, Twirling, twirling, twirling, soaring! Doesn't matter if you're gripping If you're sweaty, if you're slipping If you're wide eyed, always tripping We all keep trucking on And I always feel so strong Like I understand the song Finally, but not for long
"Taking away, the moments that make up the dull days." ~07/07/2021
I've got a little black book, with my poems in it I've got the wind to rock me to sleep I've got a perpetually dying radio That brings the news to me I've got everything I need up in this tree This tree I live in on my own I've got books and **** and mobile phones I've got a little two burner stove I've got a bright new perspective And every new day I know that I'm not all alone There are squirrels, and birds And bugs up here It feels like everybody is home.
Some reflections and an homage to Pink Floyd. My little sister once told me I'd have to leave that tree and face the real world someday. I dunno, the world felt pretty real to me while I was up there. ~2012/2013 Reworked this a little bit, I think it's finally come around.
When I am alone the dark thoughts return. You don't know me. Like parasites they rot me from the inside out. Making me scream inside. Death is my master. Sitting on a storm playing puppets with my emotions. Controlled calculated movements. A darkness in my eyes. I'm trying to grasp reality but only capable of gasping anxiety. I'm trying mother but the waves are too high. Goodbye world. I've seen enough. "computer turn off."
This is made up. Not based upon me or anyone else. Inspired by Radioheads, Fitter Happier.
I travel trough the heavy rain I sit lonesome on a lonely train I play blues These days are grey, these nights are blue my mind keeps coming back to you I play the blues
I travel with desire Past houses lit on fire I play jazz Windows lit by sundown My train-seat old and rundown I play jazz
Rainbow roads in colored blurr Pretty little towns I'm sure I play swing Past mirror waves and open sky My stomach tingles, wonder why I Play swing
***** feet on ***** train Skin so white I see my veins I play punk Impatient taps and flickering lights Soon the day will turn to night I play punk
Head in the clouds, mind at ease Longing for the morning breeze I play Pink Floyd Memories hanging from branches Passengers sharing brief glances I play Pink Floyd
I'm coming home, I'm on my way, but I travel still... I travel not by force... yet not by will Music of choise as soundtrack to the silent film beyond the windowsill
I wrote this as a little homage to my lonesome travels. I fittingly wrote it on a train during sundown, but it's about my memories as a homeless teenager with no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go, just that I wanted to go somewhere and do something. It's also about that longing for someone I hadn't yet met, that empty space reserved for someone you know you'll eventuelly meet. Luckily, this time I was on my way home to that someone. I imagine this poem as lyrics to a jazzy tune. Maybe I'll get to try it out one day. I'm no great singer, but I'm reserving space for a trumpet solo in there somewhere.