Who pushes and prods
Who spares the rods
Who dreamed up the ageless
That created the gods

Who tempted at first
Who blessed and then cursed
Who prayed to the ageless
Turning better to worse

Who tried but tied last
Who never looked back
Who shattered the ageless
Then fell through the cracks

Who can't but still hopes
Who narrowed the scope
Who questioned the ageless
Till dreaming awoke

Who knows what to do
Who'll follow this through
Who called to the ageless...
The ageless calls you

i found a little little lot
a little lofty lingered thought
a little more a little shot
a little less if less is not

i guess a little little more
could hope the little lessens for
and learned a lighter little score

I might get little in return
but little gained is little earned

a little better
a little less
a little
little
little
mess

I just wanna tell simple love stories and play a guitar
I gotta sow up the future to suture the scars

It's not obvious, at least not to us
It's not expected either, we never learned to sing or play guitars, or even attempt to be simple... and that's how the future really happens. That's how the skin grows rough to cover the wound.

I stopped reading dostoyevsky today
the blackness of hope
clapping for the crowd's sake
I just can't seperate the world that may be
from the world that can't be

I think I'll try some lighter subjects
perhaps some sci-fi or maybe short stories
the lump in my soul is probably benign
I'll have my shrink check it out
then again, maybe that's just the multi-verse
escaping through barely breathable cracks
(where did i put that key again?)

I tried to sleep it off last night
I woke in the wrong century
who knows what will happen in the morning
what steps lead to emergence
from the world that is

Meet the Man Out Beyond the Tree Line


We are war with the past forgotten; war for concrete edges.
We cannot feel or fail the forest, though destined to battle there.

White and grit like bone
Lost and found like home
Product of the unproductive
Won't be led but shown

We are peace no comfort lasting, peace in simple soulless shells.
We’ll secure a sainted sentry, to survey on our sleeping will.

Grey washed filter screens
Centered in the in-between
Cityscaping soil scraping
Man in making broke machines

We are at the dawn and waking; dawning over tree line breaks.
We have rustled steel and wire, to sow fleshly frames in fertile days.

...
I am less and sentimental
Beginning strong and thinly gentle
I’ve kissed your scars, your knees, your dimples
You fed me full; a fine utensil

I’m nothing more than interested
We’ve danced and fallen fully crested
Raised the babies wrenched and reckless
Fought to failure better bested

I am older, slower, pacing
For you all catching’s in the chasing
So run and slip and end embracing
We love in pen with no erasing

I am carefree castle building
Laid the floors and traced the ceilings
Kingdom come, thy done be willing
Our little deaths brought many healing

I am fixed in longing after
Found all my calling gazing at her
Dreamed of onyx, pearl and jasper
All pale in lives so set in laughter

I am, with you, all conceited
Our hearts entangled undefeated
Whispered, screamed, washed, repeated
We made all of love, and all was needed