Slide show

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Long trail



Long trail
Once the people
The same blood
The womb in time
Felt on the other side
Butterflies dancing in smoke
Continents apart
Singing a funeral song
Along a long trail of tears
Scars from such a track
One more story to be told
From the tribe of humanity
Over the divided
Following the trail
Walking to the future
All of us a little blind
Pressing the horizon
Don’t know where we are going
But we all know where we have been

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Silly boy



Silly boy
Driving to fast
Crazy abandonment 
A matter of time 
Before the crash

Silly crazy little thing
Nothing stops the outcome
Picking up the pieces
She smiled
Driving so fast

Silly crazy fool
So much time
Never an enough
She said hi
All before the crash

Silly boy
Trying to get there
Before time ran out
She answered maybe
Drove to fast

Silly boy 
Driving to fast
Knowing it wouldn't last
She never looked back
Trying anyway


Thursday, February 21, 2013

Hypothetical Parapraxis

Is there a hypothetical dishonesty

The transmogrification of the sublime
Spinning of the Chantilly clad
Leisurely transforming to the grotesque
Ideals rotating in the clouds
Hand cuffed to history
Appearances covered with a mask
Scenarios falling like cheerios
At a breakfast table of the very last
Filling this need to categorize and organize
Sigmund would laugh and Jung would giggle

The potential of the Latin dance
Free instructions in a hazy light
Music talking to your insight
Wanting to lead but allowing others to guide

Spinning nothing into hours
Brilliantly squishing the life out of this soul
Crushing it softly and splashing it with sound
Couples rhyming as the hips move about

Is there a hypothetical honesty
The sublime transmogrification of dishonesty
The soft splashing sound of spinning
The Chantilly clad perceived as normal
Soft controlled anger bubbling
Transforming the grotesque to lopsided smile
Hand cuffed to yesterday
At this table of the less then wise
Filling this need to categorize
Laughing at all the parapraxis

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Ambivalent



Ambivalent
Callous conscience
People make  plans
The gods laugh
Waiting to hear the silence
Alerts of opportunities lost
 Lurking on the edge of darkness
No  Escape from paradise
The walls are to high
Everyone is sorry about something
As a cowboy rides a trail
His horse high stepping in the snow
Clinging on his lifeline
Head hanging low
Snow builds even on his hat 
Covering in white
What once was black
Hand not gripping the colt 45 this time
Army issued in 62
Some wars never end
Chasing ghost in the snow 
The Air is cold 
frozen above the ground
So cold it crackles 
The cowboy brings his head up
Just to spit icicles 
    

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Distraction between exits

Distraction between exits
God holding you in his fist
Where young men die
On the other side of anger 
A fist to tight
The earth sucks blood up
It should have been 
But it wasn't 
Coin in the karma bank
A trip on your own
To the Devil's bank
White smoke between chalk lines 
An account on the blame game
Distraction between exits
Being held in the palm
Hoping it is not to tight
Sounds a little crazy
Hope in a box
Buried six feet deep
 concealed in obscurity

Friday, February 15, 2013

Testing fear

Testing fear

Jumping out of airplanes
Adrenaline rush to heights
All fun till you burns your eyes
Scarring you inside
Where no one sees the signs
Tumbling around a dryer
The drinks frozen in midair
Hear it first before bones crunch
Then life is a blur
Blending screams, faces and time
Slowly waking to immobile pain
A sensory deprivation chamber
Black empty sound
Blinding burning light
A voice screaming
I think it is my own
Between blackness and light
Calm words making sense
Dodging coyotes in the rain
Dancing truck on ice
Sheepdogs saying that’s the way it is
So you decided to rejoin us
Where have been
You died on the table
Now you been found

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Atlantis

Searching for Atlantis

Searching for one
Finding the smell of Angels repulsive
Burning my skin
The fire burning in her eyes
As the sun sets on all the tall buildings
Shining in a yellow after glow
Her voice so imperceptibly low
It is your fault I hurt inside
It is your fault I feel this way

Finding Atlantis
On the flip side past paradise
The fire burning in her eyes
the sun setting on the building
turning from yellow to a fire red
setting on this city
as life is to the dead
Her voice barely audible
It is your fault I hurt inside
It is your fault I feel this way

The words to a song
Faintly heard in a mall
Singing along because we could
The images of me were gone
before we parted company
Sticks and stones
But some words stick
Her voice very clear
It is your fault I hurt inside
It is your fault I feel this way

Finding Atlantis
On the flip side of paradise
The fire burning in her eyes
the sun setting on the tall building
turning from yellow to a fire red
setting on this city
as life is to the dead
Her voice so low
It is your fault I hurt inside
It is your fault I feel this way
I let you guide me in this free fall
You were never dependable
when you should have been
you were never here
when you could have been
It is your fault I hurt inside
It is your fault I feel this way
I let you guide me in this free fall

Sticks and stones
Will break my skin
But her words touched me
In that voice barely audible
Her eyes burning
That voice so very clear
A Look you could swim in
Her voice so imperceptibly low
You could breathe it in
It is your fault I hurt inside
It is your fault I feel this way
I let you guide me in this free fall
You were never dependable
when you should have been
you were never here
when you could have been

Monday, February 11, 2013

Taxing Hope



Taxing Hope
Slapping money down
A hundred at a time
An illusion in this life
In a land of lies and half truths
Life never gives what you want
Leaving one unsatisfied 
Making all the mimes happy
Taxing hope
Slapping money down
An Irish lad
Old as the land
Eyes tinted 
With the glossy stare of solitude  
The mystique of the invisible
Your quota of luck burned
Fist therapy ineffective 
Punch drunk surreal
 Maneuvering a slow dance 
Subtle encounter 
 The strength inside 
Slapping money down 
One hundred 
Two hundred 
Taxing Hope
Slapping money down
A hundred at a time
An illusion in this life
In a land of lies and half truths
Slapping money down 
One hundred 
Two hundred 

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Predictable



Predictable 
Turning away from life
Ending with a sentence
One last period
No more hiding behind a pen
Putting down ink
Picking up gloves
Lacing them up tight
Facing any foe
With elbows in tight
Predictable chaos 
Nothing happens right
Some will scream
And never fight
Freedom of those restrictions 
Tormented by abstract contracts 
Leaving the cloudy 
For the blue open sky
Nothing goes as planned