Wake me up
From this promise
Of broken dreams
Echoing screams
From the King of cowards
The morning after
Calm and silent
Finding the wind
The final storm
Before moving on
Wake me up
From this nightmare
Of broken dreams
Echoing screams
In the night air
The wind calm and silent
Drama on the horizon
Waiting patiently
In this waiting room
Of pilled high regret
Wake me up
Tell stories with happy ending
Those good dreams
The ones no one remembers
But always wish for
Wake me up
From this promise
Of broken dreams
Echoing screams
From the King of cowards
Wake me up
From this nightmare
Of broken dreams
Echoing screams
In the night air
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
In this universe
In this universe
Is there a god?
Is there more than one?
Do they get together and watch us
From up above or down below
Do they watch in wonder
Testing to see how we react to the pain
Ambivalent when we are happy
Even when we don’t realize it
In our soul
Do they get together?
Place bets on the outcome
Fate a source of entrainment
Like children watching
Feeding at aquarium
Giggling in indifferent delight
Tumultuous voices
Echoing of the clouds
Staring at hypocrisy
Thinking we are the only ones
In this universe
As the past fly’s by
At the speed of light
Unnoticed into the future
Predestined as the gods
Laugh in silence
Preordained in our image
Is there a god?
Is there more than one?
Do they get together and watch us
From up above or down below
Do they watch in wonder
Testing to see how we react to the pain
Ambivalent when we are happy
Even when we don’t realize it
In our soul
Do they get together?
Place bets on the outcome
Fate a source of entrainment
Like children watching
Feeding at aquarium
Giggling in indifferent delight
Tumultuous voices
Echoing of the clouds
Staring at hypocrisy
Thinking we are the only ones
In this universe
As the past fly’s by
At the speed of light
Unnoticed into the future
Predestined as the gods
Laugh in silence
Preordained in our image
Monday, March 19, 2012
Walking through life
Walking through life
With a hole
To deep to comprehend
Ambivalent prodigal son
At the end of hope
Illusory estuary
In a suburban hive
Ambivalent devilment
In the eyes of nature
Fate speaks
Darwinian voice heard
Peripatetic migraine
Expensive to the soul
Hypocritical soliloquy
Ludicrous feudal rituals
Part of a prodrome
Pragmatic indifference
Carapace indignity
Metastasizingly proud
Receding horizons
Expected lagniappe
Foolish suggestions
Itinerant by nature
Incipient nauseas
Moral transgressions
Denigrate mischievous gauntlet
With a residue of anger
In the air
Walk away from the table of fate
The cards have been dealt
The bets have been placed
All you can do is laugh out loud
Walk away from the table
With a hole
To deep to comprehend
Ambivalent prodigal son
At the end of hope
Illusory estuary
In a suburban hive
Ambivalent devilment
In the eyes of nature
Fate speaks
Darwinian voice heard
Peripatetic migraine
Expensive to the soul
Hypocritical soliloquy
Ludicrous feudal rituals
Part of a prodrome
Pragmatic indifference
Carapace indignity
Metastasizingly proud
Receding horizons
Expected lagniappe
Foolish suggestions
Itinerant by nature
Incipient nauseas
Moral transgressions
Denigrate mischievous gauntlet
With a residue of anger
In the air
Walk away from the table of fate
The cards have been dealt
The bets have been placed
All you can do is laugh out loud
Walk away from the table
Friday, March 16, 2012
Spin
Spin the globe
See where it lands
Could it stop in Atlanta, George?
Birmingham, UK or Antioquia, Colombia
What would it be like to spend a week there?
Could you find what you’re looking for?
Maybe Queensland, Australia or anywhere in Spain
Would that answer all those questions?
That left everything empty
The globe spin stopping in mediocrity
Not the name on map
Huntsville, Alabama or Groningen
It's not the place that made you run
But what you lost within
Trying to fill the lost with air miles
Filling the well with images
From Romania, Brugherio or Bayern
Each place touching you
with all those smiles
from all those faces
the background the only thing different
reflected form those eyes
spin the globe
see where it lands
for distant places
pleased that you could land
Memories from Rome or Paris
And helping hands
Unaware they were rebuilding
This soul that was broken
Images pilled high
Pleased to touch every soul
Smiled at all the immaturity
Yet still willing to mend
Spin this globe
see If it stops spinning
someplace near
even those places call your name
It is not the places that rebuild
the people that make those names special
The images a bonus
A perk of life
See where it lands
Could it stop in Atlanta, George?
Birmingham, UK or Antioquia, Colombia
What would it be like to spend a week there?
Could you find what you’re looking for?
Maybe Queensland, Australia or anywhere in Spain
Would that answer all those questions?
That left everything empty
The globe spin stopping in mediocrity
Not the name on map
Huntsville, Alabama or Groningen
It's not the place that made you run
But what you lost within
Trying to fill the lost with air miles
Filling the well with images
From Romania, Brugherio or Bayern
Each place touching you
with all those smiles
from all those faces
the background the only thing different
reflected form those eyes
spin the globe
see where it lands
for distant places
pleased that you could land
Memories from Rome or Paris
And helping hands
Unaware they were rebuilding
This soul that was broken
Images pilled high
Pleased to touch every soul
Smiled at all the immaturity
Yet still willing to mend
Spin this globe
see If it stops spinning
someplace near
even those places call your name
It is not the places that rebuild
the people that make those names special
The images a bonus
A perk of life
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Descending into fog
Rationalizing fate
Dancing reality away
Does anyone notice all the disposable people?
Tip toeing near the edge
Staring at the abyss
Seeing their own reflect in the clouds
Everything is so clear up here
Above all the clouds
Sun sliding on the horizon
Descending into fog
Shadows elongate and submerge
As the temperature’s cold grip
Slowly blankets all that once was comforting
Bipolar distain
Dripping from those lips
The rhythm played out
Knuckles hit the bars of this cage
Knowing when to stop
As the words blend in colour
On the canvas of a page
Red dots of rage
Peek out from behind
The neutral blues of a calm sea
Highlighted in the ice grey clouds
The colours linger on a trouble horizon
Foreshadowing a life
Omnipresent schizophrenia
Everything is so clear up here
Above all the clouds
Sun sliding on the horizon
Descending into fog
Dancing reality away
Does anyone notice all the disposable people?
Tip toeing near the edge
Staring at the abyss
Seeing their own reflect in the clouds
Everything is so clear up here
Above all the clouds
Sun sliding on the horizon
Descending into fog
Shadows elongate and submerge
As the temperature’s cold grip
Slowly blankets all that once was comforting
Bipolar distain
Dripping from those lips
The rhythm played out
Knuckles hit the bars of this cage
Knowing when to stop
As the words blend in colour
On the canvas of a page
Red dots of rage
Peek out from behind
The neutral blues of a calm sea
Highlighted in the ice grey clouds
The colours linger on a trouble horizon
Foreshadowing a life
Omnipresent schizophrenia
Everything is so clear up here
Above all the clouds
Sun sliding on the horizon
Descending into fog
Friday, March 9, 2012
More Random Rumbling
Some stories have to wait before they are told is some cases till the story is finished unfolding the characters die or for the dust to settle. At the very least till the characters have changed so much that they will not be able to recognize themselves. Every writer knows this as they have judge the timing of the story for effect. This story is like in some regards. Life can change in a slit second from the water drop building up in a faucet that it takes to it falls to the drain. A life can change in that time. Respect, integrity and perception can be so different with the words of truth and pain it can cause. The effect can be felt for a life time and the life time of our children all in the search of fifteen minutes of happiness or what we thought was happiness.
The police officer says the recorder is off but you know it is not. The police offer can lie, break the law, to get forbidden fruit in this country and it is perfectly legal here. The room was once white now a little yellow with age as the stains of unknown substance line the floor and half way up the fifteen foot ceiling to the camera in the corner. There are hand prints three on four feet below it. The table is screwed to the floor. The two chairs are made of wood and steel and stained in veracious colors weight 15 to 20 lbs each. The camera stares un-relentlessly as the police officers words blare in my head.
Where are you from? Silence
Where did you get that passport? Silence
Are you Canadian? Silence
Do you speak English? Silence
Why did you have this in your bags? A photo is tossed in front of me. Silence
The chair flies across the room and crashes in the corner under the camera. The sound echoes off the sound proof walls ending up screaming in my ears like bullets in a battlefield biting into my already head splitting headache. Random references that I don’t understand still pop into my psyche of city names, and I can only answer with silence. Jean Paul’s words are there don’t answer any thing you will may have to recant later. All I can do is add to the stains on the wall. The words swim as the wheels touch the ground and the thrusters screech in the cabin.
The police officer says the recorder is off but you know it is not. The police offer can lie, break the law, to get forbidden fruit in this country and it is perfectly legal here. The room was once white now a little yellow with age as the stains of unknown substance line the floor and half way up the fifteen foot ceiling to the camera in the corner. There are hand prints three on four feet below it. The table is screwed to the floor. The two chairs are made of wood and steel and stained in veracious colors weight 15 to 20 lbs each. The camera stares un-relentlessly as the police officers words blare in my head.
Where are you from? Silence
Where did you get that passport? Silence
Are you Canadian? Silence
Do you speak English? Silence
Why did you have this in your bags? A photo is tossed in front of me. Silence
The chair flies across the room and crashes in the corner under the camera. The sound echoes off the sound proof walls ending up screaming in my ears like bullets in a battlefield biting into my already head splitting headache. Random references that I don’t understand still pop into my psyche of city names, and I can only answer with silence. Jean Paul’s words are there don’t answer any thing you will may have to recant later. All I can do is add to the stains on the wall. The words swim as the wheels touch the ground and the thrusters screech in the cabin.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Wondering
Wondering connections
Eternity can be five seconds long
If the relationship is lame
Receiving mail from decay
Decomposing meanings
Measuring life in a glass
Enjoying feasts of sound
Another day cascades
Never is along wait
In this song
Needing something even when it is a mistaken
Gifts for the soul
Words can make the tears drip
Order the letters just so
Reflecting on their meaning
Deceiving in the silence
Sending one to laughter
Eternity can be five seconds long
If the relationship is lame
Receiving mail from decay
Decomposing meanings
Measuring life in a glass
Enjoying feasts of sound
Another day cascades
Never is along wait
In this song
Needing something even when it is a mistaken
Gifts for the soul
Words can make the tears drip
Order the letters just so
Reflecting on their meaning
Deceiving in the silence
Sending one to laughter
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