Imagine

Imagine there is anarchy.

Everyone's insane.

Buy today, pay tomorrow.

Credit card economy.

Imagine there is heaven,

You can get there if you pay.

Some new four-dollar sunglasses,

All the latest things.

Imagine all the people,

Living for today!

Imagine there's no planning.

LSD and no restraint.

Imagine all the money

It took to treat your STDs.

Imagine no commitments,

Come and go just as you please.

Imagine Yoko Ono

Breaking up your band.

Imagine old Vlad Lenin

In worker's paradise.

Imagine watered-down buddhism,

Mediated through drugged-up rock stars.

Imagine children singing

At the Olympic games.

You may say I’m alarmist

Or a hater, all the same.

But this song is creepy

Communistic bombast.

And if that’s not religion.

I really don’t know what is.

Erasing borders and unity is great.

Do we have to kill God along the way?

Hey hippie, what’s with all the hate?

Maybe that’s just what’s needed

To justify your way of life

Sleep with who you want to

Feel above them all.

Heaven and Hell

Weariness

hurt

oh

and there’s bullet holes in the road sign

marking mixed-up

i

Dame Vueltas

Para Dani, quien es un ejemplo de fé para mí.

Papá
Dame vueltas
Quiero sentir
Esta emoción
Otra vez
Yo sé que puedo volar
Contigo

Papá
Dame vueltas
Una más, una vez más
Yo no quiero estar en otro
     lugar que
En tus brazos
Abrazame fuerte

Papá
¿Que me cargas?
Estoy cansado
Sin esperanza
Hemos caminado más allá
Que mis piernas pueden

Papá
Dame vueltas
Volteame
Todo necesita
Cambiar mi corazón es
Tan duro
Y hay mucha basura
Adentro

Papá
¿Que me cargas?
Mis fuerzas no aguantan
Escalar montañas, hacer
     milagros, ver el cielo
     ni vivir con esperanza
Cargame en mi cansancía
Papá, dame vueltas

Stars

You asked me what I thought of when you said stars,

I said,

Switchfoot "When I look at the stars I feel like myself

When I look at the stars I see someone else."

Fun "When I see stars, when I see stars that's all they are..."

He's like having a crisis of faith, losing his faith.

David Crowder has a sort of worship song,
"You should see the stars at night..."  It's a really

Beautiful song too.

When I think of the stars I think about my mom and her

birthday the Perseids always peak around then one time in Cantonment

We sat out in the field with the T's and I was running for something

But we all saw it, some blasted piece of comet skipping across the sky

Leaving a blue flame before it burst in two and exploded. 

I think about my Father and when we camped with my brother on Mount Hood and

he was busy fiddling with the packs while my brother and I watched the sky turn day-bright with

a passing rock, dad's shadow fell on our sleeping bags, but he didn't even notice,

and we were stupefied that how he could've missed something so bright.

I think about my sister and how she got bit by a raccoon because my dad was feeding

The raccoons regularly even bought a dozen goldfish for the fountain on the back deck

And in the morning all but one scared timid fish was gone, anyway,

She loved those stars, and a raccoon bit her and she had to get rabies shots,

Running in Mexico beneath the stars was beautiful, and I needed it, but STUPID dogs,

I didn't get a rabies shot, but it's been six months now so I think I’m not dying.

I wrote a set of poems called "Wander the stars" about how when I die, I just hope that God lets me go wander through his art gallery, that if he’d let me look around through the galaxies and quasars that'd be awful swell...tell you what God, you let me do that, I'll write you some real poetry.  My Father's not the poetic type, he was a Major in the US Marines but one night I remember I was out back with my bare feet feeling the cracks in the paving stones like I always felt when I talked to Bethany and he came out and I asked him if God would let us, if he'd wander the stars with me, and he said he would, and well, I think of all the things a dad could do for a boy, that one was awful swell.

Remembering how I wrote those poems makes me miss something.  When I used to look up I used to lose my breath.  I remember in Ensenada Kyle and I spent a whole worship service not paying attention, we were just looking up and talking to each other about how beautiful the stars were, about how awesome it was that God made them.  I like that, I think that was one of the only real worship services I've ever participated in.  The thing is, near the coast, the marine layer and the humidity clouds the stars and it's hard to appreciate when you're used to Arizona or the Mountains...in Payson we'd sleep out on our grandparents' back porch and we'd count satellites, saying we'd have to see 10 or 20 before we went to sleep that night.  One time we slept out Kate got bit by so many mosquitos we thought she had chicken pox.  But the stars were worth it.

Now I spend much more time with the computer screen, and it seems like everything I was and had is something that I'm missing.  The stars' lost sheen, God's night air breath inside of me, Bethany's voice next to my well-worn pacing feet.  On the worst day of my life I looked up and desperately asked God if he would let me talk to her, just for a few minutes.  It was the end of my rope, and a hurricane had knocked all the cell towers out.  So a star blazed across in front of me and after that my phone got signal for ten minutes, and if that didn't save my life, it certainly let me know You're there and well, probably saved my parents the heartache of searching for a runaway.

The stars are like poetry, I've been running from them, I've been running from me, I don't know, they're just stars right??  Destiny is scary, love and heart scare me, poetry scares me, and the stars might be far away but they're ablaze and although I'd like to swim through them they would destroy me completely.

Last August my parents and I went out to the beach at about midnight for the Perseids, I fell asleep pretty quick but I saw seven or eight, I was sitting there wishing you would be there with me, that I could feel breath at my cheek, I fell asleep daydreaming.  We went to Giruliai a fateful evening later the next week...but no stars and an open car door almost took my head off, anyway, I wanted to say thanks, because tonight, even though I haven't left the building, the stars are burning brightly, you helped me see, you helped me sing.

 

Poet Boy

Poet boy,

You get your ass in gear and get going,

You won't have many days like today,

When you feel that fire in your belly,

Don't put out the wind,

Ya gotta write, or you’re gonna die.

You only get so many,

So many star-filled nights where the air

Fills you like a racing hot air balloon

Only so many shooting stars

And only so many of her soft smiles,

Before that pen of yours is no more.

And there will be plenty of days to get your work done,

Plenty of movie-watching days,

Put together that blog, and do your lesson plans,

Plenty of days where that soft mind of yours

Will lazily pick the path of least resistance

Speaking three languages, you've half a start in four more,

But poetry is the one that you've worked the hardest for,

And boy if you don't claim that bride of yours,

She's gonna leave you fast,

If you don't breathe this stuff, your stuff won't last,

So get it out, exhale while you still remember the words,

Exhale before you exhale no more.

food dye 473

her body reacts to something...we don’t know

what it is, but it makes her flinch,

it’s comic almost, tragic, she can’t control it,

sometimes she can’t sleep.

my friend’s mom, she got headaches for years,

until she realized it was msg.

my new friend, they gave her medicine, it stripped her

stomach, we went out and she couldn’t eat.

my friends warn me about eating the plants i pass on the street,

and perhaps, with the cars and feces and other stretch marks of

humanity, they’re onto something, but somehow i think, perhaps

it wasn’t so bad, to taste the trees,

rather than wondering what side effects,

might come from food dye 473.

Greensleeves

I don’t want your dollar sign,

I’ve travelled halfway around the world, trying

to get the smell of green weave off of my hands.

When I pass the trees, I try to rub as many leaves

as I can, sometimes, I pick up stones, just to feel

the grit on my hands, because the clean I can’t take

how clean everything is.   And inside is dirty.  This world is a hypocrite,

the lights telling you it’s always daytime when it’s not,

the straight roads trying to deny the interwoven textures of

God as patched onto dirt and rocks you’re sexy but you’ve got

so much so much makeup,

I’m not sure what’s you and what’s made up,

Your face is a pyramid scheme, your conscious clothing,

Trying to please,

Like a politician, please, plastic surgery, they act like the world

needs plastic surgery, straighten it out with concrete and golf greens

I think I need to climb up a tree and read like I did as a boy

When the purple “glue flowers” fell from the tree,

And I feel I’m stuck, I feel I’m sticking,

A needle carving the same vein old repeat,

My profane livéd liturgy.

You need to understand I will never be your prince or saint,

You can think what you want, but you can’t think that about me,

Sure, with a flash bulb and maybe some paint you could erase

the pimples and lines on my hands and face,

But that picture would only do me disgrace,
I’m a man, please don’t forget that,
I’m a man trying to be a boy again,

A boy trying to convince someone he’s a man. 

THE WORLD IS ENDING

It seems the world is ending
Everybody knows just when
Well you better get yourself ready,
Especially if you're post-trib.

Apocalypse is coming,
Yes friends, in case you hadn't realized.
This life on earth is fatal
And you are going to die.

And I guess my question is...
How does this change anything?

It seems the world is ending
Everybody's got their theory
Get the latest Bible conjecture
On who the anti-Christ might be

And I guess my question is...
Does this change how I'm living?

Be afraid, be very afraid,
Manipulative preachers, Christian book-sellers
Who use fear to sell your
Latest roll.
Fear will not bring about the life
That God is looking for.
Please read Jeremiah,
and shut your face-hole.

The world is ending,
The world is ending,
And my real question is this:
Why would that change my life?
Shouldn't I already be doing my best?
Shouldn't I already repent?
Shouldn't I already seek, if there is indeed a God,
The one who made the world?
The world is ending, one way or another,
I'm dying anyway.
What happens then?
I really DON'T know.
I reckon God's big enough to sort it...

Embankment

Embankment curves tube lines
I'm falling in love with strangers again in
Trafalgar Square, I want to take their picture
But I don't have the guts.
Spanish tourists long conversations
I make friends, but it's not the
exchange-information type of friends.

Alone five minutes after being found,
I went to see the impressionists again
and think of David Blackwood are my
memories printwork or abstract sketch?  Are facebook
friends really friends?  Beauty is in
the Eye the sunset slanting past the
Thames the garden greens but
I only see the Trafalgar stop-and-go,
smiles and sighs and to a lonely man
a conversation is oasis in a concrete
sand.

9th Fort

We made apple pie
From the ashes of holocaust victims;
It seemed fitting tribute, perhaps the best
That one could do
In the face of terrible evil
Nicely fenced, commemorated,
And overdressed in green grass.
A man was flying a kite over the memory stones,
I couldn't tell whether
It was a religious act or profane, I tried to make a serious face,
When his boy yelled something about flying
Into the air.

And what is death?  As all die,
Is a moment of death, a silence, proper?
Or, should death, if it be a crime, be celebrated or mourned
With signs of life?  Like dance?
On the other hand, no stone, however contrite, can make right
1000 shot in the head...and
50,000?
God is either sadistic or incredibly merciful, or...
The dead deserve it,
The dead are given rest,
The dead are gone.

World War II looks different here, perhaps more honest.
There is no triumph.
13% of a nation dead, not accounting for
Imported Jewry.
The Bolshevik rescuers, sent thousands to
Their own cold camps.
And we've put all this behind us,
For Eurovision, Lady Gaga, and
The latest touristic sensation,
Complaining how the old men drink.

Good-byes

Passing dashed yellow red sunset lines
Veins pulsing big top applause, in coloured canopy leaves
Our hands clasped together
Most all our lives, grey curtains grumble, the light falls,
In Autumn winds our daylight smile dies.

The Grey Lakes

Your eyes are like
A rainy day
Smooth mirrored lakes of
Greys reflected on greys
Your hands hardly tremble,
But your eyes
Thunderstorm, thaw, and
Bloom into
Laughing springs
Each day.

I don't think God listens to me.

So...I don't think God listens to me.
Cuz I really want to be perfect, but I still mess up.
I told him I'm okay if I don't get recognition,
Expecting that it would come.
I've sacrificed and embraced times of poverty, thinking
From here "Things can only go up"
I've left behind everyone I loved,
Saying "he'll provide."
I've thrown myself around the globe, denied myself, denied, denied,
Thinking some day we would make it,
Some day there'll be security,
I just had to GET there right?
And if I walk in faith, I'll certainly find an audience for my art, a spouse to love, a community that adores me, and at least, ya know, one or two of the things I want.

And he says my weakness is perfect,
He calls me to worship, and rebukes my desire for glory.
He shows me the example of St. Francis, and reminds me "Blessed poor, blessed poor in Spirit."
At best, says he, I'll earn a place,
As a toilet cleaner of the Lord, someone who knows his place,
And did what he was told.
Life isn't safe, and I've begged for peace, but shrunk away from the Lord.   I've prayed and prayed for joy, keeping him at arms' length until he forks it over.

And the end of all our journeying, is to realize, that all this time, we've been looking for that place where we began.  All this time, I've asked "where to?"  "What next?"  And He's says "Let me go with you."  I say, "we'll see I guess, it depends if things get stressful." I ask for safety, joy, and peace, He repeatedly says "I am."   He scoffs at my scrabbling for love and attention, and isn't impressed at all.

I mean, I pray all the time "You are enough" but I don't really mean it.  What I really mean is, I like the gifts you give me, and they haven't run out so far.  And I'm still terrified of my freedom, I'm terrified of submission, I'm not sure I could relive the pains that we've been through.

I know now You're my only hope, but give me five minutes, I'll hedge my bets.  You're the one I've been looking for all this time, but I so often reject Your advances.  I want things to be safe, and not to have to worry.  You say "Okay, don't worry" and I know better than to know that this will be an easy journey.

What have I on earth but you?  What have I in heaven but you?  You are my only hope and only fear, more than enough, I repent, knowing that you are merciful and loving, and that my complaints are just whining when the source of everything I truly sought for, is right here, as at every minute of my life, only a prayer away.

A Penny for Old Nate

Man you should listen some Cursive cuz
"We all know art is hard
When we don't know who we are"
And we're standing on a stage.
So now you got your number ones even though you
Know "Be Calm"
Was a far much more amazing song.

Perhaps I aim and miss, perhaps you're counterfeit,
But you know what makes you different is you sing with knees and guts,
I'm not trying to be snide, and you defs have every right,
To tie this round a stone, and aim, ignite.

What do you stand for?
I think that you should know.
And if you lost yourself well maybe you should
Quit the road.
You've got just this one life man,
And f* it, they're just fans,
They don't need you, they don't love you,
They're just looking for a trip.

What's left to lose?
You'd done enough so long ago.
Now what--you still trying--to prove?
Out the desert to that river
Self-fulfilling prophecy, chasing off your friends and you
Say it's all alright, then why you yellin bout it?
Seems you never made your way out to the sun.

Round and round the prickly pear
You're looking death right in the eye
Looking at the stars, but far too daft to pray,
Far too proud to try to heal and change.
And all your petty sins, yelling them out on the stage,
You know that you become the things you sing.

Accusations for a God
Because some prick says things ya don't like
Falling for the lie
That there are only two here sides,
Like we're all just
Saints and sinners lined up on both sides of the bar.
Man, it's time to grow up
And deal with stars out on your own,
Glendale's the burbs, you gotta get out to the rim.
Get a mirror and some fresh air,
You know, we're living in the sky.
Go pick a barfight with the devil or the Lord.

And as for your friends, well,
I don't know what they did,
But singing out this shit,
Ain't changing anything.
Got problems with the system,
Well, go get political,
Instead of singing bout one night stands
Like that makes your poetry better.
When you know, you know you know that's just what sells.
Yeah, you've been there now.
No heart, bright lights, I hope you don't lose your eyes.
If you really want to change well that's something that
You gotta choose yourself.
Or just grab another cigarette, some booze,
And sing about regrets until black carriage.

What do you stand for?
I think that you know.
Dollar bills and one-night thrills, regrets--
Pop music written well.
What's left to lose?
You've done enough so long ago,
You're always drowning out the desert of the soul.
Always losing control, in hopes that lets you off the hook.

What do you stand for?
I think you should know.
What do you stand for?
I think that you know.
What do you stand for?
I think that you know.

Dedication for a New Notebook

May the words
Pen to page
Be sharp in spirit,
Keen in edge.
Let them stay,
Not in some vague grasp at eternity,
But like leaves in autumn or
Flowers in spring give them
Their flash of glory.
Keep my tongue honest,
My heart alive,
Keep my eyes seeking the beauty in life.
Let me sing in sorrow, but also in joy;
Let the words be communion, church,
Community-forming and yet, if it be my place,
The double-edged sword.

Drop your words on my tongue,
Let me swallow them that
This ink will be my blood.
Curb my vanity, hone my craft,
I ask, but if you must take all else,
Teach me to love.

Passing

Wheels turning clockwork
Trying to keep keep up with the
Spinning spinning car tires the passing passing
Street signs
Cruise control
Constant stress
Trying to hold the fall apart in
But you need it,
You need the slow spinning
Street-dancing wet eyes
Unwind
Oh water, come in,
Water drown drown this
Mechanical breath the tick tick tick
To-do list train tyranny
That turns the stomach acid
Leaves that death in your mouth
And your head with that
"Who am I now?"
Help me to die,
Help, help me.

There's a cardinal on the wing
I hear his spirit beckoning
But don't see
Far too busy flapping flapping
Tongues and paged itineraries
To ever take wing
My heart is mockingbirding me
Singing the songs of concrete
The blues of lonely streets
I am a sign on the LA freeway
Everyone passing a stick man in a
Lexus cage hoping for crash or
Some community
Bumper to bumper and
I seem out of step
Asked you to dance long after the fact
No place to get a waltz in edgeways
Even in passing
Passing cathedrals, crossing
Passing through waters, dying
Passing, last rights, hail Marys
I am a wide receiver staring
Into the lights of
Space looking for spark
And new pace
Something more like the beat beat
Of growing grass or rocky streams
A steady pulse, a metronome
Of synchronicity.

Bread-winner

I'll be your old bread-winner
If you'll be my stepford wife
I'll go out and make-a-da money
Even wear a suit and tie
Long as you're there waiting
Barefoot with a pie
Oh I'll be your old bread-winner
If you'll be my stepford wife

I'll check all my opinions
At the altar, just to be safe
I'll pretend I don't have insecurities,
Who knows? I might even shave!
I'll be your DiCaprio
I'll work out five times a day
I'll be your Superman
If you'll be my playboy playmate

I'll go through all the motions
Just to make you feel okay
Buy you blood diamonds, kitchen towels,
And chocolate made by slaves
I'll be upstanding, play the game
Cross my fork right on my plate
I'll watch crappy chick romances
So you can feel escape.
I'll go to the oxygen bar,
Just in hopes that I could breathe.

If clichés are romantic,
You should dye your hair to blond.
Change your name to Jessica
And you can call me Bond.
I certainly wouldn't like you,
Might not even recognize you,
Oh I'll be everything you wanted,
When pigs fly out of the sun.

I guess if we're being honest
Commitment and tradition scare me
I'm afraid you'll be a boulder
Crashing right through my sails
I'm not saying that settling down
Doesn't sound alright with me
But picket fences don't serve no purpose
And I won't buy you a diamond ring.

But I'll be your background singer,
Your dear and closest friend
I'll take you on adventures,
When you're scared I'll hold your hand
I'll step on toes, make you angry,
Make you happy, make you sad,
And when the bananas go black,
I will make banana bread.

The Flesh

Oh dirty dirty word
You got in da dirt
Mud us mud lust air balloon
Life up oh my words
Become something me
Word teacher
Indweller in the holy community
We ain't much to look at
Holy?  Please.
Dirty pharisees
Dirty pharisees like me
Bonhoeffer says the word can't exist without
the Ink, the body us
Flesh for blood, spoken word
Rambling poetry of God
With all its rhythmic patterns and oddities
Incarnate in his iambs the lamb of lambs
Heart metronomics beating
With earth pulse
Spirit blood what a dirty word
What profanity
Cracked lips speaking
me.

Aircraft Carrier

Это все.
I would drop these heavy bags
Right now
If I knew I would die
Tomorrow.
The things we carry,
A bloody disease, a balloon of hot air,
Why do I assume I will keep on living?
Sea gull insanity prometheus fooling the deities.
The things we carry,
Wheelbarrows, bureaus full,
All the ticking-time-bomb gold watches,
Collected earthly possessions heaped
To be looted by thugs in spectacles and uniforms
Melted down or burning,
The things we carry
Anger, honor, shame
All the dropped calls,
Parent's blame,
What ifs and whys
We're all in line for a cold shower,
Ash and soap.
I should've called you sooner,
I should've knocked on your door
I could've said something differently,
Could've lost it all.
Why do I keep on
living? Could I be different?
How could I keep living,
While I split the plunder and pull the
Trigger, or worse, sit silent, sip death's tea
How could I be differnt from
The mayfly
Today live tomorrow die
No time for bucket lists' last good-byes
Just the blink blink drip drip blatt blatt of
The eye
Everything like leaves must die, light a candle,
Shadow I blearing away on a teardrop life
Flood playing for
An ark, a love, for air, for blood.
When I kissed you, I didn't think
I was the only one
Eye shutter to think, brain reeling
This passing photography my my memory
We'll be erased
At best might translate
Like some dull thud into afterburner,
An angel tongue.

LA Afternoon La Brea

LA, last of the day light
Panhandling, playing to get into the museum:
Art for art's sake.
The Russian mother is counting somersaults
Один, два, три, четыре
The evening sun slants towards me illuminating
Leaves laughter with light gleams

Couples kissing, why not me?
Rest a bit, sonny, please
Fossils, worries of life, tar pit sucking.

Today is a day alone,
but beautiful.
I kick myself over trivial things.
Soul sing, the day is lovely,
I don't care if you're
Dehydrated you had tacos today
From a place that has New York Subs and Kimchee
American glories.

A perfect breeze, a малчик laughing
Let it be, let it be
Space and Japanese photography.
Oh the kindnesses of strangers,
I got to sing,
And although I climbed a hill in hopes of seeing
The Hollywood sign for Squeaky,
What foolishness,
There is grass beneath me with far more beauty,
Far more worth committing to memory.

So let Мама chase the giggling,
Let the girl on the bench read,
Leave the lovers to their kissing
Might be a little smoggy, but sky's still blue,
Breathe a little, buddy.

Lord, Forgive

My arrogance, in which I am slow to seek you
My lust, in which I desire all else but you
My fear, in which I shrink from you and your call
My worry, in which I strive and flail
My selfishness, in which I consider myself better than others
My pride, in which I ignore my need and my community
My greed, in which I don't find you or anything else enough
My thoughtlessness, in which I am quick to hurt and offend
My frustration, in which I complain and stress
over trivial things
My apathy, in which I choose not to feel for fear that compassion or
caring will overwhelm me.

In all these things Lord,
I have shown myself foolish, calloused, and
downright rebellious.

You are certainly enough
My life, my breath, and my true love.

Poeting

I want to taste that sun-blobbed ink on my tongue again,
Swallow it down like a toasted starburst,
A explosion of coloured sound from the mouth
That iron taste of blood at the lip,
I want to get in the ring,
Corona, rays soaking skin
Warming the moist soil within
And as the smoke begins to curl,
The ignition begins to turn,
The words come, bring it on,
I've gnawed Dillard's universal jagged leaves
For what seems like eternity,
I've gotten busy living,
But it's time to listen and speak
Raise the sails and see where the breath leads,
It's time, taste
The metal to the mouth,
The cracks and bends of the bone shop,
Knitting syllables into threads into sunlight into
the work lines in my palms poetry.

Barbie Weather Lady

The weather lady looks like barbie
It's pretty disturbing
Teeth human as quartz,
A face as plastic as polystyrene
She looks good in Business Casual
Plays the knowledgeable airhead,
And tells you if the sun will burn your head.

Maybe the weatherman's always wrong
Cuz he's too busy with the look that he's got going on.

My friend Anzielika (song)

My friend Anzielika
Is wiser than most
She sits behind me piggyback
And sings us birthday songs
Because after all, she was born 12 years ago
And now the celebration
Is something we all share
So she names us off--as she goes

Happy birthday to James
Happy birthday to Kate
Happy birthday to Steve
Happy birthday to Diana
Happy birthday to Skaiste
Happy birthday Miškas
And in case you're wondering
Miškas is the cat

My friend Anzielika
Is smarter than most
She uses words when she needs to
But often just lets them go
Because a smile, a laugh, an exaggerated HMPH!
Is more than enough to communicate
Important things like love

And she goes a mile a minute
From one thing to the next
She's got a zest for life--that could
Hardly be matched
She's fun and crazy, stern and smart
But best of all
She's my friend

My friend Anzielika
Is wiser than most
She let us know what she thought
Were the presents she had got
And she said

James, my present
Kate, my present
Steve, my present
Diana, my present
Skaiste, my present
Miškas, my present
And in case you're wondering
Miškas is the cat

I can spend a lot of time thinking
On what I haven't got
But time and presence are in fact
The greatest gifts of all

Face Music

I will invent a machine that will play the music
That your varied faces make,
So that when you are gone,
I can hear them all, your smiles,
Your frowns, your smirks, your winks,
Otherwise my memory won't serve me,
And your absence will feel too heavy.

It will also compose the thoughts and glances of
strangers, filtering those that pass
into violin arpeggios and piano notes,
Spanish guitar and keyboard tones
In my headphones,
Taking into account the details
Like raised or furrowed eyebrows,
The shapes of noses and chins,
The spreading lines of smiles and worries within.

And when I lay in bed,
The music repeats itself softly,
Trying to resolve the horns of disdain
The clashes loud in hate,
Lingering over a murmuring, lingering glance
Where a passerby passed a compliment, interest,
Or pain.
But before sleeping,
I will listen again to your face,
The beautiful melodies you believe and say,
Without saying anything,
And with a smile,
I'll mutter thanks
Harmonizing with the wind.

To Live

To live
Bounding over each wave of life,
Holding my breath,
Taking in each kiss that comes,
But not taking kisses, and only breaking hearts
On sunsets and songs
To breathe heavy, feel the bite of icy air,
Wild dogs, and an empty wallet.
To dance in the Spirit until we fall down,
To dance again,
Walking along the water, running, spinning,
Swimming, because it scares me,
Climbing the hills because they are there,
A life without fear.

I'm terrified of being alone.
I could go anywhere if you'll go with me.
I'm terrified you'll abandon me if I don't follow
Correctly.

To live,
Not grasping, but gasping,
Moving through the earth's colours and lines
With a steady hand and deep lungs
With arms open wide
For every sunset, every sunrise,
Every new friend, sad stranger, and old acquantaince

I'm terrified of an empty hand.
I will go anywhere but promise me I won't
Have to be alone anymore.
I don't want to be alone anymore.
I've never been alone, but
I could use someone with skin on.
Someone who will hold my hand and listen.
It's funny, I think Freud was right but so wrong,
I think more than anything, we want someone like
a Mom, someone to hold us and tell us it will be alright,
But since, we are grasping, since it is acceptable,
Since, at least, there is release, we look to sex instead.

To live, as a brother and father to all
To give, and smile because they'll never know
To try, to sing, to give your all
And go to sleep having left it all behind.
To live, to write into the soil
To sink my hands into the earth and
Embrace, the hard ground and the beauty mystery
To love. To dispense mercy on all the -isms and
Smiths for the sake of pansies and the way they
make me smile. For the sake
Of being loved.

Friday Nights

When I am mad at the world,
I stay up late
There is no reason to get up in the morning.
But it's foolish.

Waiting for something to matter.
Waiting for something to wake me up,
So I can sleep.