Friday, May 8, 2009

Put my pen to sleep
Hibernation of winter dreams
But spring brings more then new beginnings
It isn’t ever as hard to let go
As we seem to make it
The air in his room has been
recycled by so many women
In the months since she stopped seeing him

It starts to feel nice – being the one who left

Monday, October 20, 2008

if a picture is worth a thousand words
how much is the word picture worth?

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Ate a bushel of poison apples
to test out your conjecture
instead of beauty sleep
i get indigestion
the words that spill from a traitors lips
sound innocent and sweet - and yet

if words could save
yours would kill
death though sweet
is death still

poison drips from perfect lips
death disguised as an innocent kiss
and love words scribbled in jet black ink
turn the dagger red

if only words could save
there aren't many choices left
very few roads from which to choose
either happiness or success are within your reach
but both are not yours to own
like the boy you fell in love with
they are only yours on loan
pages turning
time is flying
hours passing
minutes burning

and nothing to show for it

light is fading
moon is waking
someone's yelling
time is wasting

clock is ticking
days are churning
children growing
time isn't slowing

and you're
still not caring
unaware that all the world is passing by
it took a few miles but the sky is finally clearer
four paths to mix and match
red yellow green and blue
but i find out too late
when i reach the end
that none of them lead to truth
and none of them bring me to you
monday night street lights
paint the slick pavement
and i keep driving on
i'll just keep driving on
(this is how we get along)
(this is how it dies)
we are always lost along the way
but we find our places for precious seconds some days
and our memories are heavy
but with age they begin to fade
chopped down that tree in his front yard
lit a match and watched it char
and the children came running from up the street
as their treehouse dreams smoldered at his feet
we begin to doubt the power of words
when hope balances on unwise desires

Went to pick him up at midnight at the airport outside of town
Stalling in the coffee shop before I looked around
Wondering if that old man by the staircase is my father
And the grief had aged him 20 years, in less than 24 hours

I haven’t written words like these
Since the day I forgot who I was
Just kept reusing the same old phrases
Like an automaton
Preprogrammed to be pleasing

They patented diet life today
A single pill to appease
This calorie tragic economy
Less people to feed
More money to increase
Nuclear instability
We just pretend it’s not happening

sweet pink cotton candy sins

This disease is apathy fed
And its victims are the masses
Comfortable and warm
In their mother made beds

We walk with purpose but to what end?
When we are just signposts on dead end streets
rooted, but shaking in a strong wind