Friday, December 26, 2008


at the start a hope in the middle a crisis at the end submission our circle of life how does it look are you alright babe? doesn't seem so nice this ain't the disney version our endless round doesn't move the soul


So I sit here and instead of writing that usual vapid little poem I think I'm going to try something different. But, alas, I find myself writing my way into circles. Constantly, consistently I find myself thinking the same thoughts and coming to the same conclusions. I don't have anything fresh or new to add. I am not a unique voice. I haven't even written a word, and, yet, I know that it isn't worth the effort. Back myself up against that immovable wall because baby nothing is breaking through this dim.


sometimes that's all there is one word from one tiny language toast do you know why i'm toast? because I am no longer capable I don't wake up to the sounds of my mother making it I don't wake up to the sound of a wife serving it I don't wake up to children seeking it I have lost myself I have lost the way if toast is no longer something to celebrate then it is done; obliterate


one word so little time to gear myself to your crime and if you were to be my muse would you hold on to me despite the abuse and if i were to be your all and i stopped your fall would you move to that word's groove? love our little word
Joe's right it's the perfect time to write while in tune with the night feeling slumber's tender fright there's no sleep in darkest light our drunken hearts can't face the fight and as I played the moment passed too focused to sense the time to write I've lost the sight I lack the might but heed this warning-you'll make it right you'll save us from the dark night's plight
another person walks down the hall shadow reflecting on the glazed white walls and I shed a tear for another love a piece of my heart now removed I want to tell them this is everything I want to scream that we are free but I'm paralyzed in my fear and darkened chaos brings drops to my cheeks
here I am. isn't that something? I guess I never realized before but I'm standing here knocking on your door isn't it funny? that we all happen to be on this earth at the same time and in the same place we have the chance at something great
I want you to want to talk to me say something first please
gosh! a hello is all I need so what, forget your bitter heart now what? you've closed yourself off but if you just say hi I'd guide you back into this life trust me, it's okay to cry
I want you to want to talk to me is that so wrong? you don't mind my interruptions (that's what you said) but you don't initiate the conversation it's like you never cared and that's all I need to hear
I wish I could tell you that I belong but if I told you the truth I'd be disowned I'm not normal- not part of your group I don't like that type; that's the truth
the boy of eighteen who could do anything he played on the piano he captured photographs what hearts desire and no one knows and still he chose to be betrothed of a silly school in midwest recluse to struggle daily for a game without mercy he says it's the program he says for education but I know it's something different he came here for love of an incomprehensible game and he won't tell me what but something matters in that play something grander than pitching balls and swinging graceless bats something worthwhile something true the boy who can do anything found something with meaning he's better than me I flounder in the sea
such a severe lack of connection I need to have communication so I can tell you whats gone wrong and you can tell me to be strong I'm gonna write of Love will I be accepted? will I be loved? will you be my love? no of course you won't forbidden love that is not merely by society but my mind as well as taboo as strange a fight within myself
aware as I breathe in and push out the smell of dip brings thoughts of you and the worries of today vacate their presence in my skin
did I tell you that I lied about wanting to cry and giving it a try my heart is yours to keep my hand is yours to abuse I do not doubt intent but I know regret if that piano could play my tune my fingers would give love to those keys
no i can't if i did I'd cry and crying means something is wrong-with me in me around me if i cry you're right and i don't want to be wrong; I don't want to be wrong i want to be well, and, well, I'm all wrong
if i look into my heart will i be loved? if i move closer will i be loved? if i live for today will i be loved? if i chase my dreams will i be loved? if I'm alive will i be loved? do i deserve to be loved? Oh God! tell me i'm loved i need to be loved...
if I'm alone then you should know that I do care and you're nowhere
like eagles flying over sea what is alone is powerful but I have strength of only fleas I try to fight but fear festers in my might
I'm bound to wait for you cuz it's just what I do so I sit here in my darkened room as I wait for you to count the steps twenty from where you are to me it feels like an eternity perhaps because you never planned to make the trip to save me from my gloom or did you simply forget distracted by women and the drink I couldn't wait any longer I took the window to my doom