Monday, May 11, 2009

Ain't No Woman Gonna Make a George Jones Outta Me

Haven't posted in a while, little to no poetry to add right now (still writing a bit now, focusing on playing bass guitar at the moment). So, for those of you who actually read this (I think it may just be one or's my itinerary for the summer.

1: Grow some boss sideburns.

2: Wear more bandannas.

3: Attend some sweet concerts (Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr/Minutemen, Nine Inch Nails/Janes Addiction.

4. Continue to work real hard for the almighty dollar all the ding dong day.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

The Coaster

It's been a while, campers..but here we go again.

The Coaster
Enjoy the ride while it lasts:

It has its hills, drops, and planes
But it will still be worth the wait in line it took to experience it.
Don't worry if the car will jump the tracks
Or if it will come to a gentle stops after many wondrous years of a beautiful journey.

Just appreciate the moments you've been given on the coaster
But if you look too far back, you'll miss where you're going
If you look too far forward, you'll forget where you've been.

It's an exhilarating experience that I'm planning on cherishing,
If there isn't another chance to get off the ride when it ends and hop on again.
The track's not the same for everyone, but I can only pray they enjoy it.

Monday, March 30, 2009

The Dream King

The lights from the city embrace the night's sky
A warm corona of love lights glow softly,
As the nocturnal mother winks her beautiful eye.

As the twilight goes on, the nights never go out
The citizens sleep, but the halogenic symphony
of viridian, gold, and red stand firmly devout.

They create a beacon of hope, seldomly seen
By those wrapped up in the evening's nocturnal dream.
These serene, peaceful sleepers do not hear the passing of the Jeep
That passes by as civilization bleats with the cries of ten thousand electric sheep.

While the town's napping citizens rest with the sands of Morpheus in their eye,
They remember the lights of ancient cities,
And wells of forgotten grottoes, that have long ago run dry.

Some recall the flickering flames that played on the temples of ancient Zion
While others see a lush, tropical oasis...
Visited by holy Arab horsemen, hunting the almighty white lion.

People remember events long past, but still occurring
The electric lights flicker while the dreamers are stirring.

As the rays of the sun have two hours to rise,
The gentles sleepers still rest with the dream sands in their eyes
Some conjure images of regal, courtly kings
While other weary travelers imagine barbarous things.

The moon sinks and the sun begins her mighty reign
Over the lands, lovingly embraced by dewy rain.
The dreamers collectively begin to wake
When they breathe the first breath of morning...
The sands of sleep begin to break.

Wakers all over shrug off their dreams
As the sun cascades the land in her heavenly beams
They never truly forget the times that have gone past
It is just hard to remember when they live their lives too fast.

Morpheus, the Dream King, returns to his land
On his throne of dreams, he idly runs his fingers through sand.
Only a few more hours to go, to wait
Before the Dream King can help the sleepers remember their fate.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

I Stared at Her Blankly (The Fated Lovers 3)

Hers is a tale of morbid desperation
Searching for forlorn love in a waylaid station.
We reached each other, briefly, at university
But in highschool is when she set her eyes on me.

Her eyes were green forests set in a world of pale skin
Her hair, ablaze, and smooth as rose satin.
When we kissed, her lips trembled with a hint of fright
Her tongue darted about, looking for a brief respite.

From what she needed a break, I shall truly never know
For she kept her secrets and pushed them below
What did surface from that soul sounded like horror
Her heart filled with holes by a barbarian borer.

She told me a tale so strange, yet so true
About a day, long ago, under a sky of blue
There was a picnic that day, with a grill
But that fortuitous feast was interrupted with a cry...
So shrill.

The coals spilled over in a freak occurrence, so gruesome
The flames moved over to a group, a young infant twosome
The fire spread out to a girl aged twelve thousand days,
They all too quickly took her soul in a scorcherous haze.

My brief lover's eyes grew misty as she related this tale to me.
She extended a hand to my leg, and then to rest on my knee.
I stared at her blankly, never fully understanding
Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.

You see, the young girl who had perspired,
Who met her untimely end on an impromptu funeral pyre,
Was of relation of my lover, so brief.
It was her great aunt who was devoured by Death's sharp teeth.

She was close to the man who witnessed the flames, long past
Her grandfather lived with a pale memory that sailed eternally,
In his mind and soul, on a ship with a black mast.
Well, he lived his life as a sage, nonetheless,
He died of old age, with this he was blessed.

I stared at her blankly, never fully understanding
Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.

With his passing, my brief lover was struck
With a feeling of guilt, she was left alone...with no luck.
Another person she had known had again passed
She rested her hand on me shortly,
For a moment that was not meant to be passed

She related yet another tale to me
Of a brief interest of hers,
Who smiled with charming glee.
He was not mature, but constantly youthful
I wish I said he had a filling life...but I have to be truthful.

He loved to dance in malls and public spheres
This charming man, hopped into a car in his late teen years
He was planning on visiting the local mall
To dance with poise and grace at a rather impromptu ball

His party of revelers sped to the interstate
Where our handsome dancer met his fate
A car intersected with their baller's carriage
And our happy reveler never saw mariage.

He used to dance in a way that was tasteful
An awkward teen, trying to be smooth and graceful
His dance did not end when he was struck in the car
For he salsas eternally on the wink of a star.

I stared at her blankly, never fully understanding.
Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.

With all of this pain, death, and strife
It is no wonder my brief lover has a hard time connecting
In this mortal life

We parted ways then, briefly, but she made various and sundry call,
Crying desperately in her mother's shower stall.

I listened to her blankly, never fully understanding,
Until this day, that seems so gruesomely demanding.

She talked on that phone and complained of her strife
Telling me she had her pale hand on a knife
It was late and I began to sleep
From the darkness, the pain from her had leaped

From the knife to the thigh, sliced the cleaver
My brief lover, she had let Death deceive her
Mephistopheles made her think that death is an end
Instead of a beginning of a wonderful mend

A mend, a fix, of many relations
That never had time, in mortal occasion
For Death may be an eternity,
But that forever has others waiting, as you will see.

My brief lover, how I wish you can know
Why you need to not worry about Death and emotionally grow
For there is plenty of time left for forever you see,
So please live your life, enjoy your mortality.

All is NOT Fair in Love and War (The Fated Lovers 2)

It was mid-July when we walked the fields of former battle
The heat was strong enough to drip sweat from the cattle
That grazed in the wheat-filled plots where not so long ago
There was a skirmish, a fight, a quarrel, you know.

We walked down the lane, hand in hand.
You were my girl and I was your man
At least that's how it was before you stopped
And allowed our hands to come apart, to drop.

You coughed and complained about the heat
And the sickness you thought that you had beat.
But, it stayed persistent in your system, my dear,
You hacked some more and wouldn't let me near.

When we climbed a mighty tower made of stone, long ago
Where the ancient snipers picked their targets below,
I extended an arm to wrap around your side,
Yet you moved away..and sighed.

Oh my Muse of former splendor...
What has made you lose this love and surrender?
Was it your sickness that ended our love
Or was it another reason, known only to those above?

As we left that mighty, stoney spire
My love had begun to perspire.
Wilting and wasting like the flowers in this vase.
That others gave to me, in try to replace.

Replace what my love? This hopeless yearning?
That somewhere an essence of you is constantly burning?
Melting hot with the flames of our passion
That has passed long ago like last fall's spring fashion?

You and I, we came to a place to rest.
A bench in a room of glass and room, made by the best.
You rested your head on me, as the sun set.
As of that day? Try as I might to not remember...
I never forget.

The Folks Who Live In Their Heads

We speak in tongues barbarous and respectful
With tones polite and resentful.
This unabashed way of speaking,
Is rough around the edges...
Like a wooden floor creaking.

Two people are talking by a steamy window pane
Their conversation lofting and lilting with their vocal refrains
Not truly giving each other their fullest attention
Never truly remembering the names that were mentioned

Civil citizens live their lives in private spaces
Only thinking about their own faces
Rushing down private lanes in non-public sleds
These are The Folks Who Live in Their Heads


I don't need to be respected
Or socially protected
By beligerent peers
Who cherish the bland
And trample the land
As they persistently guzzle their beers

However, i don't need praise from the intellectual sods
With their systematic killing of the formerly glorious gods
Don't treat me special if you think above others,
For we may or may not be from God, but we are Earth's lovers

Please refrain from tipping your hat respectuflly
No one needs to appreciate me
Except for yours truly, myself and I
While I remain confident, and never awry.

Be sure in oneself, so others also might,
Through self-respect one gains social respite.
You shall stun and amaze, when you should find right.