the clock strikes 12

like mice we travel in packs
10 , 20, 30 of us at a time
drinking well into the night
no stranger to the life

but at the magic hour
before the clock strikes 11
the mind starts to trick
in like a thunder storm
the desire an abandon
all rational thinking
no voice of reason in the vicinity
overcomes and pulls pulls pulls
flooded by the juice
let go of this world
this industrious, productive, illustruous
sunlight, daylight all could be gone in a flash
your life can change in a minute if you want it to
everything you work for
let it go like a drop in the bucket

then it clicks in as the clock strikes 12
this childish chase for a few minutes of bipolar bliss
ecstatic manic mania
her words coming at you like a dead weight
just a few minutes ago
for a whole damn hour
creating chaos in the young who can't understand
in lives that don't crave it
thank god for them
for
all of a sudden waken by another voice
the reason is in

because the mice are wise
by far and beyond
when the clock strikes 12
knowing the end must be near
no matter how much we wish
we could
revisit our youth

just one more time
just one more night
watching daylight

but alas we know
the pleasure is for naught
we've learned from our mistakes
and it's not the pretty anymore

when the clock strikes 12
we know
its almost time to go home

at least start winding down not up
she says
and the clock strikes 12 in my head

a few more hours of social smiles
talks and wine
a night cap indeed
keep the glamour alive

the mice scurry home before the clock strikes 3
and will sleep in bliss
in a dream of clouded flurry
and wake to a new day

anxiety

having these dreams of return this devolver
revolver

still the wounds are fresh
but sadness flows with ease
where once it was tainted with fear
anxiety and unrest

and the calls between the whispers
encrypted messages
that suggest that we all believe there is hope

all or maybe just 2
how did we let someone suck us so far away from our dream

when we're strong and diligent and forthright
our one fault is that we believed
in persons who perhaps led us on

there i go again
back into that head
the space of the mass
the ego of the band

where if we sit stuck
we'll never find the courage to move on
let go of the past
that wounded the soul
that masked our pain
that sank all of our hopes
and saw to our demise

we shouldn't let this be
sitting empty
like forever misty

soy demasiado viejo

estudio, estudiaste estudiamos
mi amor

y cuando su tarjeta encanta?

y cuando llorar en sus manos?

yo dijiste nada mucho

cuando el extremo de la lluvia

a ningún miedo del final i
esto sofocará a nuestros fosos
soy ya cansado del dios de estas caras,
i tan intolerante de ignorancia

las muchachas tontas
que hacen preguntas estúpidas
tienen creencia joven encajada y coja tienen
i crecidas tanto que soy cansado de la juventud y de su represión
o soy yo acabo de cansarse de derecho poop

flower

hung up on last nights weather
there are good things in every air
in the big picture
but sometimes we get caught in the ventilator
focused on our moles
on our blemishes
confused to our core

i feel far removed from my old friends
from a time unknown a world depleted from memory
do you remember the day
you laughed at my dreams
as i write songs on my guitar meant for another place
together i forged with ones that believed
leaving the weeping behind
though it melted into my bones
swimming in my blood stream
like precious drops of gold
meant to take me back to days of old

i've treated so wrong, the world that did me tough
i've treated so bad, the world that laughed when I fell
now i smile and suggest i'm a flower
new people float in and out thinking of me sweet
innocent, kind,
until they meet my calloused soul

socially awkward

Late nights liquor rock and roll blues
takes a toll on the body soul and system
we sleep so few dark days in arms of this stranger
who becomes quite so near

I remind myself the blurry lacerations on my eyelids
represent the risks I take
in life
to go places I might not have seen
otherwise

It's not for everyone or the faint of hearted
who sit around and beg for safety
watching these little ones behind the desks of sterility
reading somewhat so they stay in the know
vicarious voyeurs

But in the do, is the risktaker, who can't sit still
or the methodical be-er planning and preparing

you gotta be out there my sister
do upon do, be upon being
let not the fear grab hold let your ankles be free
like dating online, when it's really not so hard to meet people