I checked my eyes in the mirror
They were red
It was a long day behind the wheel
But
I'm glad to be here
Although the thoughts of drive kept surfacing all day
On the drive
So you are where you are today
One step at a time
It's not the end all be all.
I start wondering...
Quiet the words. I learn that in time.
Quiet the words that come out of their mouths.
And turn up the rock. Turn up the rock.
Turn off the clock.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Check.
Teetering this close to the edge. New friends, old friends, tons of friends yes.
You are just where you need to be. right now. yes.
rock shows. check.
stripper poles fixed. check.
flash gifs. check.
moving forward not backward. check.
ads. check.
associations. check.
musicians. check.
work. check.
work. check.
You are just where you need to be. right now. yes.
rock shows. check.
stripper poles fixed. check.
flash gifs. check.
moving forward not backward. check.
ads. check.
associations. check.
musicians. check.
work. check.
work. check.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Sigh of Relief
I've got my Vodka Soda, sans lime and I'm sitting in my room, Friday night
in my boy-shorts and t-shirt, and I've nothing to write.
I've inspired and refreshed this week 1 I had dinner with my sexy Indian friend
we obsessed over anus and we talked about life, work, rules and getting older and fringe
err. I mean fake hair, what do you call it? My colored hair Extensions that reminded us of Crystal Taylor days.
We laughed and I sighed a sigh of relief. It's my girlfriends that know me, that make me Me.
I've inspired and rejuvenated like a vagina on pills. Not really more like a zap from the god's, the heavens, whatever, the planets they shifted and the clouds they lifted and I all of a sudden reveling in my lifestyle.
Where I no longer have to bill or wear a frock that doesn't suit me. Nor wear something day in and day out pretend to be professional more often than not. Instead I can wear belts and boots and hair extensions when I damn well please. God I love it.
I am really starting to become the fringe I know I can so well be.
And 2. The record, this album, this band. Progress is being made though it sometimes comes to a still stand. Every little bit counts, if you know what it means, networking and partying is all part of the mix.
Lesbian ladies all have gone to far away places. It's weird how I always befriend the transients. I can't make your home, though I've got this dream home, where I live with dudes, male energy, pure male energy. You want to find home, but somehow I resist. Got these walls up and don't let you in, unless you are you and you find you're way in, you know who you are you will find your way in.
I have to recognize my role in keeping you away. Ladies of the night. Ladies, even my friends. I know I do it.
But now I'm humbling, releasing and relaxing. Come over or not. Come over or not. If there was nothing else to do, there'd be parties here more often than you'd know what to do.
But, I moved out of domestication, and to move back in is the only thing I knew to do. I don't try to fight it either, I'm older and it's more comfortable, relaxing, the thing to do. But I will say I want it to change, for a few more years at least 5 to 10. But then my life will be something different all together. Something I wish to embrace. An endless drunkeness, happiness' craziness and grace.
in my boy-shorts and t-shirt, and I've nothing to write.
I've inspired and refreshed this week 1 I had dinner with my sexy Indian friend
we obsessed over anus and we talked about life, work, rules and getting older and fringe
err. I mean fake hair, what do you call it? My colored hair Extensions that reminded us of Crystal Taylor days.
We laughed and I sighed a sigh of relief. It's my girlfriends that know me, that make me Me.
I've inspired and rejuvenated like a vagina on pills. Not really more like a zap from the god's, the heavens, whatever, the planets they shifted and the clouds they lifted and I all of a sudden reveling in my lifestyle.
Where I no longer have to bill or wear a frock that doesn't suit me. Nor wear something day in and day out pretend to be professional more often than not. Instead I can wear belts and boots and hair extensions when I damn well please. God I love it.
I am really starting to become the fringe I know I can so well be.
And 2. The record, this album, this band. Progress is being made though it sometimes comes to a still stand. Every little bit counts, if you know what it means, networking and partying is all part of the mix.
Lesbian ladies all have gone to far away places. It's weird how I always befriend the transients. I can't make your home, though I've got this dream home, where I live with dudes, male energy, pure male energy. You want to find home, but somehow I resist. Got these walls up and don't let you in, unless you are you and you find you're way in, you know who you are you will find your way in.
I have to recognize my role in keeping you away. Ladies of the night. Ladies, even my friends. I know I do it.
But now I'm humbling, releasing and relaxing. Come over or not. Come over or not. If there was nothing else to do, there'd be parties here more often than you'd know what to do.
But, I moved out of domestication, and to move back in is the only thing I knew to do. I don't try to fight it either, I'm older and it's more comfortable, relaxing, the thing to do. But I will say I want it to change, for a few more years at least 5 to 10. But then my life will be something different all together. Something I wish to embrace. An endless drunkeness, happiness' craziness and grace.
wrote:
"Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually. Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken. And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken, and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, of whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock, will answer you: 'It is the hour to be drunken! Be drunken, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time; be drunken continually! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will'
To which I say, work it has changed me, the desire for success somehow fits with domesticated bliss, but instead of falling asleep in married bliss, I alone staying up late in drunken madness, typing the words which fall on deaf ears. The work masks the silence.
And lesbians, gangsters, musicians and rockers all live on my street.
To which I say, work it has changed me, the desire for success somehow fits with domesticated bliss, but instead of falling asleep in married bliss, I alone staying up late in drunken madness, typing the words which fall on deaf ears. The work masks the silence.
And lesbians, gangsters, musicians and rockers all live on my street.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
stealth. whore.
I am not going to sit here and pretend it's all great
that the risk taking is all wonderful that it's so glamorous
and desirable
I will say that I am doing a lot and compromising a lot of comfort
for this art and this life
but often doth wondering if it's all worth it
when wind comes storming through the living room
like they own the place stomping their feet because they do not know how
to walk lightly with ease on their toes. stealth.
stealth.
no stealth to be aware of and no wealth. because he is cheap. he is my tenant. and I cannot stand him from within my core. his lacking of social skills and grace. of knowledge and social aptitude.
yet, having to listen to loud comments. it's so ugly. how much I ignore. an awful landlord. an awful whore.
my choice is to be angered and annoyed. or let that shit go. whore.
that the risk taking is all wonderful that it's so glamorous
and desirable
I will say that I am doing a lot and compromising a lot of comfort
for this art and this life
but often doth wondering if it's all worth it
when wind comes storming through the living room
like they own the place stomping their feet because they do not know how
to walk lightly with ease on their toes. stealth.
stealth.
no stealth to be aware of and no wealth. because he is cheap. he is my tenant. and I cannot stand him from within my core. his lacking of social skills and grace. of knowledge and social aptitude.
yet, having to listen to loud comments. it's so ugly. how much I ignore. an awful landlord. an awful whore.
my choice is to be angered and annoyed. or let that shit go. whore.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
My Roots
This rain it's killing me, the clouds the gloom I'm sinking into doom
He says things like if life sucks then you suck and he's right
I'm dreaming of a foreign land with lots of color
away from the vast drear that is America
Even though I stay close to the coasts and the cities
Los Angeles, San Francisco New York what have you
I'm still craving Bangkok, Shanghai, Beijing, Hong Kong, Ho Chi Minh
Ladies in eyeliner and men in suits trading money and temples in bars
and of course my boots
my roots
So I retreat back to my back room
where I slip into some colors no not a fucking negligee
not something more comfortable, how fucking cliche'
I'm taking about my hair and the stripes I stick in them
To make me feel more risque'
But when in reality I'm craving the road
some drugs
a drink
a party
something more than this
something somewhere else
something totally different than this
Part of me thinks I should go back to work for a few months
YOU fucking douche. You should write for a few months.
Keep writing, it's the only thing that keeps you sane.
Fucking winter months
I did not expect you to come so soon.
So you got some time on your hands. So you got some time on your hands,
No I hate twitter and facebook and myspace. I am not a networking beast.
Never really was. Always just wanted to be loved and adored. But don't want to put in that much work.
I make myself feel horrible and worse. I don't have it in me like you do.
I'm reading A. Burroughs and Listening to Steven M. and hanging out in Greensboro with M&M and I recognize the cynical gay man in me. Except perhaps sometimes I can be pretty. Well then what is the difference?
We're the same. But I got stuck, and sucked into this Hetero world, when I should have been slutting around Gay Sydney in my heels not Gay LA, it's pretty lame anyway. Ok, New York City?
Nah. Bangkok, oriental setting.
Either way, it seems pretty obvious to me anyway. I should develop some sort of addiction or affliction or ailment. Shouldn't I anyway? Do my nails. I guess it's that time anyway. Do my nails and paint my hair. Come sit down at this desk with a glass of wine. Shit, it's not even noon yet.
So, the world is supposedly coming to an end. And if that is the case, what would I really desire to do with my final dying days?
I don't even really have to think about it. Not sitting on twitter making friends. Not fucking talking to people on myspace whom I don't even know. That is not my forte'. Not how I roll. Some people can be friends with random people they meet online. Not me. And perhaps that is why I cannot promote this band the way you do. The way in perhaps I should. I cannot. I cannot. I don't get into it. Though perhaps I could. Maybe I just don't want to or don't give a fuck.
And this guy the other night. In between trying to sweet talk me, telling me that he fears rock n roll is dead. Where do we go he asks? If so, then what is it all for? What the fuck is it all for? None of this even fucking matters anymore. This stupid rock and roll world, and rock n roll dream. He surmises its all for the dead.
So then what? Where does that leave me? Well let's just sit here and think about it for a moment. Sit here and think about it long and hard for a dark dreary fucking moment.
Do I care about these therapists self help continuing educational units teleconferences you all keep trying to invite me to? Hell no.
Do I care about the strip club where the rock bands play? Probably not.
Do I care about the train station somewhere in the middle of the Sahara desert? Yes. Yes. Yes. I want to be back on the road with my camera and my pain. I want to document the colors.
It always goes back to the colors.
He says things like if life sucks then you suck and he's right
I'm dreaming of a foreign land with lots of color
away from the vast drear that is America
Even though I stay close to the coasts and the cities
Los Angeles, San Francisco New York what have you
I'm still craving Bangkok, Shanghai, Beijing, Hong Kong, Ho Chi Minh
Ladies in eyeliner and men in suits trading money and temples in bars
and of course my boots
my roots
So I retreat back to my back room
where I slip into some colors no not a fucking negligee
not something more comfortable, how fucking cliche'
I'm taking about my hair and the stripes I stick in them
To make me feel more risque'
But when in reality I'm craving the road
some drugs
a drink
a party
something more than this
something somewhere else
something totally different than this
Part of me thinks I should go back to work for a few months
YOU fucking douche. You should write for a few months.
Keep writing, it's the only thing that keeps you sane.
Fucking winter months
I did not expect you to come so soon.
So you got some time on your hands. So you got some time on your hands,
No I hate twitter and facebook and myspace. I am not a networking beast.
Never really was. Always just wanted to be loved and adored. But don't want to put in that much work.
I make myself feel horrible and worse. I don't have it in me like you do.
I'm reading A. Burroughs and Listening to Steven M. and hanging out in Greensboro with M&M and I recognize the cynical gay man in me. Except perhaps sometimes I can be pretty. Well then what is the difference?
We're the same. But I got stuck, and sucked into this Hetero world, when I should have been slutting around Gay Sydney in my heels not Gay LA, it's pretty lame anyway. Ok, New York City?
Nah. Bangkok, oriental setting.
Either way, it seems pretty obvious to me anyway. I should develop some sort of addiction or affliction or ailment. Shouldn't I anyway? Do my nails. I guess it's that time anyway. Do my nails and paint my hair. Come sit down at this desk with a glass of wine. Shit, it's not even noon yet.
So, the world is supposedly coming to an end. And if that is the case, what would I really desire to do with my final dying days?
I don't even really have to think about it. Not sitting on twitter making friends. Not fucking talking to people on myspace whom I don't even know. That is not my forte'. Not how I roll. Some people can be friends with random people they meet online. Not me. And perhaps that is why I cannot promote this band the way you do. The way in perhaps I should. I cannot. I cannot. I don't get into it. Though perhaps I could. Maybe I just don't want to or don't give a fuck.
And this guy the other night. In between trying to sweet talk me, telling me that he fears rock n roll is dead. Where do we go he asks? If so, then what is it all for? What the fuck is it all for? None of this even fucking matters anymore. This stupid rock and roll world, and rock n roll dream. He surmises its all for the dead.
So then what? Where does that leave me? Well let's just sit here and think about it for a moment. Sit here and think about it long and hard for a dark dreary fucking moment.
Do I care about these therapists self help continuing educational units teleconferences you all keep trying to invite me to? Hell no.
Do I care about the strip club where the rock bands play? Probably not.
Do I care about the train station somewhere in the middle of the Sahara desert? Yes. Yes. Yes. I want to be back on the road with my camera and my pain. I want to document the colors.
It always goes back to the colors.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
this old vintage house....
I haven't sounded out for weeks maybe days beyond
and sometimes I cry behind the curtains that are forever drawn
and this house was my imagined dream
an old vintage house perfect if only more clean and serene
and the stupid idiots that leave within
ranging from odorous, broke and stomping loud
tactless beings, angry dumb fucks
and me
how I want this house to be rid of these dudes
and filled with my sweet san francisco chics
ladies with style and sense and clean
that leave me alone and let me be me
calm and serene
and pretty
who have their shit together, have some fucking class and money.
But sometimes I wish to leave this place altogether
move back up north and storm the weather
and then I suspect it's just a matter of time until then anyway
and in between I'd better make my way
every now and then up to the place I once called heaven
that stole my soul and left me cold in my bones
it always boils down to
I just need to get on a plane more.
I just need to take care of me more.
I'm an angry miserable old whore
a selfish unsatisfied bitter old bore.
Take me to the steeple and dump me on the floor.
This is the dead end of the road.
Sorry I can't be more positive.
I should uncrinkle my brow
it would make you happy
but it's a total lie.
and sometimes I cry behind the curtains that are forever drawn
and this house was my imagined dream
an old vintage house perfect if only more clean and serene
and the stupid idiots that leave within
ranging from odorous, broke and stomping loud
tactless beings, angry dumb fucks
and me
how I want this house to be rid of these dudes
and filled with my sweet san francisco chics
ladies with style and sense and clean
that leave me alone and let me be me
calm and serene
and pretty
who have their shit together, have some fucking class and money.
But sometimes I wish to leave this place altogether
move back up north and storm the weather
and then I suspect it's just a matter of time until then anyway
and in between I'd better make my way
every now and then up to the place I once called heaven
that stole my soul and left me cold in my bones
it always boils down to
I just need to get on a plane more.
I just need to take care of me more.
I'm an angry miserable old whore
a selfish unsatisfied bitter old bore.
Take me to the steeple and dump me on the floor.
This is the dead end of the road.
Sorry I can't be more positive.
I should uncrinkle my brow
it would make you happy
but it's a total lie.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
the rise to fame
being nice and smiling along the way
smiling in that nice but knowing way
wanting adoration and fame
one track mind
so selfish and driven
so self absorbed and driven to success
if I want it it can be mine
if I own it it will be mine
Fake it till you make it
it's what we say here in L.A.
But, it takes hard work and sweat equity
you can't live a life of luxury
you gotta suffer a little bit
but you gotta have tough skin
sometimes too you know you gotta face the ones who ignite your insecurity jealous and hate
you gotta suck it up and face look it straight in the face and
recognize that some people are gonna hate
trying to ask questions that will blow up in your face
while they have a straight innocent face
oh the rise to fame
some days
you gotta play the fucking game...
you can't get wasted just cuz its a sunday, just cuz they do
it's just another working day
you got work to do....
smiling in that nice but knowing way
wanting adoration and fame
one track mind
so selfish and driven
so self absorbed and driven to success
if I want it it can be mine
if I own it it will be mine
Fake it till you make it
it's what we say here in L.A.
But, it takes hard work and sweat equity
you can't live a life of luxury
you gotta suffer a little bit
but you gotta have tough skin
sometimes too you know you gotta face the ones who ignite your insecurity jealous and hate
you gotta suck it up and face look it straight in the face and
recognize that some people are gonna hate
trying to ask questions that will blow up in your face
while they have a straight innocent face
oh the rise to fame
some days
you gotta play the fucking game...
you can't get wasted just cuz its a sunday, just cuz they do
it's just another working day
you got work to do....
Friday, September 25, 2009
Not Famous Enough
A post on Facebook today from Pepperdine, my alma mater:
To which end I no longer want to falter
follow it through bitches if that's what you really want
your face on the cover your name in lights
I want recognition and altruism and adoration
but not from non-profit sanctu-ism
not from 3rd world gratuit-ism
but to entertain and be appreciated for my lyrical fortuitism
my gracious-ism random hilarious-ism sexy-ism
so when she says You're Famous.
I say Not Famous Enough.
Work with a non-profit organization dedicated to eradicating child slavery and empowering children in crisis. Touch A Life operates a number of shelters and various projects in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Ghana. All of our projects are aimed at reaching ultimate goal of improving the lives of children in these countries where so many of them are mistreated, neglected, or living in poverty.
To which end I no longer want to falter
follow it through bitches if that's what you really want
your face on the cover your name in lights
I want recognition and altruism and adoration
but not from non-profit sanctu-ism
not from 3rd world gratuit-ism
but to entertain and be appreciated for my lyrical fortuitism
my gracious-ism random hilarious-ism sexy-ism
so when she says You're Famous.
I say Not Famous Enough.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Fame....Yes.... I want it too!
Fame Fame Fatal Fame
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still id rather be famous
than righteous or holy anyday anyday anyday -The Smiths
Mr. Morrissey said it but I couldn't agree more
and when she said
Everybody comes to Los Angeles to be famous, but I want to be a landlord
I should have laughed and said, Everyboday comes to be rich and famous.
you came to be rich and he to whore
and yes, I did come to be fucking famous rock star
I want fame and fortune....tours and magazine covers
songs on the radio and face on the silver screen
yes, it's true.
now I said it too.....
The only people who become famous are people who really want it
We are powerful. We are all powerful. But don't let jealousy stand in your way.
Don't let love stand in your way.
Believe in yourself and go for the gold.
The non believers have no belief in their soul.
Fame, dude, fame.
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still id rather be famous
than righteous or holy anyday anyday anyday -The Smiths
Mr. Morrissey said it but I couldn't agree more
and when she said
Everybody comes to Los Angeles to be famous, but I want to be a landlord
I should have laughed and said, Everyboday comes to be rich and famous.
you came to be rich and he to whore
and yes, I did come to be fucking famous rock star
I want fame and fortune....tours and magazine covers
songs on the radio and face on the silver screen
yes, it's true.
now I said it too.....
The only people who become famous are people who really want it
We are powerful. We are all powerful. But don't let jealousy stand in your way.
Don't let love stand in your way.
Believe in yourself and go for the gold.
The non believers have no belief in their soul.
Fame, dude, fame.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Self Imposed Deadlines
It's all I've got to do in this time, work has slowed down to a minimum.
I was busy in July and most of August and all of a sudden sleepy town
sleepy fest of snore
So, I've picked up the book again
To reread and reread
And rewrite if need be
This time it's got to be done.
I was busy in July and most of August and all of a sudden sleepy town
sleepy fest of snore
So, I've picked up the book again
To reread and reread
And rewrite if need be
This time it's got to be done.
Friday, September 18, 2009
THE WHOLE OF THE WHORE
Clock strikes 10 and down she goes
feather laden fickle selfish whore
desperate and angry and immature
let her go down her vapid tour
unappreciative of this new world
having no recollection of how it really was before
retarded lost confused bore
throwing all your friends back to the shore
seriously creating an island so you cannot swim back
is this really where it's at?
Slutty dreams and vibrating screams
lubrication comes naturally
trying soo hard to remain in control
god dammit bitch just let it go
Peaches and cream and everything in between
sweet dreams of love making out in the green
run away girl if it makes it all better
or just sit back and smile have a drink on me
Just sit back and smile and have a drink on me.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
666 hours
The minutes and the days go by like solitude but work sweating butt in pain
from sitting on the stool of death
swirling sounds from the othe
booze and remnants of her stinky breath
It's not a good day most of the day, it's fine
when things go right
but what the hell are we going to do when the shit hits the fan
when it's all said and done..
from sitting on the stool of death
swirling sounds from the othe
booze and remnants of her stinky breath
It's not a good day most of the day, it's fine
when things go right
but what the hell are we going to do when the shit hits the fan
when it's all said and done..
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Every Single Day....
Working 7 days a week a little every day
is it nice or not I guess I cannot say
it's a little better than having nothing to do
or no money at least much of it is from home
at my desk in my own zone
at least, I say
Links point to me in every which way.
This is what I do every single day.
Shameless self promoting
Friday, September 04, 2009
The Ebb and Floers
Try doing something really exciting and then nothing for a week
unlike you flatliners, he says
he's not speaking to me but to the person within me that I could've been
tried to be
fought with for years
because it just wasn't me
unlike you flatliners, he says
he's not speaking to me but to the person within me that I could've been
tried to be
fought with for years
because it just wasn't me
and to the rest of the world it seems
who try to judge us
and I love it when the booze courses its way through my viens and into my brains
I'm an ebb and floer these days
gone are the 9 to 5 days of stability
gone are the limits and immobilitiy
it's mobility and mood lability
bipolar disorder at its best
wonder why we're so manic depressive he says
the artist way can contribute and produce it this very way
The full moon tonight lights my way
He says he won't see me tonight and he'll come over another day
He's a 9 to 5'er an old friend who I once thought was brave
So me and the brave boy go fill up the cart with liquor and berries
Plus, Boys and men and girls and friends lining up to meet me when
All is happening and I'm the center of the stage
I don't care if we live this way
It makes much more sense in the end
I pretty much run away from everyone anyway
for everyone is lost and trying to find their way
flatlining through life a typical nine to five
getting married with husbands and wives
having children and car notes and simple lives
God I just remembered we changed the name
It made me feel so crazy yesterday but today the word got out and no one really cared
no one knows our music anyway, and I think we could blow up just like any day
but then days like today come my way to fill me up with doubt
the ebbing the flowing gone out
I'm trying not to brag or bray
But damn I want this show already on the way.
and I love it when the booze courses its way through my viens and into my brains
I'm an ebb and floer these days
gone are the 9 to 5 days of stability
gone are the limits and immobilitiy
it's mobility and mood lability
bipolar disorder at its best
wonder why we're so manic depressive he says
the artist way can contribute and produce it this very way
The full moon tonight lights my way
He says he won't see me tonight and he'll come over another day
He's a 9 to 5'er an old friend who I once thought was brave
So me and the brave boy go fill up the cart with liquor and berries
Plus, Boys and men and girls and friends lining up to meet me when
All is happening and I'm the center of the stage
I don't care if we live this way
It makes much more sense in the end
I pretty much run away from everyone anyway
for everyone is lost and trying to find their way
flatlining through life a typical nine to five
getting married with husbands and wives
having children and car notes and simple lives
God I just remembered we changed the name
It made me feel so crazy yesterday but today the word got out and no one really cared
no one knows our music anyway, and I think we could blow up just like any day
but then days like today come my way to fill me up with doubt
the ebbing the flowing gone out
I'm trying not to brag or bray
But damn I want this show already on the way.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Relentless and silent Perseverance
Well maybe not so silent
I do promote sometimes shamelessly this thing we're doing
these things I believe in
it will be easier later.
I believe. And to this end, I have surrendered.
Time to eat my friends,
time to drink my friends
stuff my face with beef and gin
to this end I have surrendered
Stop fighting, let go of the anger
be free, be happy
I am.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Sharing the Cart and the Horse
Several weeks from you no word and clearly you've been hard at work
Today suddenly posts galore
you say you've got a new band
it's been under wraps
no one questions where you were
unlike me sharing the cart and the horse
so here I expect to be blown away
and of course I'm so kind showering kisses and compliments
so nice
when suddenly I hear the distortions and rage coming from the machines
dissonant and fades away too much the same out of tune out of place
I really hope this is making your happy day
I have made some choices in my life, and sacrificed so much more
like comfort and ego and self and soul to sell to sell
millions for gold
I have excavated and removed dirt clutter and long long days with no end
until the sun goes down and comes up again never ending with friends
those days are long gone though people cannot comprehend
I'm still running down this path running running to the mend
All the holes that get reopened when the empty souls come home
fills up space that I can no longer hold.
Today suddenly posts galore
you say you've got a new band
it's been under wraps
no one questions where you were
unlike me sharing the cart and the horse
so here I expect to be blown away
and of course I'm so kind showering kisses and compliments
so nice
when suddenly I hear the distortions and rage coming from the machines
dissonant and fades away too much the same out of tune out of place
I really hope this is making your happy day
I have made some choices in my life, and sacrificed so much more
like comfort and ego and self and soul to sell to sell
millions for gold
I have excavated and removed dirt clutter and long long days with no end
until the sun goes down and comes up again never ending with friends
those days are long gone though people cannot comprehend
I'm still running down this path running running to the mend
All the holes that get reopened when the empty souls come home
fills up space that I can no longer hold.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Days of Demons (formerly titled Cunt)
So pretentiously you think you've got something over the world
So full of yourself to think you've got something we want
It's cute indeed but perhaps you shouldn't build yourself up the way you do
We do not have the time for you and your measly piddly piddly doo
So many cooks you've got in your kitchen, but no one can fulfill your vision.
I don't use the C word very often, but when the realization hits that I'm expected to bend bend bend
for measly minimalities, I know you must not think me too highly
And I gotta take the high road
I gotta High tail it on down the road.
It took me a minute to link the links and undo suffrage.
It took me a minute to share the folly
but when all was said and done and the reminders of my integrity snapped me back into shape
rejection and dejection and it's finality
I think the final will be a slap in your face
The voices of goodness and positivity are what feed me continually
Keep me in this place to face the next days of demons ahead of me.
So full of yourself to think you've got something we want
It's cute indeed but perhaps you shouldn't build yourself up the way you do
We do not have the time for you and your measly piddly piddly doo
So many cooks you've got in your kitchen, but no one can fulfill your vision.
I don't use the C word very often, but when the realization hits that I'm expected to bend bend bend
for measly minimalities, I know you must not think me too highly
And I gotta take the high road
I gotta High tail it on down the road.
It took me a minute to link the links and undo suffrage.
It took me a minute to share the folly
but when all was said and done and the reminders of my integrity snapped me back into shape
rejection and dejection and it's finality
I think the final will be a slap in your face
The voices of goodness and positivity are what feed me continually
Keep me in this place to face the next days of demons ahead of me.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Blathering Idiots about Nothing Much
Whisper on foot on your way to see the couple...you're seething with desire.
i'll be back online in a bit to see if you've responded.
In the meantime I'll go lay a track or two or ten
even though I've done this song a million times over a million times to begin
I've not the time to fraternize your sexual desires these long lost articles of clothing
lost in a series of words on some household appliance
heating up in this heat, burning up in this heat
Old steam punk lady large back arms tattoeed you were once so pretty
and still so lovely and sweet and nice
but oh so insecure jealous and envious as you drink yourself into a stupor
you used to be so pretty, and still sometimes mostly nice
except when you think she might steal your man
it's not she you fear
and you can't be warm anymore
Long days on weekends too much by your side
but I can't go out, for going out will take away and bare leaks and holes
will poke air into the core of this here soul
I've been a hermetic recluse
just trying to finish this record
I'm just trying to finish this record.
i'll be back online in a bit to see if you've responded.
In the meantime I'll go lay a track or two or ten
even though I've done this song a million times over a million times to begin
I've not the time to fraternize your sexual desires these long lost articles of clothing
lost in a series of words on some household appliance
heating up in this heat, burning up in this heat
Old steam punk lady large back arms tattoeed you were once so pretty
and still so lovely and sweet and nice
but oh so insecure jealous and envious as you drink yourself into a stupor
you used to be so pretty, and still sometimes mostly nice
except when you think she might steal your man
it's not she you fear
and you can't be warm anymore
Long days on weekends too much by your side
but I can't go out, for going out will take away and bare leaks and holes
will poke air into the core of this here soul
I've been a hermetic recluse
just trying to finish this record
I'm just trying to finish this record.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Everyone wants more...
I love these women but the nights on the scene well that was a fluke
and I've loved too many people in my past but somehow tried to find the
numeric or planetary connection to find the ones to suit
Sometimes one would come along whose presence or love was so much comfort
but became too much to taller big to bigger, small to smaller
I can't seem to keep it together
I can't seem to keep it together
I love too hard and I fall too fast and I'm much to needy to fill this glass
I've got words and guitars and work, a mom and a dad who are much too sad
to enjoy their twilight
For their lot was much too ... much too much loss
And everyone wants something
And everyone wants more
When things turn to bore they turn to the bottle
which eventually turns into more...
And, I'm turning into a bore
or
I go out seeking to whore
more love and touch and hands and such
from the rock n roll boys and girls
Everyone, including myself, always just wanting more
and I've loved too many people in my past but somehow tried to find the
numeric or planetary connection to find the ones to suit
Sometimes one would come along whose presence or love was so much comfort
but became too much to taller big to bigger, small to smaller
I can't seem to keep it together
I can't seem to keep it together
I love too hard and I fall too fast and I'm much to needy to fill this glass
I've got words and guitars and work, a mom and a dad who are much too sad
to enjoy their twilight
For their lot was much too ... much too much loss
And everyone wants something
And everyone wants more
When things turn to bore they turn to the bottle
which eventually turns into more...
And, I'm turning into a bore
or
I go out seeking to whore
more love and touch and hands and such
from the rock n roll boys and girls
Everyone, including myself, always just wanting more
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Especially Today
An emotional holocaust
death and morbidity in between
I suck up the energy and spit it out in your face
for these moments it does not erase
Sadness and dying are at the forefront today
even though the sun is shining
I'm scared and anxious just the same.
I know you can sense it, and I don't know what to say
I'm in a "funk" as they'd call it
just give me my space
Do I miss the city and the safety it brung?
Confined spaces and cleanliness
Feng shui playing a role
in the old tattered house we try to mold
I know I should be happy
My life is richer than before
But the sadness of his energy
a life of mine old
Clings in the air of my heart it grabs hold
It strips away the fullness and richness and bold
bringing deja' vu to my mind and sadness and cold
I'm tired of pretending everything is okay
That I'm happy and flourishing, back to my old ways
When in reality, there is emptiness, suffering and decay
I'm mourning a loss still
body, mind, heart and soul
Especially today
death and morbidity in between
I suck up the energy and spit it out in your face
for these moments it does not erase
Sadness and dying are at the forefront today
even though the sun is shining
I'm scared and anxious just the same.
I know you can sense it, and I don't know what to say
I'm in a "funk" as they'd call it
just give me my space
Do I miss the city and the safety it brung?
Confined spaces and cleanliness
Feng shui playing a role
in the old tattered house we try to mold
I know I should be happy
My life is richer than before
But the sadness of his energy
a life of mine old
Clings in the air of my heart it grabs hold
It strips away the fullness and richness and bold
bringing deja' vu to my mind and sadness and cold
I'm tired of pretending everything is okay
That I'm happy and flourishing, back to my old ways
When in reality, there is emptiness, suffering and decay
I'm mourning a loss still
body, mind, heart and soul
Especially today
Saturday, July 04, 2009
This Well Runeth Clean
I read a sad thing today, that I'd written long ago
About a man with a heavy heart and his head hanging low
How he would still continue and come on home
How he was my partner my rock my stone
God, it dug deep and hurt my gut and split my spleen
but no tears came out this time
This time this well runeth clean
I can see how I'm still here in the woods, way deep
I can barely see the sky peeking through in between
glimpses of brightness and bright blue and days wherein,
I smile and appreciate, embracing freedom again
A Choice had to be made, based on honesty and truth
You knew what you were doing, for years and years you knew
You consciously knew what had to be done
because for fear you were hanging on
for fear and for love
don't assault the truth, you really wanted it to change
you tried and you knew
you caused pain that shouldn't have hurt
you were blamed for disasters that could've been overlooked
you were accused and shooed and forced to choose
And today, it seems as though a replacement has been made
but even so it's not ideal nor relative nor similar, not same
and it's more realistic sometimes since you are still so far deep
to see things of a friend, a confidante and a support
Give things time to grow, giving things time to heal
and remember now more than before
this decision you made by sheer strength, force and will
forced you into the darkness,
a cold and unknown world
Alone.
This for many years you knew
You feared and you knew.
And here it is now, True.
But truth has it's price....
it's for the greater good.
Everything, Nothing. You.
I try to remember these things today
on the eve of such an important day,
But it doesn't change the fact.
Sadness, truth, emptiness, truth, honesty, truth
love, life, freedom, I could not have had it with you.
About a man with a heavy heart and his head hanging low
How he would still continue and come on home
How he was my partner my rock my stone
God, it dug deep and hurt my gut and split my spleen
but no tears came out this time
This time this well runeth clean
I can see how I'm still here in the woods, way deep
I can barely see the sky peeking through in between
glimpses of brightness and bright blue and days wherein,
I smile and appreciate, embracing freedom again
A Choice had to be made, based on honesty and truth
You knew what you were doing, for years and years you knew
You consciously knew what had to be done
because for fear you were hanging on
for fear and for love
don't assault the truth, you really wanted it to change
you tried and you knew
you caused pain that shouldn't have hurt
you were blamed for disasters that could've been overlooked
you were accused and shooed and forced to choose
And today, it seems as though a replacement has been made
but even so it's not ideal nor relative nor similar, not same
and it's more realistic sometimes since you are still so far deep
to see things of a friend, a confidante and a support
Give things time to grow, giving things time to heal
and remember now more than before
this decision you made by sheer strength, force and will
forced you into the darkness,
a cold and unknown world
Alone.
This for many years you knew
You feared and you knew.
And here it is now, True.
But truth has it's price....
it's for the greater good.
Everything, Nothing. You.
I try to remember these things today
on the eve of such an important day,
But it doesn't change the fact.
Sadness, truth, emptiness, truth, honesty, truth
love, life, freedom, I could not have had it with you.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Under The Sun
Laying the guitar tracks on the home bound recording stereo
We, he and I getting the songs ready like a shower before the storm
While he hones those production skills
He's grows so fast and I'm amazed everyday
at how far I've come, we've come.
Fornication Under Consent of the King is where it will all culminate
Here, soon, Under The Sun...
Sometimes it feels like the world is waiting, but really time is not of the essence
Things will happen as they will
Laying the guitar tracks, And I will take a lot of naps.
It doesn't feel all that bad to have one thing on your mind
single track hat, tunnel vision cat
it is what is needed to see, to have vision focus and ease
more naps staying healthy and relaxed
that, my dear friends, is where I am at
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Two Years..
Almost to the date. Motor and Maxim play an acoustic show at Fais Do Do in Los Angeles. My first and last show with miss Karen Love, for various reasons. We choose our destiny don't we, and instead of being a folk singer with show tunes misgivings I opted for a heavier side of rock n roll.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
My Day
I don't really have many that understand the journey
From the bohemian laundromat where we used to rinse our clothes last year on a cool summer night in our bodices after a long hot jam everything flyers written in Spanish people trying to sell for hire their services, somewhere out here in the middle of the desert...
I have many exes. ex Friends, ex Girlfriends, an embittered ex husband confused by the dusty route of life I choose to take, an unpaved path. my heaven my way my pleasure my day.
I choose the life of the traveler, the wanderer the vagabond the madwoman, and it's free, probably free like you will never be.
Sitting behind fear, in a shallow empty world of rules and supposed to be's. It's not for me.
I have a cat who lives out in the wild. what we call the serengetti. the dusty weedy front yard of my house in the valley. I don't have time for manicured lawns or paved walkways, geez I have barely any time to play the guitar as much as I would like these days, and I'm on the road never home anyway.
No one really gets this way. No one understands the freedom of my day. No one can disrobe their material fears for one day.
From the bohemian laundromat where we used to rinse our clothes last year on a cool summer night in our bodices after a long hot jam everything flyers written in Spanish people trying to sell for hire their services, somewhere out here in the middle of the desert...
I have many exes. ex Friends, ex Girlfriends, an embittered ex husband confused by the dusty route of life I choose to take, an unpaved path. my heaven my way my pleasure my day.
I choose the life of the traveler, the wanderer the vagabond the madwoman, and it's free, probably free like you will never be.
Sitting behind fear, in a shallow empty world of rules and supposed to be's. It's not for me.
I have a cat who lives out in the wild. what we call the serengetti. the dusty weedy front yard of my house in the valley. I don't have time for manicured lawns or paved walkways, geez I have barely any time to play the guitar as much as I would like these days, and I'm on the road never home anyway.
No one really gets this way. No one understands the freedom of my day. No one can disrobe their material fears for one day.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
She Has No Idea How to Make Friends....
Super hot days are coming
lack of funds headed our way
sadness and fear fills my soul
but deep down I know I will continue to grow
She kills me with her constant paranoia about the other's shirking of tasks
It makes me want to walk out fast.
I feel so trapped
I can't wait to run run run the other way
so cynical and critical of how others live their lives
although it is she that is one of the many lost wives
alone in her despair alone because she wont bend or flex
alone because she won't roam
alone
because she has no idea how to make friends
instead just uses them to dump dump dump
all her materialistic typicalities...onto anyone who will listen
and give nothing in return.
lack of funds headed our way
sadness and fear fills my soul
but deep down I know I will continue to grow
She kills me with her constant paranoia about the other's shirking of tasks
It makes me want to walk out fast.
I feel so trapped
I can't wait to run run run the other way
so cynical and critical of how others live their lives
although it is she that is one of the many lost wives
alone in her despair alone because she wont bend or flex
alone because she won't roam
alone
because she has no idea how to make friends
instead just uses them to dump dump dump
all her materialistic typicalities...onto anyone who will listen
and give nothing in return.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Let Go Of This Rope
Seven weeks and counting....I can no longer befriend you
Seven weeks and counting....I can no longer tell you
Things about my life and my path and my soul, well you don't hear me anyway
You're off and running, worried about your own little world
Lack of carbohydrates coursing through your veins...
It can affect your memory they say.
But lack of anything or too much of something all has the same effect.
Dear old lady, I hear you really like me
Isn't it clear to you.... that's what makes me good at what I do.
Altruistic, gentle and kind, but real and smart out for myself too.
You tried to scare me, to insult me, and that was really ugly of you.
If I were weaker, I may have believed you.
And luckily, I am braver than you.
Sure, I worry at night I lose sleep too, but I know I can think greater thoughts
do greater things and ultimately that's what gets me through
Because I am going to take the biggest leap ever, let go of this rope
it ties me down, like a tether
And I apologize in advance, but I don't really feel bad.
Because you chose security you chose death, survival over living....
That's your choice...not mine.
Seven weeks and counting....I can no longer tell you
Things about my life and my path and my soul, well you don't hear me anyway
You're off and running, worried about your own little world
Lack of carbohydrates coursing through your veins...
It can affect your memory they say.
But lack of anything or too much of something all has the same effect.
Dear old lady, I hear you really like me
Isn't it clear to you.... that's what makes me good at what I do.
Altruistic, gentle and kind, but real and smart out for myself too.
You tried to scare me, to insult me, and that was really ugly of you.
If I were weaker, I may have believed you.
And luckily, I am braver than you.
Sure, I worry at night I lose sleep too, but I know I can think greater thoughts
do greater things and ultimately that's what gets me through
Because I am going to take the biggest leap ever, let go of this rope
it ties me down, like a tether
And I apologize in advance, but I don't really feel bad.
Because you chose security you chose death, survival over living....
That's your choice...not mine.
Friday, May 01, 2009
The Very World That Scares You
She walks in stilts and she spits her will
In our faces sweet as silk
At home she cries herself to sleep and basks in guilt
I say it's ok, but I know tomorrow she still won't see it my way
I say it's ok, because lately she's been drunk everyday
Anyway
And if you don't feel truth gripping you at night
at least sometimes throughout the day
and if you can't seem to say the right words
that give the right impression
or wear the right clothes
just live as close to the edge as is possible
without falling off
Is that all you can do?
I can't see the truth when you're blathering in my face
your idiotic lies you tell yourself
all over the place
But oh yes, I can, once I see what you try to do
Unknowingly, unbeknownst to even you
manipulating the world around you
the very world that scares you
The very world that scares you
I live here too, and I have fears, though none as great as you
Sadness reality grips my soul, your empty sorrows fill your bowl
They stop you dead in your tracks and sever your wings sever your so
I wish you could see, wish you could know
I may appear brave to many this way, I may seem courageous all caution at bay
but it's just that there is nothing to lose
when it comes to happiness and having my way.
A poem....
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dream for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon... I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain mine or your own without moving to hide it orfade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy mine or your own if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful be realistic remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure yours and mine and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes.”
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
~O.M. Dreamer
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Mastering the Art of Money
today i am so happy to be doing what it is I need to
even though my days are long and I am tired right now
peanut butter snacks help me through the day
this lull
but tonight I hope to jam
even though
right now I cannot fathom
I often sit and wonder
As I reflect on lives of others
who work a 9 to 5
do they simply relax at night?
or are they in bands? or fighting some political war?
do they go support art? or are they just living being no purpose or meaning
social life and work in between.
I know this is not all there is for me and so I reflect on lives of others
but could it be they are simpler than me?
Then my mind travels to a memory of a girl a memory of pain and suffering at the hands of a dare I say lady who suggested I too simple.
Today I want to laugh. If only it were so easy. If only you fucking knew me. If only you could get near me. But back then it was me too, putting someone else before me. And the words you later said to me, it's not bad to live simply.
even though my days are long and I am tired right now
peanut butter snacks help me through the day
this lull
but tonight I hope to jam
even though
right now I cannot fathom
I often sit and wonder
As I reflect on lives of others
who work a 9 to 5
do they simply relax at night?
or are they in bands? or fighting some political war?
do they go support art? or are they just living being no purpose or meaning
social life and work in between.
I know this is not all there is for me and so I reflect on lives of others
but could it be they are simpler than me?
Then my mind travels to a memory of a girl a memory of pain and suffering at the hands of a dare I say lady who suggested I too simple.
Today I want to laugh. If only it were so easy. If only you fucking knew me. If only you could get near me. But back then it was me too, putting someone else before me. And the words you later said to me, it's not bad to live simply.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Simple as can be
I haven't written a poem a song for you
Everything is on the back burner
I haven't sat and howled at the moon all night long
for you
since I was 15 and 27 with more than a mild hang over
The lunacy you speak of is herecy or heresay and I don't believe it anymore
I wake and walk in these tall boots, simple as can be
Maybe it's my laziness that has it's backlash in the simple things
which seem big and as great as can be
when writing is the only journey I care to
continue to record my life this way
I'm just a poet nothing more nothing less
with an eye for fancy a knack for style
a desire to be oh so pretty
you and me, and a sewing machine
but you know I have this drive
crazy neurotica ambition
a devilish badass from the outside
who cares really if I cry in the mornings
who cares really if I die of anxiety at night
who cares really that my hairs are graying by the droves
I still have no children and nothing to control
I'm essentially free, free as a bird
and I have nothing to lose or let go.
Everything is on the back burner
I haven't sat and howled at the moon all night long
for you
since I was 15 and 27 with more than a mild hang over
The lunacy you speak of is herecy or heresay and I don't believe it anymore
I wake and walk in these tall boots, simple as can be
Maybe it's my laziness that has it's backlash in the simple things
which seem big and as great as can be
when writing is the only journey I care to
continue to record my life this way
I'm just a poet nothing more nothing less
with an eye for fancy a knack for style
a desire to be oh so pretty
you and me, and a sewing machine
but you know I have this drive
crazy neurotica ambition
a devilish badass from the outside
who cares really if I cry in the mornings
who cares really if I die of anxiety at night
who cares really that my hairs are graying by the droves
I still have no children and nothing to control
I'm essentially free, free as a bird
and I have nothing to lose or let go.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Schooling
No more waiting
No more waiting tables for you in my underwear
No more back seat to this propriety
working with these selfish identities
the people I know trying to develop me as though they have something better than me
always trying to school me
My schooling days are coming to an end, and you can say what you want about this that and the other
and
you can show off your skills and expect me to cower
and
you can try to instigate by suggesting I'm afraid
a deer caught in headlights
you can do what you want
but sometimes the followers will lead
and sometimes the schooled will teach
and sometimes I may close my eyes and give you the finger
and walk away
give you the finger and walk away
half of my years spent
being second best
to you them and everyone else
coveting something meant for someone else
but the day is closing when the hourglass is about half
the day is coming to the mid point
mid life
middle of the road
midlife crisis? I don't think so
Mostly calculated but not always so clear,
I took a backseat to you my dear
for many years
But now my schooling is done
for there were so many things I still have to learn
but will lead in the ways that maybe you cannot follow.
And if you cannot, then that is your own sorrow...
No more waiting tables for you in my underwear
No more back seat to this propriety
working with these selfish identities
the people I know trying to develop me as though they have something better than me
always trying to school me
My schooling days are coming to an end, and you can say what you want about this that and the other
and
you can show off your skills and expect me to cower
and
you can try to instigate by suggesting I'm afraid
a deer caught in headlights
you can do what you want
but sometimes the followers will lead
and sometimes the schooled will teach
and sometimes I may close my eyes and give you the finger
and walk away
give you the finger and walk away
half of my years spent
being second best
to you them and everyone else
coveting something meant for someone else
but the day is closing when the hourglass is about half
the day is coming to the mid point
mid life
middle of the road
midlife crisis? I don't think so
Mostly calculated but not always so clear,
I took a backseat to you my dear
for many years
But now my schooling is done
for there were so many things I still have to learn
but will lead in the ways that maybe you cannot follow.
And if you cannot, then that is your own sorrow...
Your Dour Gray Suit
Today we got the news like something pushing at some imaginary belt line slowly waiting to be excavated
She will be leaving us soon
And I've heard the story all too many times and sang the song myself far too many times
and I've no time left in my day to roam on the quiet shores alone and in my world
I've no time left in my day to kiss these so called wounds nor the ass of some weakling whore
I've no time today to fall asleep at this here blue screen I've no time today to follow my song or sing my dream
I cut tomatoes into my salad as I trudge through the sludge and I keep hearing the echoes of fear which are far too real but hold us imprisoned to an impoverished system that is material and empty
and I hear these voices far too clear and far too loud and I hear their cries trying so hard to bring us down
to keep us down
and hold us down
despite the sweat dripping down our faces and the blood bleeding out of our guts
despite the tears gripping our souls like shoe laces and the spit on our clothes stuck
from the anger you've leashed on us, because you're grasping for survival
all of it masked by the new ones' arrival
focus our energy here, focus our energy there, but at the end of the day everyone knows how dirty is your underwear, your laundry your sock drawer
overflowing with tathered toes you are unwilling to retire.
My dress laced with leather doused with feathers fitted and measured will never fit your dour gray suit.
She will be leaving us soon
And I've heard the story all too many times and sang the song myself far too many times
and I've no time left in my day to roam on the quiet shores alone and in my world
I've no time left in my day to kiss these so called wounds nor the ass of some weakling whore
I've no time today to fall asleep at this here blue screen I've no time today to follow my song or sing my dream
I cut tomatoes into my salad as I trudge through the sludge and I keep hearing the echoes of fear which are far too real but hold us imprisoned to an impoverished system that is material and empty
and I hear these voices far too clear and far too loud and I hear their cries trying so hard to bring us down
to keep us down
and hold us down
despite the sweat dripping down our faces and the blood bleeding out of our guts
despite the tears gripping our souls like shoe laces and the spit on our clothes stuck
from the anger you've leashed on us, because you're grasping for survival
all of it masked by the new ones' arrival
focus our energy here, focus our energy there, but at the end of the day everyone knows how dirty is your underwear, your laundry your sock drawer
overflowing with tathered toes you are unwilling to retire.
My dress laced with leather doused with feathers fitted and measured will never fit your dour gray suit.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Giving up Portraits
I've given into the giving up my portraits, I have no idea whether I come or go
I'm so used to the weathering, the tethering of my dreams
Holding myself back but pushing myself forward
To such opposite extremes
On the one hand I get what I want
in terms of toys and gain
on the other hand I don't get to nourish my soul
like dancing in the rain
on the one hand I help so many others in need
at the cost of me
Sure they get what they want
and they get a piece of me
and at the end of the day, there is not much left
have I surrendered to this soul
of helping people helping people
at the expense of rock and roll
Isn't what I am doing noble? Not if it causes harm
to my soul and the ones around me
Not if I'm barely hanging on...
There are so many things to worry about
About making ends meet and such
and people not capable of bringing in their share
and living in the dust
And at the end of the day
and even the beginning I can barely even start
so saddened by the fear and prospects
of this and that and us
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
To where you have come....
Everyone talking about doing this and doing that
Bragadocious as it may seem to some
Also known as self promotion, albeit to some it's shameless
to others harmless
To what do we owe the hate?
Jealousy it laughs and screams and turns a red steam faced lady
Selfish people talking about themselves, it's easy to complain.
But you've worked so hard, brothers and sisters, and in that there is no harm
There is no harm in letting your loved ones know what you've done
To where you have come
Resistance and admiration
is what you will get, and
you'll learn who your real friends are
you will learn who your true fans are
you will learn so much about these people
when you're name is in lights
you will learn so much about these people
who is real and who is alright
in their lack of action
lack of communication
lack of response
No words say a lot
No communication is in and of itself communication
and those people tell so clearly on themselves
What is wrong with a little praise?
A little acknowledgement of what you've done so far
which is more than many will do in a lifetime
but maybe not enough for you
which may not be a lot to some people
but just enough for you
I praise you my boys and girls
for life is too short to care
we're all on a path here
why not we all share
Be proud of what we're achieving, how little it may seem
Mustn't forget the big picture, the larger things, the scheme
And if they cannot praise you, you know so much about them
too busy in their own mental drama, to really be a friend
Bragadocious as it may seem to some
Also known as self promotion, albeit to some it's shameless
to others harmless
To what do we owe the hate?
Jealousy it laughs and screams and turns a red steam faced lady
Selfish people talking about themselves, it's easy to complain.
But you've worked so hard, brothers and sisters, and in that there is no harm
There is no harm in letting your loved ones know what you've done
To where you have come
Resistance and admiration
is what you will get, and
you'll learn who your real friends are
you will learn who your true fans are
you will learn so much about these people
when you're name is in lights
you will learn so much about these people
who is real and who is alright
in their lack of action
lack of communication
lack of response
No words say a lot
No communication is in and of itself communication
and those people tell so clearly on themselves
What is wrong with a little praise?
A little acknowledgement of what you've done so far
which is more than many will do in a lifetime
but maybe not enough for you
which may not be a lot to some people
but just enough for you
I praise you my boys and girls
for life is too short to care
we're all on a path here
why not we all share
Be proud of what we're achieving, how little it may seem
Mustn't forget the big picture, the larger things, the scheme
And if they cannot praise you, you know so much about them
too busy in their own mental drama, to really be a friend
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Reminders and The Visage....
It got depleted so I had to go back. It's more this time, so it should move faster.
It's more this time, and greater and better, though in some ways it feels like going backwards.
I have to put it back, and let it grow, bigger than I let it grow before and then all of a sudden it was gone.
What else is it good for if you don't spend what you earn? You're hard earned trust turn into rust and pennies in the dust.
She was absent from the page today, but yesterday it was full blown visage. Today, it's one false word and immediate silence. Oh, the reminders of your semblage.
I am too used to the pattern, too knowledgeable about this routine. I can't go back, and no you can't come hither. Hitherto forward in my direction. Not so.
And the day was long and lonely in so many ways, and sadness and emptiness fills my soul. at the end of the day when I am all alone. And your screws loose everywhere. And your mind a cannon not here, but there.
And laughter from the other room I swear. I don't believe it's all that happy in there. But I could be wrong, and I know I'm sad, but I think of the other empty rooms with sadness within the walls, it's a tragedy of the human condition, this I know, and still yet I feel naked.
There are days like these when I write in riddles, and I solve the puzzles and I wanna eat hamburgers and sweaters and heaters and meters. There are days like these when I just wanna slit my wrist so I can feel something, slit my belly so I can feel some pain, fill it up with grease and shame. There are days like this when I am tired of playing your game.
So, I try to do these things that will hopefully join us together, but it won't, cuz you won't and whatever, I don't care. I won't bother you anymore. This time I swear.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
My Pink Sleeves
After a long restful night with you by my side You know I'm dreading the day
Wanna be near you and soft milky white skin the scent so soft
Drear of leaving this side when all I wanna do is watch from within
and hear you play
It sure is a long day, but all that time in between otherwise would be lost
gone to waste, when it just takes a little. And,
I'm rejuvinated today.
I wrap my arms around this being which grows us together
and my breath is shallow but long and deep as it all molds together
My pink sleeves which keep me warm in the cold at night
and you while you sleep.
You breathe deep in your sleep. Your breath your guiding light.
I am relieved and open for you, my dear.
Wanna be near you and soft milky white skin the scent so soft
Drear of leaving this side when all I wanna do is watch from within
and hear you play
It sure is a long day, but all that time in between otherwise would be lost
gone to waste, when it just takes a little. And,
I'm rejuvinated today.
I wrap my arms around this being which grows us together
and my breath is shallow but long and deep as it all molds together
My pink sleeves which keep me warm in the cold at night
and you while you sleep.
You breathe deep in your sleep. Your breath your guiding light.
I am relieved and open for you, my dear.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Neurotic & The Insubordinate
I'm checked out already...Two months have yet to pass.
I'm checked out already.You knew that going in.
I'd hoped it would be different. Figured it'd be ok?
No. We're not good friends. What choice do I have?
Torn between both sides.
the Neurotic and The insubordinate.
Your children cannot stand you. You do not have their best interest in mind.
You want me to support you. I cannot have your back.
It will dig me into an early grave. Out of this place.
I cannot be your slave.
So. What is my next move?
I'm sorry to say it's silent rebellion.
Yesterday was the precursor pinnacle to today's final resolution.
I no longer want to be here.
Don't know how long it will last.
So. Silence & Division.
Meeting after meeting.
No more kissing ass and smiling, subserviant-ism nor having of your neurotic back.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Quiet as Mice.......
In my house, Saturday morning,
Quiet as Mice
One would never know that within these walls
exist so much life
I love these quiet mornings when everyone is asleep
and surrounded by these walls while the sun begins to peek
drinking my coffee and typing these words for you
Another amazing accomplishment, I do have to say
2008 was full of things I am proud of today
A house, a career and music within my reach
A true love and destiny at my finger tips
But then as the household wakes up, and breakfast in bed goes home
I start to regret calling you in here
Because you won't close your mouth
And talk talk talk about yourself like no one has ever listened to you before
And I have to sit here and listen listen to people all day long
all week long
For once perhaps I would like to do the talking.....
And the peace and quiet of the morning is gone....
Long gone........
What You Do Not Give, Sir
Working working working paying dues in so many respects
karma
you have to earn it
karma
you're in the midst of it
and just when you get something good
it appears it is not the end
other obstacles present in your path en-route to where you begin
Is it so wrong that I love you? so wrong that I desire such things
which are just too hard for you to give up
unless I take it from within
Is it wrong to desire balance?
Sometimes it feels like such a sin....
This journey we've embarked on so close to my soul
This journey we've started together in between days, so cold
And at the end of my days you are there
although I cry all day because of love for you sometimes I fear and dread
Your scent invokes passion, a lust I cannot control
with tears in my eyes I leave your side
this you will never know
and everyday my heart grows fonder
it scares me deep within
for I already know to get what I want I have to walk strong in this here skin
But with so much time to think, girl, the lust and passion turns to an obsession
Of what you do not give sir, unless I take it which, perhaps, is what you wish
Everyday you remind me of what an angel you are
Creating together a force
that takes years and time which are arbitrary
if you really consider the source
And you've taught me of all the things over years I have collected
in my heart and in my mind that now must be rejected
for if we hang on to such material, expectations become blockades
the struggle will be greater, while mankind dies with age
I'm trying to be stronger because what I believe is true
And I believe in what we're doing,
Sir, I believe in you
I am trying not to obsess on the energy in my core
And instead I'm trying to channel the words like a wordsmith or a whore
Treating my body like a temple and my mind that is attached
Treating our Being like a fortress ready for attack
For what you do not give sir
I will continue to take
and for what you do not take sir
I will for you make
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I LIVE IN THE AIR
I am a traveling person that does not have a fixed home nor abode. I will roam where ever I please. You may call me a vagabond, nomad, vagrant, or gypsy.
My soul has a fleeting heart and no real home: THE WORLD IS MY HOME. Don't be fooled by the color, texture and features of my face, skin, hair. Don't be fooled by my clothing. I am a child of the WORLD.
I am not an Ethnicity, that which you may want me to be, that which bounds me, limited out to the sea. Although I am proud of my heritage, I am also wild crazy and free.
I am not an IDENTITY. THAT WHICH YOU WANT ME TO BE. I AM SIMPLY ME.
I AM A CHILD of the world. I am neither WOMAN, MAN nor ANIMAL. I DO NOT BREED.
I do not belong to a city, state, country, but rather to the WILD. LIMITLESS. BREEZE.
I do not follow a doctrine or sacrament. I am not of organized religion, culture or tradition.
I LIVE IN THE AIR. LIKE A BIRD, PLANE or TRAIN.
I WILL FLY....
I CAN FLY....
I WILL FLY....
My soul has a fleeting heart and no real home: THE WORLD IS MY HOME. Don't be fooled by the color, texture and features of my face, skin, hair. Don't be fooled by my clothing. I am a child of the WORLD.
I am not an Ethnicity, that which you may want me to be, that which bounds me, limited out to the sea. Although I am proud of my heritage, I am also wild crazy and free.
I am not an IDENTITY. THAT WHICH YOU WANT ME TO BE. I AM SIMPLY ME.
I AM A CHILD of the world. I am neither WOMAN, MAN nor ANIMAL. I DO NOT BREED.
I do not belong to a city, state, country, but rather to the WILD. LIMITLESS. BREEZE.
I do not follow a doctrine or sacrament. I am not of organized religion, culture or tradition.
I LIVE IN THE AIR. LIKE A BIRD, PLANE or TRAIN.
I WILL FLY....
I CAN FLY....
I WILL FLY....
Monday, January 12, 2009
It Seems Like it's Me
You don't like anything at all... not even yourself
some call it insecurity, and my psychobabble friend would call it
low ego strength
I've been trying to be nice for many years it seems
but you still hate and perpetuate the distaste
distrust for yourself and in between
and it seems like its at me you're always pointing the finger
and you make it seem so crystal clear
you make it so it seems like it's me
And years and years of studying Psychology it would seem
that I would have a clue and stop the ass for you I'm kissing
for trying to make you happy, comfortable and safe
when all you do is continue to hate.
And, I am not ok with it at all.
All you people and the people who you hate, and you act like you hate me
have nothing nice to say, look away, dis dis dis or avoid avoid away
I know it can't be me, because I'm really nice most of the time
I know it can't be me because I go out of my way for you all the time
to say nice things to you
and
recognize you
I know it's deep within you and has to be inside you
some fear you harbor about me,
because you really hate yourself
and you are dishonest about it to your face
though your hate runs so deep
Can't you see it's you, not me?
you do it so well
You make it seem like it's me.
In turn, I do these things to test you
I am now admitting to myself, go the extra mile for you
Putting myself out on this shelf
One last gesture of kindness to see if you will take
the bone I throw out to you and if you'll respond in jest
but when all I get is silence or solemn words with no expression
I know I know it right there and then
I have done nothing wrong than try to say "Hey, you are my friend."
But you'd rather spit in my face, and have nothing nice to say
throw my friendship away
what choice do I have
than to simply walk away
I don't need to be treated that way
My friend says it's better to feel sorry for you than hurt or shed any tears
For it's really you who are suffering when you spread your diseased wings
It's hard to feel your pain when you point the finger
make me feel so little, spreading your inner torture
especially when I have tried to be nothing but your friend.
some call it insecurity, and my psychobabble friend would call it
low ego strength
I've been trying to be nice for many years it seems
but you still hate and perpetuate the distaste
distrust for yourself and in between
and it seems like its at me you're always pointing the finger
and you make it seem so crystal clear
you make it so it seems like it's me
And years and years of studying Psychology it would seem
that I would have a clue and stop the ass for you I'm kissing
for trying to make you happy, comfortable and safe
when all you do is continue to hate.
And, I am not ok with it at all.
All you people and the people who you hate, and you act like you hate me
have nothing nice to say, look away, dis dis dis or avoid avoid away
I know it can't be me, because I'm really nice most of the time
I know it can't be me because I go out of my way for you all the time
to say nice things to you
and
recognize you
I know it's deep within you and has to be inside you
some fear you harbor about me,
because you really hate yourself
and you are dishonest about it to your face
though your hate runs so deep
Can't you see it's you, not me?
you do it so well
You make it seem like it's me.
In turn, I do these things to test you
I am now admitting to myself, go the extra mile for you
Putting myself out on this shelf
One last gesture of kindness to see if you will take
the bone I throw out to you and if you'll respond in jest
but when all I get is silence or solemn words with no expression
I know I know it right there and then
I have done nothing wrong than try to say "Hey, you are my friend."
But you'd rather spit in my face, and have nothing nice to say
throw my friendship away
what choice do I have
than to simply walk away
I don't need to be treated that way
My friend says it's better to feel sorry for you than hurt or shed any tears
For it's really you who are suffering when you spread your diseased wings
It's hard to feel your pain when you point the finger
make me feel so little, spreading your inner torture
especially when I have tried to be nothing but your friend.
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