inaction

will it rain will it rain will it rain
you sit and wonder
on your parade
on your day

will she go crazy, or act insane
or will she maintain

not like she used to
but like she always has been
will continue to be
forever

when will it rain
how long will we have to sit and wait
ten twenty years

this life long drought we live in
believe in
ironicity
ironic city

anger and fear
causes wells to dry up
issues that arise in your water cooler
refusing to function properly
as though someone stuck a thorn
or a prick of some sort
into your hole
discomfort
inaction

will you maintain
outlive this pain
be resistant to change

will you sit at your desk and draw
on your carpet
as though you were a seven-year old child again
wishing
dreaming
that the dreams were true another reality were given to you
what do you want to do

live in a big city
work and accomplish
stylistic action
bread and friends

live in a city thats been good to you
work and accomplish
style-wise resuscitation
mis-representation

what leads to inaction
is in your mind

a happiness still shines through

although i have to be quiet in the mid morning dawn
dew drops haven't fallen so soon

a light shines in my heart anew
somethings so long forgotten entere again

i know i was wrong before confused
written words that hurt plans unused

and i'm headstrong and driven and crazy things
when you slower slow slow down way down
still want this energy around

different speeds in life
but still feed each other things like dim-sum and egg-drop
mad like hell for the recognition or some performance
you didn't want to hear
perhaps
but when that door finally closed, and i let it slam behind me, still angry
willing to refuse to follow you, pester you

some things you have to let go
sometimes they come back to you, it's true
going forward is all you can ever do

and there are so few beings in this sphere
that understand me like you do
it was really painful in what is done at you
because who tries to compete, say they're better than you

but jealousy and control, people are not possessions
to be bought or kept in a box
individual entities with a path all their own
mind of thier own
separation always unsues

but if you keep it within you
know that peace is a part of you
and will always be with you
and that you always have the right to choose
a happiness still shines through

what do you share with this end?

there is frigid air amidst our fingers
rotten blue fret with tears

but still i let you in
once in a while
once in a blue moon

and there is too much to do now
and time passes
your wings sometimes like angels
i'm lucky to have you

but tread carefully i say
put it in the right category i say

there are friends who share lunch, a conversation so light
friends who share tea, like shopping on a mid-summer day
friends who get drunk, sometimes you join them in laughter so silly
friends who share an inner sense of style, a museum nightlife
friends who have passion
so much so
they endanger your soul

with a fire for a fashion that will pass in the night
boys who never become men
like dragons in the night

what sometimes you wonder do you share with this end
what exactly do you share with this end?

is it dinner for two
a party at night?
lunch in the sun
a double-date?

we'll figure it soon, out in the open
don't let go of the hesitancy in your eyes

conversations with sydney

whats the new name going to be sydney
conversations and chronicles with a new person
but the same identity or is it changed now?

selling yourself short
realization is not open for discussion
people who feed at the bar
on your empty keys
hollow soul
when you are really so much more like a tree
silent and strong

oh tree oh tree
what is in your name, and who are you sydney
like a trunk or branch
of your leaves, falling at my feet green with envy

because i don't have much and i don't want more
don't need to be encapsulated by these wretched souls
ok, more like empty, crying in, begging me to be with like blank

i talked about you today, to sydney. she is me
or like me, i should say. we
talking amongst ourselves to ourselves
self help me psychology. sydney doesn't know you
or rather you don't get to know her, and i doubt she will be lain
at your door step, waiting for you, letting you in
anytime soon
nor
not ever again
and as one said to her one day, i'll see you when i see you attitude
is even too much time for me so let's just leave it at we''ll see
if i ever have the need. that is if you will have me

because you know, what you do, and i know you will need. but that doesn't mean you will still agree.

after all this anyway

i fell off the tracks again, how did i get so far off
the destined path, and strength of these weeks past

just a few words, a night of sound, loud ringing in my ears
tears never came, but I sat there in the pit

i'm turning it off now for sure. there is hope but type-a
blood is not in me. it could if i lose sleep

and i do anyway all night tossing and turning
what do i care about what you think
after all this anyway

we shared in its honesty is good and its not like i'm cut from this cloth
silently go forward closing this book its long finished chapters overdue
in a library without a view

the silence says more than words ever did. i have always said that to you
and i know you know he knows we all know whats really going on here

the weak one. the one who lacks self respect and dignity
is the last one standing with a smile
but tears somewhere behind lost in the embers of the spirit

there is no fight, nothing left to say, we all know what must happen
and how we then must find a way

the bolshoi dances like a mid summer swan, and lets her skirt flow
ballerina in the air, your dance of your dream somewhere smoked in your hair

and i hold down the keys of some song silhouette, dreaming of these teams
we always felt we deserved and could get, we worked at

but things fall apart and change never fails. it's time for me to collect
and build a world left on hold

circles

moving in circles
the ones that encapsulate
feathers that breed

i'm tired of the themes
in this life
can't figure out ways to make it better

i circulate within
ideas only in my mind
change the outer feel
to help the inner
being

but the inner wants out
when it knows i won't leave
or perhaps i will move

i had it for a day
perhaps even a week
and before that a few

and now it seems gone
lost
sold its soul to an abyss

i create these circles
inside
with an iron fist
that i can't even create
no force

i know i will stay to finish
what's started
but what is not even there
doesn't even have a chance
to exist

style

i was inspired by her hair
day two
so much like something
i used to do
or did
before

no fancy no foder
on her face

but still caring, daring
in a public place

sometimes i feel like its such a waste
for a rainy day or a sad face
with no style

but like one said
it's a state of mind
even when your naked
asleep

when you wash your clothes
lay around
you never know
what will abound of course
where you may have to go

tomboy lipstick who cares
fashion is not just for girls
not a feminist de-construct

do you lose it sometimes
and years go by
it will still be mine
simple but mine
different versions of the same

still sometimes a little nudge
a new face that reflects back

not like those following trends
or try to wear what is only in
this stuff is way beyond them

sometimes what you like is in
easily found
other times you wish you had a sewing machine