Tag Archives: Reflections

Wake

9 Nov

Rain (Setting Out in the Leaf Boat) – The Innocence Mission

There are times I want to tell you what you want.

That life’s the knot that keeps the boat upon the shore.

And who am I to deny you?

We share a tender untruth.

There are times I want to tell you what I want.

Perhaps a life untied resides in minds and sighs

of others? Helpless answer.

A tear a cry for candor.

Given that we’re given such a slender light

and sing at fifty plus two million microhertz.

We could reduce our fractions

and try to gain some traction.

A lonesome and a foreign form of friction

with a cadence that spans and pans for miles.

Denial that is dutifully

overclocking futilely.

And in the end if you intend to put this off,

the concept that the shapes of vessel’s wakes

are wings of doves.

Echoed loves.

Your suffering, this reckoning approaches.

Folks we know get shuffled off in coffers.

Your point of view

will shatter you.

Verse

8 Nov

Major Label Debut (Slow)

I could give it to the gulls most every season.

And I could split my eyes upon the stone.

Some chore to do.

Some thought to atone.

Well I’m just here to talk about the day

the autumn leaves had spun you a dress

down by the lake.

Totally weightless.

And I’m not fucked up

anymore

And im not fucked up.

A lot of times it’s not a certain thing.

And God I hate the way you shook my shoulders.

The demons I sing

have melded with hers.

Taste her hair, fumble pants.

Easy to sing the words that I know.

Dancing a dance

to the song that I wrote.

And I’m not fucked up

anymore.

Not fucked up.

In the end it’s medication I seek.

A quick dose of feeling old feelings.

Sound of the creek,

another form of healing.

Unless it’s mistakes I make again.

Then I live them every verse,

in every refrain,

shame and a curse.

I’m not fucked up.

Anyways…

Not fucked up.

I know it’s the case with every good thing.

The way the down’s just a little bit further.

You know every ring

comes with a burglar.

But back to the foliage dancing,

and pretty birds with colorful ribbon.

That’s really everything

I came to speak on.

Halls

22 Oct

Gangbang Suicide – Kevin Drew

When you first spoke you filled my halls,

Reinforced with madrigal.

I swept, I swooned, I wept, I clawed.

Well you and me, we did it all.

They come to me to take a dime

every pulse past one past mine.

And on my slab my head to toes.

The skillful hands. The hook to nose.

Calming mist, sound of rain,

bottling my strange refrain.

You can see in lined up tinctures

every thought, a blaze of pictures.

Will you see the man I am,

or the man you loved from Bellingham?

Regardless of your choice

forever hear my love my voice.

Minutes spent, our pas de deux,

softer moments, rough ones too.

Counting constellations on your face,

moving in to our first place.

Leaky sink all patter piddle,

our free bed that sunk in the middle.

Our book of love by definition

written by the traits we’re given,

mingling through calls and cues.

Practicing. Scuffing shoes.

Well our tunes they grew with age.

I don’t regret a single page.

When we’re vials behind the glass,

docked the boat, tied the mast,

left behind our chest of gold,

written word, pictures posed.

Blueprint us, not the same.

Just our house, just our frame.

But memories friends recall,

forever speak and fill our halls.

On the day the din falls flat

our frame remains a simple map.

Because in the end that’s who we are.

Some shrouded shapes, lying on a bridge, looking at the stars.

Pact

1 Oct

If born a bird

I’d flip and flit

and ride the wind

down to water

sun and light, well it’s the fodder

we frolic in and when it’s done

go home and sleep wake up and start another one.

And now I’m nine

that show and tell.

I’m heading home

this desperate spell.

I trade it all, I dig the well.

Well freedom’s free when wandering,

but I don’t care I’ve had enough of floundering.

And now I’m me

you tell me that

I’m not the sum

of all my past.

Consumed with finding missing mass

I scrape my mind and find a voice,

The answer to the past sub now is choice.

If I was a bird

I’d flip and flit

and chart the winds,

distinct contour,

sun and light, well I won’t falter

I frolic in and then decide

to sleep, wake up and head towards my workward ride.

Mantra

24 Aug

East Virginia – yMusic/Tallest Man On Earth

Sharp feeling from knowing

I know too little

about too few.

An isolation coming to.

Forensic eyes I always knew.

A sight, a sign I’m wading through.

Well I would like to be

every thread of me.

Every possibility.

My woven tapestry

Cauterized. Epoxied.

A futile flesh amalgamy.

I’d rather be inside some dark holler

where the sun refused to shine

than to wear some distant

wind warm upon my face

as if it knows the time it tears;

I ponder where it’s born.

And as long as we’re lounging in these dreams,

or wading in my tantrums,

I’d read my worn recipe,

remove some bits, clarify some.

Because I don’t see these mantras

etched upon the lids of the man I want to be.

Somewhere unfinished

21 Aug

Portland Cello Project – Please Leave a Light On

Your impossible heart, it’s soft pace.

Strings of your hair don’t fade from my face

when I awake. No more strands of smoke

that fade then flash in crepuscular strokes

before falling in the grains of shade,

behind the bed where beauty was made.

I’m no stranger to killing in my dreams.

Fire in my heart and steel in my beams.

image: Jesper Hauge

Home is me and home is her.

24 Jun

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Safe – Nosaj Thing

These are the lost hands that wrote my future.

The lost feet that are my ship.

Navigator’s lost the compass and we’re unsure,

but I’ll keep these sails taut til they rip.

I breathe in my chest and I shoot from the hip.

 

A world of mistakes are mine to make.

Mine to create.

I shake em loose

and ingest them willingly.

because there’s no soul in living blissfully.

I flee in my rest, and I shoot from my lips.

 

Connor, death is ever present.

every day’s a day gone on.

You’ve still got some time.

Some days to hear death’s song.

 

Sailing’s fine and living is nice and if

nothing’s nothing til I try it

I’ve got play to work

and a song to find it.

 

I teethe at the breast, and I’m food in the crypt.

I peak at the crest, and I sail til they rip.

 

Image – Abri_Beluga

 

Diving

20 May

Mimicking Birds – The Chimney Sweep

 

I slipped fate.

The coarse, rough, and fear

feeling midpoint.

Trampling medians between

The   plunge       and     the  numb.

Some doubt grows and fades.

A dying breath

thick with spit and

maybe this is right.

Maybe I’m comfortable with this.

Or maybe my compass got stuck a long time ago.

Either way I don’t think I’m that OK.

Rebirth.

It takes nine months to come to this.

Every child begins the world again,

to some extent,

and so have I.

And I will not stop dying.

One day The Ship will sail.

And I’ll be on it.

 

image: fiddle oak

A poem about my new shirt!

23 Apr

Black Moth Super Rainbow – Lake Feet

We’ve all got skeletons,

skin deep down.

When we get cut they try and climb out.

So we curse and shout some

skin deep noun.

Send those fuckers home in pale green gowns.

We

make them hurt.

We

drown em in

ethanol.

Sewn into the scars in our bodies. Hide our bodies inside clothes. Close those jackets, never to be opened or exposed.

Because

We’ve got a fear of being open and exposed.

Of

taking off our clothes.

Of

the stories of our scars.

Of

all these bones of ours.

What a world this would be if we had no skin.

No muscles or nerves,

nothing to hide in.

image: unknown

 

Flames

20 Feb


The Walkmen - On the Water

The dragons head for air,
and the part timers follow suit.
Flash clubs, three in a row, dig 
                            graves 
                             with 
                            spades.
I can't explain how I feel.
Sea lions comfort me.
It does a thing.
Still though, I'm breathing flames.
I make calm to my limbs.
Simmer some.
Let's do this tango.
Throwing in
some calculated grin.
And yes,
restless dreams come in episodes,
but everyone dies when the sun explodes.
Sky goes dark, and,
I can only see when I breathe.
                                    Sea?
Out.
          Light.
Out.
          Light.
Out.
          Light.
Headed in the wrong direction.
Not again,
                     Magdalene.
You lost the light of the stars.
Shut out by fire.
And I cannot explain how I feel.
And Sea lions comfort me.

image:Pikesville