Wounded Heels

What We Know

2010-07-07T20:50:00.001-07:00

We know that fleas jump
and dogs bite-
I have known some men who cheat and
many women who lie...
I listen and learn and
not keep score in the corner, but to study
how to
strip a hater's traits
like a boy plucks a flies fly-

Don't ask me
I don't know why
I have to get out what's inside
this ain't what's going on inside your mind
this is mine and I've decided to share it

Is not yours like mine?
Then, fine, let there be no tie
Separate all you want love from grace
Good on you if you can, not really my thing-

I mow the lawn,
I collect the clippings.
My grandfather's barn
not beneath me around me
swirling like molasses
on a stick-
(if you listen closely you may make out the
panthers in the mix)
I do not fear the size or quickness of any man's fist.

By now you'd think I'd done enough thinking
about chain link fences tipped with sharp reminders
of my own tendency towards enemy nature

Maybe that's where we get the nerve to get that
paranoid feeling
when we are stripped of routine.
Ladybugs don't stop to swerve and re-consider
like the drunk at a crosswalk
unsure of any real reason to go.
Horses don't run into trees.

May I?

2010-03-26T14:40:00.001-07:00

e-a-b-e

e-b-a-e

b-a(v)-g(v)-f#m(v)-e

b-a(v) -g(v)-f#m(v)-e

Will I swallow
I will swallow
my pride;
I might as well,
I have nothing to hide.

Will I swallow
I will swallow
my pride.

Oh, but I get the feeling
it won't it be
will it,
be
as easy as I was hoping it might
Oh, but it won't it be
will it,
be
as easy as I was hoping.

(I will or I won't
If I don't I will be willfully wallowing in lies
Will I swallow
I will swallow my pride.)

Yes,
be sure I
will hold any position;
I have confidence in stating
any position to be sure.

Can I
find protection in my documents and still be
spearing, sparing no heart?
Found sparing no quarter?
Explore no joy in killing joy;
revealing moral character-

Have I not:
constructed criticism? marked for removal? insisted on justice? held love gently like the last of the water?

(Will I forgive and swallow my pride;
one is forgone, the other is concluded.)

Will I swallow
I will swallow
my pride;
will I swallow
I will swallow
my pride...

Oh, but it won't it be
will it,
be
as easy as I was hoping it might
Oh, but it won't it be
will it,
be
as easy as I was hoping.

Either it will or it won't
it must be done or we won't
end the cycle of don't do what we don't
I feel moved as if by remote-
yeah, as if by remote.

And:

I will or I won't
If I don't I will be willfully wallowing in pig shit and lies
Why would I do that? I have nothing to hide.
Will I swallow;
I will swallow my pride.

The answer to one question to share
before I die-
Why must we wonder why love must be denied?

"...and crown thy good with brotherhood..."

2010-03-10T20:28:00.000-08:00

I truly am trying not to
but,
and this is no excuse
I
care about what is going on around me-
The pendulum is in a whirlwind.
I stare and the world is still turning;
this is apparently all the proof most need to worry about their credit or
credit debt-
I stare at my house, burning.
I see now that the rafters have decided the fate
of we who must be crushed beneath their fiery weight.
I am not even looking for the oxygen that is left the room.

I soak in the moments of less heat-
adjust my paradigm to this new pain-
I truly am trying not to, but-

Warning: if you are reading these, and not reading them out loud, you may not complain that you do not understand

2010-02-20T22:12:00.000-08:00

i don't want to steal your joy
i guess that is an unintended consequence
i didn't mean to awaken your conscience
i wasn't going to call you out but
i thought you would be awake by now
i have been watching you move your mouth
I have re-trained myself not to only pounce
not to be Pavlov's dog
the bell rings and i go off
no harm intended
and when is it ever?

two problems will require two solutions
more often than we are willing to look for them
if the second bird goes un-eaten, then the wasted effort saved is again re-wasted
finding a truth in stereotype is not ever going to justify hate

this is not about taking away your mania
i don't even need you to be evened-out pavement
this is not that you cannot have anger
not a confrontation
not an intervention
i don't make the rules
just level your tempered
steel reaction
to the actual situation
and keep on your mind the thoughts others have
not for you to see their judgment of you
but so you can see past hasty self-improvement tactics
into
what is happening outside of your eyes

your
shifty mind

i know we both think we tried
i've re-written this a thousand times
still, it's not quite what I wanted to say
you caulk the frame
cannot gauge the loss
bar the reason
en-cage the riot
I have an Idea-
instead,
be quiet.

Yeah!

2010-02-03T15:25:00.000-08:00

Let's talk about your protective outer shell
Please, let's discuss how this barrier wins-
If the exterior world is still in your face and
despite your excuses
the hatred still exists-
On and on and on you go about the necessity of
hiding in your little room; staying in your self-defined milieu
creating the logic that has twisted
and now will eat you.
More about how clean your soul is,
less about this bullshit that surrounds you you say.

Can Kicking

2010-01-30T21:01:00.000-08:00

It may well be in whispers
but the story will be told-
No more kickin' the can down the road

You can print it in italics
Shit, print it in bold-
There will be by me no more
kickin' the can down the road

Problems will crop up on their own,
sure, as we know, but
denial's misfortune is my wisdom foretold-
Each day's trouble is sufficient to it's own
No more kickin' the can down the road

I used to claim genius,
dressed for the job I would have in time-
Little did I know it was the job I held at the time.
I do it today-
I'll be at work the day I die

I hear you say recognize me;
funny, I don't look the same-
If you knew my face, you can be sure
I don't know your name

It may well be in whispers,
yelled or telephone sold...
but the story will be told-
There will be by me no more...
no more kickin the can down the road.

I Write Stories Too

2010-01-21T13:15:00.000-08:00

The following is a true conversation between two idiots I overheard in gym class while the teacher, a guy named Rock, no joke, had stepped out, before push-ups and stretching, when we were lined up against the south wall:

hey
hey what
put that in there
put what
this (holds safety pin)
what?
put that in there
no, i know, no way
yeah
no
put this in there
no
c'mon take it put it in there
uh-unh
pussy
fuck you
fuck you pussy
fuck you
c'mon put it in there
no
(3rd) he's coming back!
pussy.
pussy
fuck you
fuck you
fuck gimme that

OW!

(laughter)

what the fuck dude
ha ha ah
yer fucking stupid, dude.
ow
ha ha aha ahahaha
dumbass.
I hate you.

OKAY WE ARE RUNNING LAPS TODAY

Blessed Baby

2010-01-19T15:25:00.001-08:00

Move these boulders
we are soon to be-
Soon to be amazed by the shoulders we're over
We've been gliding, coasting, never-ceasing, not boastful-
the smudge of hard work still gets "dirty elbows"
"scraped knees"
Mr. Happy-face-day disappeared (...and if it isn't what is it? and if it is, what is it? what is it if it isn't?)

Blessed baby be, so that I am moved by the boldest of deeds
not just actions I witness
but the ones I know and do Not see
Wizened and brazened, approved of by the eldest,
Wrapped in soft worn blankets
Quilts of an age-old child's dream.

She is not a seal-

2010-01-19T15:22:00.000-08:00

she is not a seal caught in an un-intended net
not a spider whose parachute cut loose and is now cast upon the wind
she is not the mite whom, upon jumping on a bird
is moved from Denver to Albuquerque
and then moved back again

she is not the answer to my un-spoken prayer
she carries not the whisper of my mother's hair
she is not the concrete missing from the frame
stairs, steps, walls, roofs,
foundation, weather-vanes

how will I ever write the letter to her if I never let her leave?

Big Love Baby

2009-11-04T13:57:00.000-08:00

From an upcoming release on Imaginary Records
\\\
The New album from legendary soul man Fine Print
\\\
A YouMixItProduction
\\\
"Exploration in a new and different sound than any of us expected." -no-one so far
\\\
Don't Be Sad, It's Only The Blues
\\\
featuring 4 new works of middling incompetence JUST LIKE THIS ONE!
\\\
And "Big Love Baby", now playing in his head!

I gotta big love baby
I gotta big love for you
I gotta big love baby
Mama I swear it's true

right here in my pants
I gotta biig love for you
right here in my pants, baby
this love's for you

I gotta big love baby
My love, it grows for you
I have a huge love, baby
in the form of some hot soup

I gotta big love baby and she
knows it's true

I gotta big love, baby
I gotta share my love with you

I've got so much love to share, baby,
I know you hear me, too
I gotta big love baby
I won't share her with you

I gotta big love, baby
my heart, and body, too
and it ain't never gone no-where
just feel the love around you

2009-10-30T08:47:00.000-07:00

from the day we went to find your heartbeat:

A 24-year-old woman who died Tuesday at the UC Davis Medical Center after
being hospitalized with the H1N1 virus is believed to be the first person in Sacramento County
to die from what is more commonly known as swine flu.

so please do not delude yourself as i have that there can be no

"concreteness" (thumps own two fists together)

to your dreams

not only will your words have actions

your actions will have served as words

and meanwhile your body will be out to get you.

remember we know what God wants is whats good

2009-10-30T07:31:00.001-07:00

after I decided to just be happy
to let myself be the way I felt to be, like being
I knew immediately that I wanted no part of the others
no part of the way that I could see myself acting
I judged and felt judged
I allowed the judges to judge and I felt great

When I consider the actions of others
I consider myself
I know as well my failings
I trust and decided to trust until I was trusted
After I decided to act in a trustworthy fashion
I felt pressured and comfy, too.

Choose Now, @thehour

2009-10-29T17:12:00.001-07:00

I will still serve You-
Though I might run out of words
I know words get in the way.
When emotions are entangled
I am no automaton,
I am no slave.
I am no slave-driver.
I will still serve You-

When the little devil that hides
spews a spittle of hateful lies
from the dark corners of brittle little minds
With Hope and
Faith and Love,
like a little child lost,
I will still serve You-

I will have lost my reason(s)
I will despise my own logic
I may live to see all the seasons
and I will live them for You if You will-

I will have turned my back on the answers
Stuck my hand through the plaster
Known the rebuke of my Master's long-simmering Rage

For those who will not see or even
choose now not to hear
Not for them but for You do I fear

I will still serve You.

ed·i·fi·ca·tion (d-f-kshn)n. Intellectual, moral, or spiritual improvement; enlightenment Main Entry: ed·i·fi·ca·tion Pronunciation: \ˌe-də-fə-ˈkā-s

2009-10-05T22:33:00.001-07:00

I write, yes
for my own edification,
for the moment where my fingers are lost
between the thought I have
and the keys I press.
I write for the music I hear when tilting my head just so-
I write to get my mind going well enough and coherently when I feel slow
until, unrestrained, I produce a very satisfying "clickety-clack"
(though not, I must say, as satisfying as the tenor of an old typewriter).
I write for the feeling of drunkeness, of
out-of-controledness
the richness of power that choice brings,
I write when I feel like I have to say SOMETHING;
when the long thoughts become repetitive sentences and visualized ideas
(I mean, I have been thinking all day about
what must be considered-)
I write to seek solutions.
I write for the chance to say something that seems too simple, too reasonable, too commonsensical
to have not been said in so long...
I write to shame the fear that impregnates immorality.
I write because I remember writing everything I have written;
I remember the tune, if not the chords,
where the inspiration came from,
what mood precipitated the chosen phrases,
the people in my life who where important to me at that time
I write for the words I use, for their opportunity to shine,
I write because when I don't write
I realize I am robbing myself, not the universe
of some essential truth
that can only be reached and understood while writing.

So How Much Was Your Allowance?

2009-09-28T21:42:00.000-07:00

I remember once I got my dad for ten bucks because I thought my allowance was too low. I was freshly ten, which just means never being single digits again, but I thought it was code to the universe for "entitled to free time." Yet most every school day I woke at 5:15 to:

1. Turn on the back water for the lawn

2. Turn on side water for the plants

3. Feed the Koi

4. Feed chickens and collect eggs

5. Wash and empty dishwasher if not finished from night before

6. Turn off the water after fifteen minutes, repeat for the front lawn and back row of plants

7. Shower, eat, hand water plants on front and back patio

8. Feed and water dog, cat, clean dog poop from garage

9. Sweep kitchen, hall, both decks

10. In the winter, I stoked both fires and pulled at least a wheelbarrow full of log for the day and stacked it between spiderwebs next to the sliding glass door.

Man, I know there was more, and on weekends, I was busy, or expected to be busy most days, until ten o'clock. Cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming the main rooms,dusting the antique furniture, cutting lawns, re-sodding plants, laying brick or stones, etc. Each season meant a different thing; before fire season, there must be defensible space, before planting season, we must weed, aerate, and irrigate, before winter, there must be wood. Before spring, the house must be immaculate. The mosquito trees (manzanita) must be cleared in the fall, the pipes replaced after the last melt.

Early every summer, Dad and I hopped in the truck and headed to the most remote places in Northern California to climb the longest stretches of dirt road on foot, only to fish for three hours and decide if we ought to come back with the Jeep and some chain later. And that's if we found anything. Those days I don't remember well. I do know that having finished the falling of trees and the sawing into logs by himself, my job was splitting and stacking the three cords we could fit into the back of the green GMC. Can't just toss 'em back there, you stack a cord cross-angle, neatly, so as not to waste space. Which, if you can imagine, meant not being free all day until dark to ride my bike, instead sweating an awful lot, building the strong muscles I feel atrophying today, and drinking RRRRRRR's horrid ice tea.

We went camping in the middle of summer for two weeks or so a year, at a little hideaway up in the California area of Tahoe. It was in Desolation Wilderness, near Ice Floe Reservoir, not the more public, accessible place just fifteen minutes up the road we ducked out to for a few hours of water-skiing in the evening, most every other weekend. That was where I learned to slalom and not step on glass within hours as a seven year-old. The first day, the "leaving" day, for Hope Valley, was the same every year. We woke up early to get ready, to see that everything at home was done. I would try to stay out of the way, hang out near my room, getting the daily chores done. RRRRRR and Trish swam through the kitchen, preparing the the two big coolers. That was where we put enough meat and produce to last a week. The ingredients for S'more's and the other sundries were picked up when we stopped to gas the boat at the country store. RRRRRR, who liked to direct me with shouts, had me running around the house filling duffels with clothes and hygiene. Dad typically avoided the nonsense by staying outside triple-checking the boat and the truck and the car RRRRRR uses to drive with Trish to the actual campsite. I know it's almost time to round up Ty Cobb, the family dog, when Dad would start the Jeep parked out back so if we need his brother to come get us he can.

California's drought years meant the water level was never the same two summers in a row. Sometimes, it came up so high I spent the whole two weeks on my bike, riding until it was time for Dad to go out on the boat again. More often, it was so low I could get lost between the dunes, hiking down where another year could not reveal, forsaking shoes and sinking until my chin got a mud bath. And I never knew until we crossed the dam what the water level was. After backing in the boat, though, vacation was started. Trish and RRRRR take the car and the truck to the site, Dad and I and the dog meet them in the cove, and the camping trip is underway.

The pitching of tents, the laying of kitchen tarps, the staking of claims...the Alden's instilled in me the Camper's Code, which is extremely basic and simple. "Leave the place nicer than you found it." He calls me over, just as I'm ready to run off through the sand to the wind-whipped shore and freeze(?) my toes, tells me I can have a penny for each piece of trash I pick up, and hands me a trash bag. The first day was not going to end up being a chore for me. I started by walking the tree-line, picking up after strangers, and only the trash that was valuable to me, until I realized that every piece of trash was valuable to me. I sat down with my eight-gallon bag
full of muck-brimmed liters and twisted aluminum on a mound of sand covered in broken glass.

Ten dollars a week. That's if I didn't "mess up." I counted the glass by the fives, the tens, the dozens. When I knew he couldn't say there wasn't ten dollars worth of removed danger in that bag, I took it to him; when I knew there was more than one thousand pieces of glass in there, that was when I went to him to ask for the money. He cocked an eyebrow and told me I would be expected to pick up "trash" when we left in two weeks, and gave me the ten dollars.

Which I spent a week later when we went back to the country store for sundries and gas, on Atomic Fireballs.

Still, there Are Winners...

2009-01-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

You've got your newborn babies and your wasted cigarettes
and you've got your blank pieces of paper
on which you write about the love that you haven't lost yet.
You've got your Fourth of July picnics and your expensive shoes...
You've got your offensive linemen and your...all of you, all of us...special interest groups
but, there are winners.
Still, there Are winners.

You've got your adoptive mothers and your unnecessary lawsuits
You've got your fatherless children and your creditors who laugh when they call
You've got your idea of what is right and wrong...You've got your own beliefs on how we evolve
You've got your once-a-year Catholics some people they love Jesus but have nothing to repent
You've got your weekly check-earner who through loans of not-real property support
the Great 2%...
But there are winners
Yes, there are winners
Yes, there are.
i can tell you
And there's nothing quite like coming home to
Re-discover the sparkling gold
There are pieces of the puzzle that fit that we don't own

(Look, at us, how far we've grown apart)

You've got your doctor's oath's, your royal oats
Your patriotic demise
You're sworn in once, what, it wears off?
We are peers over whom we preside
I've found some winners, though, man, some winners,
Not just one.
Yes, there are.

You do have your gospel singers, they get off the ground in a hurry
You've got your starving politician, shaking hands in the street
You've got the love in your own heart, a good seed,
Not spoiled with pride.
Not ruined by greed.
You've got the time that you are given
Not a monument, not a moment more or less (someone calls they take you off a list)

I've never met an angel yet
not one who knew exactly How to live.
But, I did meet one that told me, it's not what we take, it's what we give
A winner, that one a winner,
one righteous man.

You've got your politicians whom you pay to prey upon your fear

warning signals
And you've got your social workers who listen with one turned ear
And you've got me right here next to you
as long as our love survives
And you
with your dirty jokes...
Bite your tongue!
Bite your tongue!
Bite your tongue!

Yes, I Said "Alas"

2008-12-30T00:02:00.000-08:00

I remember when I was a poet
and every word that I would write
would have some deeper veiled meaning
every word would carry with it
some intensity that could be felt by its
very existence, even seemed
to change the very world
and instantly sometimes, too.
But alas, my intensity has burned out, even now,
Your attention is wavering
I go on to be a slave to the very things we abhor
There really is no choice.

as with all, read this one out loud

2008-12-20T11:00:00.000-08:00

you
turned away from my kiss
before
you left with him
now
i'm about to forgive you
somehow
life is supposed to go on

i know i'm selling out
i know i'm cutting myself
what good can love do when all we share is suffering?

I'm the one down on my knees

When it's you who should be begging please

i'm angry for loving you

i'm angry for missing you

if i could kiss you again

i would kiss you again

I'm the one down on my knees

Silly Man

2008-08-22T13:52:00.001-07:00

7-6-08

I can feel like I can feel and hear
The air as it leaves my nose
I can catch myself doing something
And know damn well that I knew I was going to do it
(Like ogling the crack in the ass of the girl up front
Content to be knowing that I know was sup)

There is a (…) strange and different weave of my love
Jaunting along,
Floating w/ me
Of means not selfish conceited concerns the way it seems
Knowing my love is right behind me
I behold it, it is beauty

I feel and hear like I can see every prayer is heard on Sunday
You, of
What can I accuse of you?

(in case you were wondering how fast we’re going…
We could be going 85…I dunno)

We know, it seems like a mistake
To even think that there are mistakes
Like treason’ believing foes from vast vapid, rapid, opinions
Form, conspire and deliver the end times
Insipid plots and attacks
Republicans democrats
There will be no re-trials denies, covered-up resistance
No-one in our country should be proclaimed a “public nuisance”
All I can read is distress and bereavement listings

i fear my sadness has gone
I don’t feel self-conscious I feel awake
Paranoia and phone rings you
Death called you and you are the same

Tiny Torrent

2008-06-04T22:41:00.002-07:00

Leave behind:
Fear of abandonment & abandoning.
Understanding difference
No difference and in no way
(in between the way she tells me
She sees when I don’t know she’s looking; )

Roller-coaster residue-

I still feel pockets of air in the water around
me, and I can’t seem to, don’t want to

Enjoy:
The sun
Finally chasing thunder clouds east-
Begin drying drops
Before the tiny torrent can begin-
The taste under your nose
of river water
Burning like a shot of Jack-
(eggs on the sidewalk)

The company you keep-
and the way love treats love

the desire so intense

2008-06-04T22:41:00.001-07:00

the desire so intense
not intended for young audiences
the way a tooth can separate and
become a piece of the tile, biting carpets’ edge
like a termite, ground to dust
what was to become my source of trust

you let it go
you don’t let it haunt you

Can't Say I Never Tried

2008-06-04T22:40:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, I’m your son
and as my father
me being 5 is okay.
Mistakes overcome themselves
Compulsive behavior corrects itself
Clatter murmurs sleepy whisky overtones that we know how to adjust
When they go sharp, or, forbid,
drop flat (!)
And somehow the show goes on,
broken legs and all.

Sometimes, I’m your friend-
As your friend-
Your concerns worry me
What you are into I’m all over
But your misplaced confidences consume me
You refuse to hear my poetry
You don’t even mean to betray me, you think
And the way that you have been betrayed by others you’ve helped
Well, that’s not ok
It’s not okay with me-

Sometimes when you talk to me like I’m 5,
I’m not
and sometimes,
when you think I don’t hear you
o, I do
and sometimes what I think I understand, I don’t
Sometimes all the things I do and don’t know
Disappear-

So now I know what I knew
So much for wisdom and creative opportunities

For a Dead One

2008-06-04T22:38:00.002-07:00

in my dream you ran your hand across my lips
like a child in an open field
the wind it tried to keep up with you
but i cannot fly

(shera) Lullaby

2008-06-04T22:38:00.001-07:00

I got caught up again
But I’ll get up again
I grow tired and weary of always giving in
Somebody stop me before I kill again
I got caught up

I got caught up again
But I’ll get up again
Sometimes the speed of life is more than I can keep up with
Somebody please, before I do it again
I got caught up

I got caught up again
But I’ll get up again
You are not my equal and I am not your friend
Somebody stop me before I kill again
I got caught up

She asks me,
When does the struggle end?
I told her it already did
She said I’m like a light at the end

Somebody stop me before I kill myself again
I got caught up

Heal

2008-06-04T22:37:00.001-07:00

Heal,
Though I know sickness
I cry out to this world
Feel this piece as you cross the gate
Remember me as you enter
These aren’t words I doubt to speak
Dare me to be a thief?
The lies of death by light revealed
All is all that I once feared
My need for love became my grief
My love for you my only greed
As a playwright
I may play, right?
I store my treasures
Don’t laugh at my receipts-

These are words I doubt to speak

So, shadow man?
You are me
Everywhere the devil is found nailed down to wounded beauty
And indecision leads me but
Your smile always saves me
Momma, I dumbfound me so
Let’s pack up and go home

(we got caught up running in sand again)

Heal though I know no sickness
I cry out to this world
Feel this piece as you cross the gate
And kick the dust off of my boots as I leave

Dweller

2008-06-04T22:11:00.000-07:00

Something’s always on my mind
Something’s always on my mind
I can’t let it turn to rust the water in my mouth
Doesn’t matter what you say
I can’t let it drag me down

Something’s always on my mind
Something’s always on my mind
I will walk the straight path to catch the one who sets the fire at my feet
And when I cannot find the words you will give them to me to speak

Something’s always on my mind
Something’s always on my mind
Can’t spend my life dwelling on all the places that I’ve been
Wake up walk around dreaming of torture that wont end

Maybe
Just maybe
Things are gonna be alright
Maybe
Just maybe
Things will work themselves out fine

It’s not like guilt is so hard to find

Something is always always on my mind
I can’t help it it’s always on my mind

Someday I’ll forgive and forget
Someday before I die

Massacre

2008-06-04T22:10:00.000-07:00

Massacre
You come to me
Bringing me back to
Dreams I’ve had
Since before I knew I was dispensable
Since before I thought I had the cure
O massacre
You’ve come for me
There is no contentment in the pursuit of trivial pleasure
All these minor lessons we’ve ignored together
Cannot comfort us as the time for comfort has elapsed

So my exterminator
You can take advantage of me
You wanted to take my misery and make it yours, well
Now it’s yours
Massacre me in mine and yours
Naiveté
and Massacre let us not forget-
what we do is what we get
you cannot remember until you forget
so kill me and get on with it

I am in a weighty situation
Suffocating in my grave
Trembling in anticipation
I am familiar with this day

I'mPerfect

2008-05-12T14:16:00.000-07:00

The wide-eyed many story glare
of those who stare
back at you
and it's darker than usual in here
I can't hear
a damn thing, you think

Maybe you could see to flip the switch on the wall above your head on your way in
if you ever see anything at all-

And you're the perfect way to ruin my day

Take off your hat in the presence of a lady
Stand up, when she enters the room
I wanna keep her with me
I wann keep her alive
I want to keep her safe

You thought you saw a fragment of your reflection so you
point your tongue in my direction
and it is ok to check
because the moon is still there
Creating Deja vu
Sparkling on the edge of the sweat on her forehead and
you swear you could feel the earth move

And the many-storied glare
of those who stare
Back at you

I don't want to know
what you're about to tell me
I don't want to talk about it, we've been through this before
It's just gonna be another show with me dancing on the table
Perfect chance to prove to me that we can't do this on our own

(she, asks me, to open the door when I leave
and darling, we, no we, we don't get any younger)
Shhh...think of me as a metaphor

It's the mirror
It's the mirror
It's the mirror
And you're the perfect way to ruin my day.

Moonlight Girl

2008-05-12T14:04:00.000-07:00

Her time spent on bended arms raises alarms
Razors are sharp
You can't always come out with the truth from the top
You never know, it might piss her off and you
Don't want that-
You
Don't want to be dishonest

I won't fall for anything less than the love that I was promised

Even though it is easy
to be efficiently lazy
to sleep with any lady
even the crazies

Too easy to Give up
Like Amnesty Imprisoned
Could end up
looking incredibly ridiculous
egg on your face
dislike the taste
begging for Grace

Avoid the displeasure-
take extreme measures

cut off the circulation
to the women who do not

enhance your manhood

you have the right, will, and responsibility to
find the right woman for you

maybe a moonlight girl...
(it's so obvious)

Patchwork America (mighta been 09/00)

2008-04-24T19:33:00.000-07:00

Patchwork America
This is my family
Sitting around and getting fat on the fact that
Jesus died for me
Are we condemning ourselves to being
saved by the skins of our teeth
Patchwork America shout
welcome home to me

Patchwork America
This is our family
So are you listening when we speak
Or do you still think it's make-believe?
Are we still holding on to what we know are false beliefs?
Patchwork America
Patchwork America

And in the towers of our masters
they mock us with ourselves
Selling us false promises so we'll
Gladly stock their shelves

Patchwork America
This is His family
So pay your tithes, wear your plastic smiles
and don't fall into my deceit
We victims of self-defeat take credit for the victory
Patchwork America shout
Welcome Home to me

And in the towers of our masters
they mock us with ourselves
Selling us false promises so
We'll gladly stock their shelves

We're greedy for the torture
(everyday) we thank them for the pain
Inside doubt is the power to heal
All hidden in His name

Patchwork America
Patchwork America

Wounded Heels

2008-04-22T18:25:00.000-07:00

I've been expecting you
Not to like me
So, go ahead and surprise me
If that's the thing you think
You can do
And I learned a long time ago
When you love someone let 'em go
So why am I
Still holding on to you?

I'm walking on wounded heels
I'm shooting myself in the foot again
Drifting in and out of what you might call sleep
But what the hell would you know
'bout what it's like to be me

I've been expecting you
To be just like me
And I know that it's unfair
And it does not surprise me
That you are and I am not who I used to be

I'm walking on wounded heels
Shooting myself in the foot again
And every now and then when
I forget to breathe
I lose myself at the intersection of
you and me

She's outside watering flowers
I'm hiding my self-denial
And she looks at me with disgust through a wire from
1000 miles away
And I guess you never know
What you have

Until you lose it

No. 1

2008-04-22T18:16:00.000-07:00

This blog is new. It is the culmination of works by my genius husband. Sure, he's the blog owner, and he'll be on here to post little bits of his mind and soul, and he'll probably take umbridge with my use of the word "genius" to describe him. But so it goes.

I'll probably be back with some random shit of my own. And so that goes.

Until anon, I'm off.