He was thrown from the tallest tower
Fall into something that is unknown.
You never see the pain in a man
Until it's gone.
As he falls the wind pushes his hair back.
Something he's known before.
Just like Ma' used to do when she promised toys
How different it feels now, a promise of something more.
Where do I go to escape this sorrow?
I've never met a man that doesn't want to go.
As he lay within the twisted metal of his own grave
You can see the flares flicker from far away.
You can hear the ocean weep as the ambulance repeats
Mamma clucthin Pappa's hand as they tremble at the scene.
I wish you could've seen your friends and family, everything you leave.
As she lay upon her bed which is too perfectly made.
Her breath is short and struggling to meet the air.
I fight back tears as I walk in, my brother says, "Take this."
I swallow it and for a moment I've forgotten why I'm here.
Tommy James.
Cody James.
Delores names,
"Daniel James"
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
From Whence We Came
I can see our house by that lake where you and I first met.
How soft the sunlight did feel as it warmed us,
made us disappear into the bottom of waters.
our fathers were fishing by the dock.
We shared a kiss to unite us, from whence we came is the place where we'd depart.
I can see doorsteps and footmats, different names for the same things.
I can see Delores & Johnny are locked within a waltz.
All the children are happy, they're laughing and dancing all along.
While the jukebox sings it, all the babies; safe asleep inside a song.
" I raise my head, to breath in again.
His head sinks in, as your final breath is lost I exhale with yours,
Just like I dreamed when I was a little girl.
Rest your eyes once more, this is our departure in this world. "
I can see two jobs and your pension, just trying to make a means to an end.
I can see a paycheck and its figures, it brings me to my knees and I scream,
"John, why did you leave me?" That's when Junior, he walked in through the porch.
They say he looks a lot like you,and he likes that, I thought you might like that too
I can see Doctors and Laurie clutching flowers in a vase.
I can see my chart from the sorrows that are written on their face.
"This ain't a place for a man to see his end through." she smiles and nods her head.
"Take me to a place from whence we came, that lake that births and heals the dead."
" Our final breaths taken together again.
I sink my head, my heart afloat in your chest.
Rest my sore eyes, drift away like ripples in the tide.
This is my last goodbye, meet me in the next life. "
How soft the sunlight did feel as it warmed us,
made us disappear into the bottom of waters.
our fathers were fishing by the dock.
We shared a kiss to unite us, from whence we came is the place where we'd depart.
I can see doorsteps and footmats, different names for the same things.
I can see Delores & Johnny are locked within a waltz.
All the children are happy, they're laughing and dancing all along.
While the jukebox sings it, all the babies; safe asleep inside a song.
" I raise my head, to breath in again.
His head sinks in, as your final breath is lost I exhale with yours,
Just like I dreamed when I was a little girl.
Rest your eyes once more, this is our departure in this world. "
I can see two jobs and your pension, just trying to make a means to an end.
I can see a paycheck and its figures, it brings me to my knees and I scream,
"John, why did you leave me?" That's when Junior, he walked in through the porch.
They say he looks a lot like you,and he likes that, I thought you might like that too
I can see Doctors and Laurie clutching flowers in a vase.
I can see my chart from the sorrows that are written on their face.
"This ain't a place for a man to see his end through." she smiles and nods her head.
"Take me to a place from whence we came, that lake that births and heals the dead."
" Our final breaths taken together again.
I sink my head, my heart afloat in your chest.
Rest my sore eyes, drift away like ripples in the tide.
This is my last goodbye, meet me in the next life. "
Friday, February 18, 2011
Such a strange thing, Rain is.
The way it strikes the ground with such force, creates a hissing white noise which silences everything around it, just like a radio blaring loud enough so as to stop a man from thinking at all. Perhaps it was to suddenly stop:
Inaudible. Empty. Just like an old silent film, the pictures continue stirring, swaying, sweeping, all so swiftly, as if ignorant to the cessation of the senses, as if to say, “We have no time for sights, smells, or sounds. The rain is our steel cage, our minds the key to the lock.”
Just like that the rain is plunged to the ground almost like it never stopped, perhaps a skillet was placed beneath the clouds and God, or maybe the wind, gave it a little push, toppling the skillet over, flooding the cities, engulfing the valleys as the water bounces off the high mountainous walls looking for a purpose, a place to settle. That’s the thing with water, it never settles; constantly changing forms to match its environment. I suppose we are all like that.
The highway is packed like sardines in a can – just as unattractive too. There is an opening amongst the sea of cars, it is almost biblical in a sense, shocking in a way, almost as if you fell asleep during a road trip, only to wake up with that urgent feeling of panic that consumes the mind, that feeling of, “Where in the fuck am I?”
The rain is still spewing from the heavens. Where in the fuck am I? I look around groggy and apathetic, wanting to sink back into the madness of sleep; where I had been dreaming of the warmth of a summer sky, a setting sun on the horizon – all sorts of vibrant colors, like the canvas of a woman in love – I never find that place, you know, that dream. Instead, I am drawn to the sight of a young boy staring most curiously at the water droplets on his cars windowpane. He’s thoroughly astonished; the way the droplets seem to race across his line of sight in competition, how for every single droplet there’s one-thousand more, how every bit of water is moving, changing. Not one droplet is ever the same, yet not one droplet is ever different.
This resonates deep inside of me, an epiphany of sorts; I realize the collective existence related to the nature of water. It only appears to be a “single droplet” because that is what humanity has agreed to know it as. That droplet belongs to something bigger, perhaps it was taken from the ocean, and to the ocean it will return. Perhaps every droplet of water in the ocean was on its self-explorative pilgrimage at one point, but decided that the ocean is where it belongs. Yet, it would be considered mad to say, “Look at that ocean on my window” because we do not know things this way.
I stop for a moment to listen to everything; not just hear it, but listen to it. The rain stops. It is serene, beautiful even, the colors of the coastline are vibrantly glowing, I can finally hear the ocean clashing and cracking against the sand like gentle percussionists, so much sand; I can see every single grain, glistening against the sun; the sun, it finally peers through the omnipotent dark clouds illuminating every truth the highway coast has hidden. I say to myself, “To each is every.”
The car slips, crashes into the sea.
The way it strikes the ground with such force, creates a hissing white noise which silences everything around it, just like a radio blaring loud enough so as to stop a man from thinking at all. Perhaps it was to suddenly stop:
Inaudible. Empty. Just like an old silent film, the pictures continue stirring, swaying, sweeping, all so swiftly, as if ignorant to the cessation of the senses, as if to say, “We have no time for sights, smells, or sounds. The rain is our steel cage, our minds the key to the lock.”
Just like that the rain is plunged to the ground almost like it never stopped, perhaps a skillet was placed beneath the clouds and God, or maybe the wind, gave it a little push, toppling the skillet over, flooding the cities, engulfing the valleys as the water bounces off the high mountainous walls looking for a purpose, a place to settle. That’s the thing with water, it never settles; constantly changing forms to match its environment. I suppose we are all like that.
The highway is packed like sardines in a can – just as unattractive too. There is an opening amongst the sea of cars, it is almost biblical in a sense, shocking in a way, almost as if you fell asleep during a road trip, only to wake up with that urgent feeling of panic that consumes the mind, that feeling of, “Where in the fuck am I?”
The rain is still spewing from the heavens. Where in the fuck am I? I look around groggy and apathetic, wanting to sink back into the madness of sleep; where I had been dreaming of the warmth of a summer sky, a setting sun on the horizon – all sorts of vibrant colors, like the canvas of a woman in love – I never find that place, you know, that dream. Instead, I am drawn to the sight of a young boy staring most curiously at the water droplets on his cars windowpane. He’s thoroughly astonished; the way the droplets seem to race across his line of sight in competition, how for every single droplet there’s one-thousand more, how every bit of water is moving, changing. Not one droplet is ever the same, yet not one droplet is ever different.
This resonates deep inside of me, an epiphany of sorts; I realize the collective existence related to the nature of water. It only appears to be a “single droplet” because that is what humanity has agreed to know it as. That droplet belongs to something bigger, perhaps it was taken from the ocean, and to the ocean it will return. Perhaps every droplet of water in the ocean was on its self-explorative pilgrimage at one point, but decided that the ocean is where it belongs. Yet, it would be considered mad to say, “Look at that ocean on my window” because we do not know things this way.
I stop for a moment to listen to everything; not just hear it, but listen to it. The rain stops. It is serene, beautiful even, the colors of the coastline are vibrantly glowing, I can finally hear the ocean clashing and cracking against the sand like gentle percussionists, so much sand; I can see every single grain, glistening against the sun; the sun, it finally peers through the omnipotent dark clouds illuminating every truth the highway coast has hidden. I say to myself, “To each is every.”
The car slips, crashes into the sea.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Untitled
The only thing I hear is myself thinking
And the crackle of a cigarette
As I suck it down and exhale
All of my fears will be forgotten
Did I make the same mistake
Just in a different way
Contemplate the notion of self-expression
When is it invalid
Validate the thoughts that race in my head
And whoever’s in here with me
Is there anyone here with me?
And the crackle of a cigarette
As I suck it down and exhale
All of my fears will be forgotten
Did I make the same mistake
Just in a different way
Contemplate the notion of self-expression
When is it invalid
Validate the thoughts that race in my head
And whoever’s in here with me
Is there anyone here with me?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
What My Name Really Is
I am a veteran, a war torn tragic mind.
Useless words and pseudonyms, I've watched my best friend die.
I can hear the voice, I hear the shattered cries.
Like a sleepless baby begging for a lullaby.
I am a little boy, a careless wandering mind.
I came into this world unsure of what I'd find.
The chimney exhales smoke like my father and cigars.
I will be like him, but right now I am not so far.
Don't ask me what my name really is.
I am you.
We are all of this.
Don't ask me, ask yourself.
I am a loving mother, frightened by the day
My kids'll go into the world, look at me and say,
"The goddesss in the kitchen made me who I really am."
Asleep in your lap, the dog looked comfortable with death.
Is this truth?
How all things tied come back to you.
One day soon, I will be there with you.
The goddess in the kitchen is cooking for the veteran.
While the dog is roaming the garden with the boy.
The way it should have been.
Useless words and pseudonyms, I've watched my best friend die.
I can hear the voice, I hear the shattered cries.
Like a sleepless baby begging for a lullaby.
I am a little boy, a careless wandering mind.
I came into this world unsure of what I'd find.
The chimney exhales smoke like my father and cigars.
I will be like him, but right now I am not so far.
Don't ask me what my name really is.
I am you.
We are all of this.
Don't ask me, ask yourself.
I am a loving mother, frightened by the day
My kids'll go into the world, look at me and say,
"The goddesss in the kitchen made me who I really am."
Asleep in your lap, the dog looked comfortable with death.
Is this truth?
How all things tied come back to you.
One day soon, I will be there with you.
The goddess in the kitchen is cooking for the veteran.
While the dog is roaming the garden with the boy.
The way it should have been.
Weekend Parade
Played at Arlanpalooza
Kiss me at the end of our days.
Boarded for that final train.
It'll take us home where
The leaves are all changing.
The people smile at us and they wave.
Reminds me of that weekend parade.
How pretty you looked
At the bottom of dunk tanks.
Such fickle friends they're proving to be.
When we depart then they'll just get up and leave.
Forgetting memories.
Burning pictures they have of me.
I had a dream you were dressed in a gown
and the tassel in your eye blocked me out.
But I know that you'll stay
I don't know if you'll stay.
Kiss me at the end of our days.
I'm so happy that it ended this way.
I mean I'm with you.
I'm sorry I'm with you,
I'm so sorry I'm with you.
Kiss me at the end of our days.
Boarded for that final train.
It'll take us home where
The leaves are all changing.
The people smile at us and they wave.
Reminds me of that weekend parade.
How pretty you looked
At the bottom of dunk tanks.
Such fickle friends they're proving to be.
When we depart then they'll just get up and leave.
Forgetting memories.
Burning pictures they have of me.
I had a dream you were dressed in a gown
and the tassel in your eye blocked me out.
But I know that you'll stay
I don't know if you'll stay.
Kiss me at the end of our days.
I'm so happy that it ended this way.
I mean I'm with you.
I'm sorry I'm with you,
I'm so sorry I'm with you.
On Your Skin
I'm not the same as before.
I've been changing.
How lovers leave at the door.
I've been thinking about those words on your side
And how they move with your hips
Like I want them to.
How persistent we've been
like dogs chasing mailmen.
When will this waiting end?
Hypocrisy on your skin.
Cause I thought it read
Love and be loved.
I know I shouldn't say
but I was happier back then in a way
I forgot.
but won't forget everything that was said and unsaid.
So won't you stay with me tonight.
One day soon we'll be fine.
I'm not the same as before.
We are different.
I guess I like my girls a little inked up.
I've been changing.
How lovers leave at the door.
I've been thinking about those words on your side
And how they move with your hips
Like I want them to.
How persistent we've been
like dogs chasing mailmen.
When will this waiting end?
Hypocrisy on your skin.
Cause I thought it read
Love and be loved.
I know I shouldn't say
but I was happier back then in a way
I forgot.
but won't forget everything that was said and unsaid.
So won't you stay with me tonight.
One day soon we'll be fine.
I'm not the same as before.
We are different.
I guess I like my girls a little inked up.
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