Saturday, November 28, 2015

Louder Than Silence

I have been shredded by old indiscretions
Ribbons, confetti, you know
I could say “it’s me”, and you would have to pause and think
My vibrations fall on deaf ears
    If they fall at all
I’ve been known to stumble (enough for the both of us)
    I’ve got the skinned knees to prove it
You would think I’d pray a little, as long as I’m down here
You would think I'd do a lot of things
You might suspect that I’d at least whisper
    Even if shouting isn’t an option
It’s a shame, really…
I used to be so good at screaming
In my element, up on those rooftops
And now?
I’m in the basement
Here with an out-of-tune guitar
Trying to pluck my way through old, forgotten songs
Tunes that nobody remembers
Melodies, in small note-shaped caskets.


Thursday, November 26, 2015

Look On The Fight Side

I’ll be more uplifting
Let myself be lifted up
Finally be insistent
That I’ve halfway filled this cup
I’ll be more persistent
Never pause in my pursuit
Murder my resistance
And embrace my tangled roots
I’ll be less reliant
On the sun to make me smile
I’ll become a science
Like a shadow on the dial
I’ll be much improved
Muscle memory and such
Brand new man, enthused
Just a me without a crutch


Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Minimum Page

I should quit my job
And write for 8 hours a day
Maybe add 10 extra minutes
Take a 10 minute break
But that sounds like a luxury
And comfort’s not my thing
I’m better served being obsessed
A worker bee who feels the sting
I’m just a victim of these pages
Man, I used to really love it
Now I need it to survive
Wish I could take this need and shove it
And the poems that I would post
They’re just a small slice of the pie
They’re the ones I hate the most
The ones that wanna make me cry
But every time I get a second
I just craft another chain
Nothing hurts unless
You take the time to feel the pain


Monday, November 23, 2015

and also with you

Peace is tough to find
Like tucked-in sweaters
The vapid variety is plentiful
But as empty as a California coat
I know winters
The type that break a man's bones
Lockjaw winters that refuse to let go
But I get it…
  Letting go is hard
So, let it snow and shovel not
Accumulate this meltable comfort
Collect decay for all your days
I'm a stationery explorer
A backseat driver
I’m one vote away
From a full Wednesday of bitching
Though judge me not
I’ve loved hard
Tears as tough as diamonds
I was born a simple science
A breakable code
Just a man who thirsts for one sip of peace


Saturday, November 21, 2015

All Polish, No Trophy

I have been wrecked, I’ve been broken
I have been silenced when I should have spoken
I have been taken to task
Buried the questions that I should’ve asked
Swallowed by whales in the sea
Each time emerging as less of a me
Painted with scarlet red letters
Destiny fucked me, and I simply let her
Better I stay in this hole
Punishment levied for missing my goals
I’m unimpressed with myself
Trophyless martyr with nothing but shelf


Thursday, November 19, 2015

Dance with the Devil

I suspect the devil does the tango
Like a sweaty-toothed madman
Dead are the poets who knew him
No one with credentials lives to tell
I suspect the devil does the tango
Rooftops all set ablaze
Leather-bound books tell tales
Stories we no longer believe
I suspect the devil does the tango
Whispering a language long since buried
Hot breath on the most uncomfortable of necks
Tragic chords bleeding from otherwise dead guitars.


Wednesday, November 18, 2015


What's the chance that taken chances give more, stealing less?
Spending time as if I’ve saved it, hidden here, compressed
I was born an avalanche, a tumbling path to now
Taken by untaken stance, when they still take their bow
Plagiarize myself at times, if I’ve a point too dull
Never take what isn’t mine, a mind that I keep full
Given freely, taken by the hearts that do the same
Hearts are given, never taken, prizes you can’t claim


Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Do This, In Remembrance

I know remembrance means less than it used to
A solemn man sits where his sentiment passed
I’m well aware that I know very little
The first to admit that the echoes don't last

Knuckles so white, quite a shell that they've fashioned
The clammy experience lives underground
Praying hands hold what the heart has entrusted
Remembrance folds, never quite making a sound

Oak hold as breezes would threaten to pry me
A chalice that leaks on the table I’ve set
I was a soldier, at least in my battles
Remembrance is everything, lest you forget


Friday, November 13, 2015

Is Astoria Worth Saving?

I’ve got half a mind to rest
The other half agrees
Halfway through an endless test
Just fill in circled Cs
Ill-prepared, I never study
Why would I start now
Bullshitting, my dearest buddy
Speak, then take my bow
What's the point I’m trying to reach
I’m not sure I recall
Ripened words, a softened peach
Dear branch, expect my fall
Filtered phrases I’m collecting
Substance left behind
Scattered clues I keep inspecting
Lost, just like my mind


Thursday, November 12, 2015

When Once I Thought I'd Not Be Hushed

I’ve erased words that I birthed, made them ashes
Treasures for one man from other men's trashes
I’ve framed a photo or two, never hang them
Written these songs, yet I've just never sang them
And I don’t intend to, some tunes are just whispers
Shave some emotions so they're never whiskers
Keep my ambitions tucked in, buttons fastened
I’ll dry clean desires, may dreams stay unfashioned
Creation, a task left to those who would risk it
I’m tape cassette people, I’m too scared to disc it
So wind me back in with your number two pencil
I’ll fit any mold like I’m drawn from a stencil
Just please don’t expect that I’ll sketch myself freely
It’s been a long time since I’ve scribbled the free me


Friday, November 6, 2015

Past the Orange Moose

One pair of shoes on a telephone wire
Two hearts tied together, a site to admire
Floods rage beneath the two soles as they sway
And I’m walking on coals, such a stubborn display
I could choose elevation, just unclip my wings
But I bathe in frustration, the water, it stings
And these scenes barrel past me, I never glance up
I pour over my burdens and live in this cup
And each sip that I finish, a taste that I miss
Not a soul understands me, and I’m on that list



All of my lines?
About puckered up poisons
Claws on my back
Echoing noises
All of these words
Leave me worse for the wear
Black and white musings
With grays in my hair
All of my wonders
My fanny pack dreams
Stars that have passed
But with visible beams
All of my questions
A curious baby
An eye full of might be…
Kaleidoscope maybes


Mile Markers

Driving north
Southern thoughts
Kept forever
I forgot
Pins in maps
So empathic
Sharing gaps
Artists render
Miss the mark
Cruise control
Brain in park
Passing faces
Ocean eyes
Surface glances
Hidden cries
So demanding
Rearview mirror
Far away
Getting nearer.


Thursday, November 5, 2015

Decision Points

More concerned with trending than with ending all the evil
Like we've all become accustomed to the custom of upheaval
And as regal as we think we are, the primal part is peeking
When the carnage it is in front of us, and none of us are speaking
So, we’re chasing every ambulance to feed the curiosity
A temporary break from prisons filled with mediocrity
And all of us are prisoners, it's relative, like cousins
I once thought me an exception, devastated that I wasn’t
But because it’s so inherent, I made efforts to excuse it
Like my brain is something feeble and I just had to confuse it
I could choose to buy the bullshit I was selling, buy one get one
I should wear the shoe that fits but I can't seem to ever fit one
That's ‘cause fitting in is nothing, there are somethings we should battle for
The grass is always greener, so these fences all get straddled more


Monday, November 2, 2015

Looking Back Means Feeling Back

I don’t reminisce enough
I just sit inside my silence
All the moments that created me
The love and all the violence
I don’t write with specificity
Illusions and allusions
Box it all and store away
And wait for the intrusions
I recall the fucking sting
With the rod, unsparing, child
Objections and complaints I made
Not one of them filed
Empty buckets, deep inside
Every drop I spilled
Empty buckets, tears uncried
I just want them filled
I make powerful decisions
Building homes without the tools
I’ve no sympathy for martyrs
But I empathize with fools
I’ve some poison in my past
But please, name a man who doesn’t
I recall a little boy in pain
Who wishes that he wasn’t
I’ve installed some old refrains
Just some hooks that I keep singing
Scary moments from my youth
That I’m heaven bent on clinging
And that ringing in my fears
Is a welcome mat, I think
Comfy place to stand and wait
A quiet place to sink


Ready, Set, Grow

My heart sings of destiny, of shadows bathed in light Paths that form before my feet, and waiting out the night Journeys made for chosen...