I.
i was born full
II.
i become empty
III.
i die full
I.
awake
apartment to small home
breathing in the air
of southern sweet talk
of the gulf war
and airplane exhaust
off to the coast
swimming in freedom
and salt water
claiming with a stick in my hand
that i'll fight a war
while i cry
as our dog
gets put to sleep
a cross country
elementary literature filled
van ride
i only see smiles
of gas station attendants
from coast to coast
i remain
internally blindfolded
getting goosebumps
at the sight of a baby deer
or a squirrel in the front yard
not understanding
parents fear
of men with guns
on the school bus
discovering playground love
by the big metal slide
and losing it
next to the wooden table
learning clothes should match
or else pretty girls will laugh
on the way to my locker
getting detention
for making the same pretty girls
laugh
for the right reasons
learning
what a kiss is
next to the yellow blur of
departing school busses
and learning
why people cry
when they can't hold hands anymore
faking a smile
for the christmas presents that are almost there
but not quite
forgetting about
reading books
the bible
creating for other reasons
than canned laughter
temporarily
and stupidly
becoming consumed in
collared shirts
and friday nights
sunny nights
that aren't too memorable
leading to years of learning
and becoming.
feeling death for the first time
in hidden tears
in the den
full of picture frames and guitars
sleeping on a pull out couch
hearing ryan adams for the first time
and understanding
c o n n e c t i o n
learning to accept
rejection
and learning to accept
being accepted
starting out on a snow covered trampoline
moving to a warm basement
moving to a playground
moving to solitude
under a barn
learning confidence
before losing innocence
happily and hesitantly
learning what true love really feels like
on a late night phone call.
starting to remember things
like books
and the bible
and wondering
why they took down the metal slide
and why did i think war was ok
while i held that stick
and holding hands
and getting kisses
and fighting
and failing tests
and learning what jealousy is
and spite is
and
really learning
what a regret is
but more importantly
realizing what an empty, useless feeling
regret
really is.
laughing
crying
holding
letting go
praying
screaming
learning
teaching
really laughing
fake laughing
disappointing
and uselessly
regretting.
having blind fun in rainbow colors
for a little bit more
until
for the first and only time ever
the internal blindfold comes off
and i really see
really
truly
see
for the first time ever
and all i see
is
pain.
II.
all i see is pain
all i hear is pain
all i read is pain
all i feel is pain
and it's real
feeling heartbreak
and reflecting
with blues playing
through laptop speakers
not understanding heartbreak
and reflecting
with folk and country playing
through quality headphones
ignoring heartbreak
and not reflecting
with hip-hop playing
in my car
on my way
to nowhere
avoiding judgement
and crying out to God
on a rainy night
where the streetlights
reflect in the road
and seem endless
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
"CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?"
involuntarily cut off
from receiving love
as a result
all alone
in an un-mowed backyard
kicking a soccer ball
searching for answers
in the slightly deflated children's toy
and in an angry rapper from new york
and in an insightful band from iceland
reflecting on all the hands i've held
which one fit the most
what poolside dialogue made me the most content
what birthday present made me the happiest
what argument made me the angriest
all of these are realized over time
with tears streaming down my face
to an appropriate soundtrack
of "I Want You" by Bob Dylan
where did happiness go?
back on the plane
driving coast to coast
in your hand
or it's still here
but wounded
on a river
or in chili's
or behind my tears
and in my memories
but it's hard to see
when i still see so much pain
even beyond me
when i stand at the door
folding clothes
faking a smile
for the rich woman
with chunky, uneven lipstick
whose eyes tell an even larger story
of sorrow and pain
i contemplate this woman
and other women
and the NBA
and expired inspections
and problems with healthcare
with smoke filled lungs
blowing warm pain out of me
to pollute the air a little more
as i sit
i wonder if happiness dies
and new happiness is born
this becomes true
as i think of my new happiness
found in
kerouac writings
under-appreciated films
giving up on a fast food fast
reggae on sunday mornings
God's love
dancing at girl talk
a new playground love
my old happiness is dead
and i still mourn it
and cry out to it and weep
thinking my old happiness
is
Lazarus
i lay in a pile of dirty clothes
on my floor
and think beyond regret
and think why am i wrong
and to a certain degree
i understand heartbreak
and reflect
while in the silence.
III.
the future can't be predicted
in emotionally biased words
but i know
that i will remember
all the things i forget
right before the end
i'll reflect on
elephants
presidents
garden gnomes
inside jokes
vinyls
a cloudy sky during a meteor shower
el nino
avril lavigne
typewriters
arguments
true love
pretty girls
regrets
email
boring books
heartbreak,
because the heartbreak of a true love
will stay
forever
as will the ability
to truly love again
but come the night
whether i'm loved or hated
happy or sad
single or taken
rich or poor
famous or not
i will die
and i will die after a roller coaster lifetime
with cloudy nights and sunny days throughout the calender
with empty greetings and genuine goodbyes
with kisses and hugs
i will die full
full of it all
i will die
full of life.
even if it kills me
to get there.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Inauguration.
the generation has arrived at the waterhole
and there is a drought
nothing new,
we'll just find another cactus
we can't rebuild the infrastructure
if the people are still dead
we are the lustsick youth of america
we are the children who rely on tylenol and beer to keep us awake for our sleepless empty nights
lying on rooftops making wishes on crashing airplanes instead of shooting stars
the sun exists in dreams and nightmares
and today
sleep through the rain and wait for the rainbow
daylight savings are only here for so long
screaming our mental lungs out to cement Jesus'
we beg to feel the wounds
to know something
is real
our souls are self-immolating
reaching out
to anything
we drive on an empty road
absorbing the bumps
like the grooves on a vinyl
we sit and wait
for jazz to return
the purity of the screaming sporadic trumpet
the innocence of the bass
walking up your spine
the joy of snare hitting and splashing
but all we hear
are words from a factory
being programmed on stage
but listen closely
and look behind the curtain
and you can stop playing follow the leader
and join in on duck duck goose
the wind is blowing the ships off course
but now they know
the world isn't flat
the fire burns the books they never read
but that just proves,
they never read at all
so thank you wind and fire
for all that you've destroyed
the windows are stained
and the pews have been cleaned
remove the rules,
and just confess it later.
convert the sinners from a script
and add up your points
and you've got a one way ticket to heaven
sitting with Jesus in a rocking chair
drinking pink lemonade
maybe there,
we can spend some more time "thinking"
about helping in a daily genocide
while we write a 600,000,000 dollar check
for a fight we got in.
the hope
and change
has always been here
but no one looked under the couch
until someone said "Yes We Can!"
No matter how many buildings are built
and houses are torn down
and roads are painted,
the trumpet will always squeal,
the baby will always cry,
the tomb will never be closed,
the wind will never settle,
and
we
will always find water somewhere.
just look beyond the streetlights
and post offices
beyond the cathedrals
and schools
even look beyond the waterfall
just close yours eyes
and open your mind
beyond a screened in room
don't speak to God
through
a man with a tin can
call up to the clouded sky
cry over lazarus
Hable fuera del idioma.
we are alive,
we are creating
we can survive without rite aid
and chrysler
we just have to look under the couch again
and wake up
before the alarm.
and there is a drought
nothing new,
we'll just find another cactus
we can't rebuild the infrastructure
if the people are still dead
we are the lustsick youth of america
we are the children who rely on tylenol and beer to keep us awake for our sleepless empty nights
lying on rooftops making wishes on crashing airplanes instead of shooting stars
the sun exists in dreams and nightmares
and today
sleep through the rain and wait for the rainbow
daylight savings are only here for so long
screaming our mental lungs out to cement Jesus'
we beg to feel the wounds
to know something
is real
our souls are self-immolating
reaching out
to anything
we drive on an empty road
absorbing the bumps
like the grooves on a vinyl
we sit and wait
for jazz to return
the purity of the screaming sporadic trumpet
the innocence of the bass
walking up your spine
the joy of snare hitting and splashing
but all we hear
are words from a factory
being programmed on stage
but listen closely
and look behind the curtain
and you can stop playing follow the leader
and join in on duck duck goose
the wind is blowing the ships off course
but now they know
the world isn't flat
the fire burns the books they never read
but that just proves,
they never read at all
so thank you wind and fire
for all that you've destroyed
the windows are stained
and the pews have been cleaned
remove the rules,
and just confess it later.
convert the sinners from a script
and add up your points
and you've got a one way ticket to heaven
sitting with Jesus in a rocking chair
drinking pink lemonade
maybe there,
we can spend some more time "thinking"
about helping in a daily genocide
while we write a 600,000,000 dollar check
for a fight we got in.
the hope
and change
has always been here
but no one looked under the couch
until someone said "Yes We Can!"
No matter how many buildings are built
and houses are torn down
and roads are painted,
the trumpet will always squeal,
the baby will always cry,
the tomb will never be closed,
the wind will never settle,
and
we
will always find water somewhere.
just look beyond the streetlights
and post offices
beyond the cathedrals
and schools
even look beyond the waterfall
just close yours eyes
and open your mind
beyond a screened in room
don't speak to God
through
a man with a tin can
call up to the clouded sky
cry over lazarus
Hable fuera del idioma.
we are alive,
we are creating
we can survive without rite aid
and chrysler
we just have to look under the couch again
and wake up
before the alarm.
A Half Asleep Chorus
knock knock
knock
knock
I can't ring the doorbell
that'll wake the babies
so I leave the porch
misunderstood
and
misunderstanding
but
don't fear
I took the key
from under the doormat
for my belief
is that
we'll meet again
at a doorway
when?
don't trust the clock
the hands have always been too tired
to get past
the lag
of the human mind
so begins the countdown
of
unforeseeable future
that we all see
no matter what
I'll still fall
and the mushroom cloud will rise
I just hope
you're there to sweep the dust
when it's there
please forgive the mess
I never intended for the necessary to occur.
no matter
the planes the crash
the guns that shoot
the dust that hits the ground
remember
I still have the key
from under the doormat
and I always will
so clean the accidental necessary dust
and follow
the _______ brick road
to wherever it may lead
and
leave your pocketbook
full of receipts
and
bring your pocketbook
full of recipes
have a safe trip on your blank check
and see you at the doorway,
with no notebooks or cameras
only open eyes
and
dry hands
waiting for you
to wipe a few tears
I missed.
knock
knock
I can't ring the doorbell
that'll wake the babies
so I leave the porch
misunderstood
and
misunderstanding
but
don't fear
I took the key
from under the doormat
for my belief
is that
we'll meet again
at a doorway
when?
don't trust the clock
the hands have always been too tired
to get past
the lag
of the human mind
so begins the countdown
of
unforeseeable future
that we all see
no matter what
I'll still fall
and the mushroom cloud will rise
I just hope
you're there to sweep the dust
when it's there
please forgive the mess
I never intended for the necessary to occur.
no matter
the planes the crash
the guns that shoot
the dust that hits the ground
remember
I still have the key
from under the doormat
and I always will
so clean the accidental necessary dust
and follow
the _______ brick road
to wherever it may lead
and
leave your pocketbook
full of receipts
and
bring your pocketbook
full of recipes
have a safe trip on your blank check
and see you at the doorway,
with no notebooks or cameras
only open eyes
and
dry hands
waiting for you
to wipe a few tears
I missed.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
A Chorus Dedicated To New York City
Lights flash on and off
in the city,
we stand blinking (in amazement)
at
the height of the building
Oh, how alive we are!
chirp the pigeons in a harmonious tone
Oh, how alive we are!
honks the speeding yellow taxi
Oh, how alive we are!
coughs the uptight business man in the elevator
debris fills the skyline
so I close my eyes
and go underground
and still how alive we are
under the movement
and inside the blurry subway
breathing millions of others breaths
dancing to the rhythm
of the beating parades
the city wakes
the city sings
but it is TOO alive to sleep
from a crosswalk
to the Empire State Building
to the cry of a newborn
to the silence of the fallen
the city is alive
through nnnneeeeeeooooonnnnn signs
and cloudy skies.
in the city,
we stand blinking (in amazement)
at
the height of the building
Oh, how alive we are!
chirp the pigeons in a harmonious tone
Oh, how alive we are!
honks the speeding yellow taxi
Oh, how alive we are!
coughs the uptight business man in the elevator
debris fills the skyline
so I close my eyes
and go underground
and still how alive we are
under the movement
and inside the blurry subway
breathing millions of others breaths
dancing to the rhythm
of the beating parades
the city wakes
the city sings
but it is TOO alive to sleep
from a crosswalk
to the Empire State Building
to the cry of a newborn
to the silence of the fallen
the city is alive
through nnnneeeeeeooooonnnnn signs
and cloudy skies.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
#4
here we sit
in plastic chairs
on a plastic lawn
watching the sun
play tag with the moon
red lights have been
green
for way too long
but I stay still
parade in the city
behind the parade
because the lightswitch
was still off.
the elephants and ringleaders
are still on tv
and still
in cages.
they tell me
fly
fly
fly to the moon
but i take
a picture of a bird instead
and say
I'll fly away
later.
and when my eyes are closed
I can still see you
always
and
forever.
millions of smiles
trillions of tears
some of them real
the world will stop spinning
they will stop clapping
and the lights will go off
and
I
will
still
be
here,
in
a
Rainbow Country
in plastic chairs
on a plastic lawn
watching the sun
play tag with the moon
red lights have been
green
for way too long
but I stay still
parade in the city
behind the parade
because the lightswitch
was still off.
the elephants and ringleaders
are still on tv
and still
in cages.
they tell me
fly
fly
fly to the moon
but i take
a picture of a bird instead
and say
I'll fly away
later.
and when my eyes are closed
I can still see you
always
and
forever.
millions of smiles
trillions of tears
some of them real
the world will stop spinning
they will stop clapping
and the lights will go off
and
I
will
still
be
here,
in
a
Rainbow Country
This I believe.
I believe in language.
Creo en el idioma.
Je crois en la langue.
Speaking is the language of the mouth, but there's so much more.
Music is the language of the soul,
Books are the language of the eye,
Movement is the language of the body,
Wind is the language of the earth,
Addiction is the language of the scared,
and
Love is the language of it all.
So where does communication fit in?
everywhere.
communication triggers reaction
and reaction
is the language of the mind
so speak,
and react,
so you can feel,
and comprehend
what language is.
I believe language is much more than dialects, words and inflections.
Language is the only way to create a gateway into your own mind for others to see,
and language is the only way to receive an invitation into the minds OF others.
I believe language is above words,
I believe language is what's behind the words.
I believe language is an alcoholic soaking it all in.
I believe language is a baby kicking inside the womb.
I believe language is remaining loyal
and
I believe language is betrayal.
Silence is the language of a mute
and
Lying is the language of a politician.
the emptiness in all of our lives
is caused by an absence of communication
which means an absence of reaction
which means an absence of language
which means an absence of everything
which means a presence of nothing.
Language is the sounds of hammers to the railroad
and the sounds of a pen to a check.
I believe language is
Saying "I hate you" but meaning "I love you"
I believe
Peace is the language of the children
and
War is the language of the adults.
Which means,
children speak love, and adults speak hate.
Which means,
Mommy and Daddy, who bring out the games on friday night game night, and tuck you in and vacuum the rug and say please and thank you and who smile and who have the ability to create unity with a pen and paper and an open mind, are the mass murderers.
and Little boy and little girl, who scream and cry, and steal and hit, and squish bugs and make messes and break expensive necklaces, are pacifists.
Yesterday is the language of grandpa
and
Tomorrow is the language of grandson.
So who speaks today?
Do none of us?
Or do all of us?
Virginia Woolf once said
"Language is wine upon the lips"
I believe that
and
I believe we have too much sour language
and not enough ripe.
We all have to speak
we all have to think
we all have to see
feel
smell
taste
breath
hear.
I believe language is the equilibrium of them all.
I believe we all have our language
and I believe
we all NEED our own language
for
people can sing and laugh and drink and speak for us
but no one can
feel for us
no on can react for us
Our mind is vast
so our language should grow with it
and move in it
and become it
and consume it
like an ant building, and living in and dying in it's anthill.
We create our language
We should be willing to call it our
own
whether we call it
taal
langage
Sprache
linguaggio
língua
sadness
hapiness
paint
jazz
sex
him
her
love
hate
questions
answers
God-breathed
pretentious
dumb
or just
simple
We must own it and call it something
I believe we must have a language
and communicate with it
now
not later
I believe
waiting
turns your language
into regret
I believe
our languages will disassociate themselves from the tower of babel
and harmonize
in a most beautiful tone
I believe you should speak and react
but not forget
to feel and hear
because the language of the wind
won't remain silent forever
Creo en el idioma.
Je crois en la langue.
Speaking is the language of the mouth, but there's so much more.
Music is the language of the soul,
Books are the language of the eye,
Movement is the language of the body,
Wind is the language of the earth,
Addiction is the language of the scared,
and
Love is the language of it all.
So where does communication fit in?
everywhere.
communication triggers reaction
and reaction
is the language of the mind
so speak,
and react,
so you can feel,
and comprehend
what language is.
I believe language is much more than dialects, words and inflections.
Language is the only way to create a gateway into your own mind for others to see,
and language is the only way to receive an invitation into the minds OF others.
I believe language is above words,
I believe language is what's behind the words.
I believe language is an alcoholic soaking it all in.
I believe language is a baby kicking inside the womb.
I believe language is remaining loyal
and
I believe language is betrayal.
Silence is the language of a mute
and
Lying is the language of a politician.
the emptiness in all of our lives
is caused by an absence of communication
which means an absence of reaction
which means an absence of language
which means an absence of everything
which means a presence of nothing.
Language is the sounds of hammers to the railroad
and the sounds of a pen to a check.
I believe language is
Saying "I hate you" but meaning "I love you"
I believe
Peace is the language of the children
and
War is the language of the adults.
Which means,
children speak love, and adults speak hate.
Which means,
Mommy and Daddy, who bring out the games on friday night game night, and tuck you in and vacuum the rug and say please and thank you and who smile and who have the ability to create unity with a pen and paper and an open mind, are the mass murderers.
and Little boy and little girl, who scream and cry, and steal and hit, and squish bugs and make messes and break expensive necklaces, are pacifists.
Yesterday is the language of grandpa
and
Tomorrow is the language of grandson.
So who speaks today?
Do none of us?
Or do all of us?
Virginia Woolf once said
"Language is wine upon the lips"
I believe that
and
I believe we have too much sour language
and not enough ripe.
We all have to speak
we all have to think
we all have to see
feel
smell
taste
breath
hear.
I believe language is the equilibrium of them all.
I believe we all have our language
and I believe
we all NEED our own language
for
people can sing and laugh and drink and speak for us
but no one can
feel for us
no on can react for us
Our mind is vast
so our language should grow with it
and move in it
and become it
and consume it
like an ant building, and living in and dying in it's anthill.
We create our language
We should be willing to call it our
own
whether we call it
taal
langage
Sprache
linguaggio
língua
sadness
hapiness
paint
jazz
sex
him
her
love
hate
questions
answers
God-breathed
pretentious
dumb
or just
simple
We must own it and call it something
I believe we must have a language
and communicate with it
now
not later
I believe
waiting
turns your language
into regret
I believe
our languages will disassociate themselves from the tower of babel
and harmonize
in a most beautiful tone
I believe you should speak and react
but not forget
to feel and hear
because the language of the wind
won't remain silent forever
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Advertisement
out of tune fingers
speak the words
my mind can't project
so here i spin
inconsistently
waiting for
the scene to cut
but it goes on
(cue music)
and on
but now i'm stopped
and your spinning begins
my hologram hands
won't cease the movement
but
the billboard will
so i will sit
and try to spin again
but be stuck
in wet cement
as you wave goodbye
with your hair blowing in the wind
and your pupils dilating in the light
goodbye my love
i'll wait here
forever
even
if
i
don't want to
so find your way home
once the record gets a scratch
or the dog starts to sleep
and if you get a chance
bring me a tissue
for my bloody nose
and a souvenir
if you can
BON VOYAGE!
speak the words
my mind can't project
so here i spin
inconsistently
waiting for
the scene to cut
but it goes on
(cue music)
and on
but now i'm stopped
and your spinning begins
my hologram hands
won't cease the movement
but
the billboard will
so i will sit
and try to spin again
but be stuck
in wet cement
as you wave goodbye
with your hair blowing in the wind
and your pupils dilating in the light
goodbye my love
i'll wait here
forever
even
if
i
don't want to
so find your way home
once the record gets a scratch
or the dog starts to sleep
and if you get a chance
bring me a tissue
for my bloody nose
and a souvenir
if you can
BON VOYAGE!
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