Raise steins…

•December 30, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I couldn’t help it.  It’s for Lemmy.  Well, inspired by his passing as well as the true icons we’ve already lost. I was never really a Motorhead fan until not very long ago, but the impact, the importance of this one man can never be understated.  He was a god among gods…and a true friend to every rock n roll fan the world over.  Bring the cheese…

Rest in peace…and rock like a motherfucker.

Gazing out, helpless, as the old gods fall,
With no new princes to replace that unifying call,
Towering, these men shining lights upon the dark,
Now little men cower around them wishing they could give back the spark,

All our heroes begin,
And all the heroes end,
I’m looking up, looking down,
To the ground that cradles friends,

I never knew these saviors,
I only knew their deeds,
From the strip where sunshine ends,
To the crashing waves of Leeds,

I learned more lessons from their words,
More than any teacher ever taught,
A beacon blinking hopefully,
Giving hope to the distraught,

Sheltered kids didn’t shake your hand,
They didn’t feel your force,
Though we, the children of the fallen gods,
Will honor you, of course,

Raise your steins to fallen gods,
Shed tears in beers for those who’ve gone,
For you still tower over all our hearts,
In each and every song.

All our heroes begin,
And all the heroes end,
I’m looking up, looking down,
To the ground that cradles friends

If it hits ya, feel free to share.

•December 6, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Swirling love carried on wings by doves show me a continent wasn’t quite far enough for you to forget a friend,
That your heart had trimmed off all the miles and your smiles had hitched a ride home,
They found me sitting alone and afraid in a dark little home that I have made for myself with towers that lean under the weight of footsteps down a lonely road,
And I’ve stomped that avenue for years,
Never once backtracked in this broken back state of being,
I’ve apologized for myself more that I’ve laughed,
Felt ashamed more than I’ve let myself feel loved,
Been so alone and on my own by my own choosing because of the thoughts that don’t stop and the sanity I’m losing,
And all these words I etch in screens and the ones that I speak silently behind the scenes,
Will always fall short of the fear and shame that I’ve won as a contestant in a maddening game,
And I’ll be as silent in coming days as I have in so many past,
Because all my words much like my time are best left as memories of the past.

•December 6, 2015 • Leave a Comment

In the barren fields of my disbelief you sowed you green thumbed goddess seeds,
Never with the intention of the harvest’s reaping but to end the erosion of incessant weeping,
Though droughts run long and rings circle slow just know that under my dead earth shell there are pieces of you that grow,
A perrenial friend that comes around again and again to tell me the sun is still there for me,
Waiting with you in the open sky where the world is as light as the air you ride,
You’ve taken rattles to my weariness and windchimes to my soul and I know no matter where I go your love will find a way to flow and spur my blooming within this hole,
One day tendrils will wish to taste light and I will reach with hands that you have held,
Stronger than before,
It was you that tore tears away from my eyes and made a mouth’s corners slowly rise when hope was another four letter word,
Sometimes we see the ways we grow, Sometimes it’s hidden too deep within but even when I knew that all was dead here,
You took spade to ground and did the digging for me,
Turning layers and preparing the land for the emergence of this broken man,
Every shovel full of kindness and every barrow ripe with warmth,
Never have I seen a beacon so bright with more patience in her shining than I have the will to fight,
I’ve never deserved a caretaker such as this,
And I’ve never had a sister that is a super bad ass, hippie shaman, green thumbed, teacup goddess.

•December 6, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Go for a drive to kill a while and see all the pretty smiles,
With people all over to love them to teeth,
I bare mine often but rarely for smiling,
Pretty teeth everywhere,
All with a mouth to call home,
My front door is locked and I need a dentist,
Because my teeth are always grinding.

•November 23, 2015 • Leave a Comment

When the winds stop blowing change your way they take the air you breathe,
They make you seethe and grow so bitter,
Haze these days into something softer,
Blunt the edges of a sharpened mind and leave that sweat behind you,
Even if those daggers trail close,
One more time, one more mistake,
One life for living that I just can’t take,
If the world stops spinning it’ll never move again,
If I hadn’t gotten so dizzy I might have made a friend,
I choose the same wrong moves so much if I’m doing well I’m out of the groove,
With expectations kept at bay I don’t need to worry about what I say,
But the truth so seldom falls from my lips that reality is a thing I forgot how to grip,
And this is what is left,
It isn’t right,
And I can’t find my center,
The middle ground elusive,
An all inclusive apology machine,
That doesn’t know what sorry means.

Maybe not

•October 6, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I used to have a place to sit out back behind the shed
Where I would watch the leaves begin their painting from green to red to dead,
A place where thoughts of contentment and resentment filled a hanging head,
A place that I was OK to say, that this is a heavy head’s humble home,
A place that never really let me feel alone,
There are chairs there now and other things from other people,
Sacrilege done to my bare bones seat where I could talk to myself in the sunrise’s heat,
Where I could think that things aren’t all that bad and I’d think of good times that I’ve had,
Now there’s nothing there for me,
And little comfort in my little room,
And I pray every day that living this way will mercifully murder me soon,
Maybe it’ll change and get turned around in some strange way,
Maybe I’ll find safe again,
Maybe I’ll be comfort again,
That’ll be the day…

It is

•September 25, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I like to sit a few feet above Main Street,
Guitar in my hand and the breeze by my side,
making sickening racket for the poor passers by,
Sometimes they look to find the hurt child that surely must be squealing,
Or the death howling kitten that had to be stricken with tire tread syndromes to make that kind of noise,
It’s the cacophony of running down the aisle and simultaneously smacking all the kids toys,
I’d apologize except that if I did then they’d know my position,
I’m a silent sound assassin with a passion for noodling while the cars are passin’,

Sometimes I think it’s the last pretty thing that I can offer,
Sometimes it’s as awful as my attitude,
Sometimes it comes on its own,
Sometimes I try to find it and it leaves me so alone,
Sometimes it’s angels that confess in your ear and sometimes it’s the devil himself,
Sometimes it sounds like crying,
Sometimes it’s all I have left when I wish that I was dying,
But it’s always there, it’s always a friend,
Never sometimes,
Just always to the end.

 
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