•April 25, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Shadows are gaining strength, contrast defines the edges,
Sun comes ’round like it always does, heating up dewdrops on yawning blades of grass,
When the sweet smells of a perfect spring morning hit me, a tear disappears into the dew,
Knowing that before the sun even spreads her wings,
I’ve decided she’s going to fly alone,
She knows the way, just beginning to take her time,
To slow down and see the trees, her friends with open arms, budded up and waving hello,
Singing songs in the breeze you gotta hear to believe,
Take note of the date,
Tear out the page of the calendar,
Quietly place it in a scrapbook called Regrets,
Put it back on the shelf knowing that tomorrow is just another page.

•April 25, 2015 • Leave a Comment

You’re so much prettier in person than in pictures,
Something kind of warm, and a whole lot of glowing,
I’m not too surprised that cold slick glass lacks the skills needed to pick up on that,
Have you ever seen a sunrise walk into a room?
I suppose not, that’s a shame, try it sometime, you can make it a game,
How many times does the sun have to rise for me to fall and get another skinned knee?
I saw that star fade away one day, watched it all through cold slick glass,
I’m really glad that glass is good for that,
I wouldn’t want to see you turn your lights off,
Not in person, not even for a second.

•April 25, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Three o’clock and I’m tick tocking watching the clock click by,
Sleep is a dream and my new old friend is looking to chat while time flies once again,
OK then, speak to me, if you don’t then I know that the silent speeches won’t end,
He’s telling me about the bills I owe, but only the ones that won’t get paid,
He rarely speaks of easy dealings or decisions easily made,
You’ll forget those until it’s too late,
He’s telling me of all the reasons, the who’s, the what’s, the why’s, the why’s, the why’s,
Doesn’t mention ways to change,
Or any of the good things that I think seem strange, Like how I finally found tears because of a movie scene,
Or how the waters well up from poetry,
Or the sky, or my guitar lying next to me,
Her shape sure makes me think of things I’d rather see in her place,
She likes to cry, sometimes, for me,
I caress the curves, pull her closer, listen to to her heart sing,
Put my hands on all her right places, sounding harmonies with her heartstrings,
Despite the battle hymns and war drums that make me march relentlessly,
When I place hands on those who sing, I try to do so gently,
But I just pushed her to the edge of the bed for tonight,
There isn’t any gentleness inside me now,
Just the drums, the hymns, and the fight.

•April 24, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Trees are in bloom down at the square,
I’d really love to write what they look like,
I really don’t know, I’m not there,
No reason for me to be,
No someone to go see,
No nowhere to go be,
In the shadow of the steeple is where you’ll find me all the way up to the top, floor three,
With a window to a shingle sky and breathtaking views of flashing horizons,
No sunsets or rises, people passing by, no cars, no surprises,
Sometimes I see a hawk pass, gliding, and I wonder how far away from home he too has flown,
And if he thinks of leaving it behind,
To be a brand new bird in a brand new sky,
Or of he’s a little bit more like me,
And he’s just to afraid to truly fly,
Glimpse a little daydream of the sights he may have seen,
I wonder if he’s perched himself on a tree down at the square,
I think the trees are in bloom down there,
I’d love to tell you what they look like

True Colors

•April 21, 2015 • Leave a Comment

There were days I used to glow,
Just like a halo,
Not an all over, all around, everywhere glow,
It was an eloquently intense, internally combusting radiance,
With an ever ready, flick of the wrist, easy to start, everyone friendly switch,
Though not opaque, it was the color of youth,
I was a fountain overflowing,
A shorted wire here, some bad solder there,
Maybe it just ran out of gas,
Something stopped burning and that glow’s gone out,
I’ve pleaded with it to rage again, to make me shine like a brand new dime,
But the faded flickers of suffering embers seem to be the best I can do,
It’s no longer warm, jealous of the bright,
Not soft and flowing, scorching, growing,
No longer sleeping at night,
The absence of light, pushing, paving ways to the outside air,
Allows the skin to collapse, the creases to deepen,
A dull stare and an “I don’t care” become a new wardrobe,
Shadows become features… and familiar places,
I prefer night time now because I blend in better,
And the less of everyone there is to see there’s much less chance for jealousy,
I used to burn the same as you,
My fire flashed with every grin amplified by unscarred, pink glass skin,
The color of night it kept at bay, now bangs at my mirror every day,
It whispers in a tone only my eyes can understand,
“I’m the only thing that fits.”
“You were born to wear me.”

Wasted

•April 16, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Start the day by boxing clocks,
Kick the door, step outside,
Feel some sunshine,
The glory of a wasted day,
Killing the time is killing me,
So much coming, so much going,
Smiles, laughing,
I’ll be here getting older,
Slavery isn’t dead,
They call it privilege.

•April 13, 2015 • Leave a Comment

“I wanna go higher!!”
Daddy’s little mouse echo’s across the whole baseball field,
She squeezes his leg, she’s squealing, “Daddy! Daddy! That was so much fun!”
On the way to van I hear him say, “You’re gonna be so pretty someday.”, and for first time I’m amazed,
Even someone as blind as me, can very clearly, plainly see,
That that woman is as pretty as she’s ever gonna be.

 
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