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The Curse

Truth shines through between the lines,
Shafts of light creep out of empty words,
Even badly rhyming, mixed up lines
Shed emotion from time to time.

Without that craft or understanding,
Any tricks of any trade,
These amateur priests of Americana,
Take aim at that weary myth of creation.

This madness need not be specific,
It's spread to every single one,
In this crazy, twisted time,
The humble baker has a rhyme.

The only furrow on the brow,
Is that when you write, you must unload,
When that blood drips out, drip by drip,
You take down your walls, brick by brick.

When the roof falls,
Leaves you empty,
Running to horizons you never knew you had,
At least you lived.

The Unanswerable

I am 8 years old,
Lying in my bed,
I cannot sleep,

A thought shuddered me into a cold sweat,
I jumped from my bed,
Dodging demons on the stairs.

Into the room I burst, unsure,
My father would surely have the answer,
I stood and waited,
Confident now,
In the light.

My father thought and took his time,
"It gets easier as you get older son",
He spoke surely and calmly,
Sure to calm me down,
His eyes were cold.

I returned from whence I came,
I could not sleep,
Afraid to close my eyes,
Raging against the dying of the light.

I am 22 years old now,
Lying in my bed,
I cannot sleep.

Observations from a Tallish Building

Are you sitting comfortably,
Then I'll begin,
This one's for you only,
Pay attention, wake up,
It's the small matter of your existence,
I have a question,
Do you really exist?

There's millions of you out there,
Wailing for attention,
You drive and you grind and you sulk and you whine,
Never stop,
Never pause,
Never wait,
Never think,
As you file past my window,
Shiny peacocks of destruction.

I wonder, do you wonder?
Is this life, Is this love?
As you ride the slow train east,
Do you think,
Do you ask,
Why this everyday?

Of course,
That's just how it works son,
This great clanking human machine,
I'm sorry you don't like it,
But it's built now,
Can't you see?

I understand, believe me,
You can't change the world,
I just wish it were different,
Wish you'd stop for a second,
Just a moment, nothing more.

Look at this world,
Really look, don't observe,
You are a speck of dust on a cog,
In a machine inside a machine,
In this beautiful prison, purpose built for ourselves.

You can bang and crash on the walls all you want,
Or squabble and fight for the chinks of light,
Or embrace it, and live it
And prove to me,
Prove you exist.

Ancient History Repeating

It was time.
It had always been time.
He stirred and woke.
It was time.

He had waited for this moment,
The world and time itself had waited for this moment.
Yet this moment had always existed and always would,
The sands of eternal time fade to black without this moment.

Brutus was aware of nothing but the silvery glint of the blade.
Time flowed through him, pulsing with energy.
With a flick of a wrist, he twisted the knife in.
The body fell to the floor endlessly.

Saturday Night's Alright

Lost in Babylon, I wander lonely in a crowd,
In this full bloated sea, my emptiness is my shroud,
I blend in,
Like a pyramid in Nevada.

The citylights shock me into silence,
I reel in the endless dementia of the night,
Body on body falls and slinks home 'neath the street.

In their place comes peace,
Only vague siren calls to victims way out of sight,
And the river Styx flows merrily into the cold, dark night.

Shadow Boxing

Each footprint in the fresh snow follows me,
Stabbing with grace in the dark,
These whispered promises and throwaway lines,
Drift over me so softly, so sweetly.

The friendly clock deserts me,
Time drips with menace from its shattered hands,
The snow melts,
Leaving me with nothing.

Descending the in-between land of the soul,
Dark voices creep and bells long to toll,
All I can do,
All anyone can do,
Is nothing, endlessly, repeating.

True Lies

I feel you look at me,
I haven't seen you in weeks,
It feels like the sunrise.

I hear you talk about me,
We haven't spoken in months,
My ears burn.

I see you in reflections of shadows,
There is no contact,
I think of what might have been.

Above Recommended Operating Temperature

They supervise my every word,
These demons lick and spurt,
Their emotionally distracted dictats,
That burn, and twist, and turn

The war inside my head seeks to break and create,
A chasm in your lonely world,
That only beasts and fiery kinds,
Can hope to fly intact.

Gaza strip me from my mind,
Berlin wall me from conscious thought,
Purge, and twist, and break, and whine,
This machine runs hot.

Postage

Send me to the hanging tree,
I go there willingly,
Not on my knees,

Send me to the city streets,
I wander blindly,
No one to meet.

Send me to the rolling fields,
I feel the beauty,
I have to kneel.

Send me home,
I will not go,
My place is here among the now.