a poem for flock

well the years have changed me
but not in your eyes,
it's a roundabout world
and we've no sense of size,
so we'll travel the world
and go wherever we want,
so we're back where we started,
but that what i want.

you're voice is whiny but your heart is good

the boys at home are content to rattle
and the pretty landscapes just keep on rolling by
while the director-types do their director thing
unaware of the staring eyes,
staring up at the stars praying, "let me in."

but it's a prayer that keeps on waiting,
and they can wait for their lives to pass and things
will just go on and on and on and people will love
but their ears will ring
with the silence the stars made from above.

the soldiers are coming home happy
and the cars are rattling by with a final note
so they make the best of their lives
'cause the future holds hope,
yeah, night is alive and the future holds hope.

the reason i want to be you (and not me)

well if there was an ounce of the freedom and an ounce of the love
i would give everything i owned just to be in your shoes
and i know it's no news but i want to be you so badly that
sometimes it hurts worse than it's worth.
when i'm turning every corner and hoping that i see
things that i've been told are impossible, unbelievable,
the longing i feel is nothing to the disappointment
when the world proves them right.

and why can't i be the one on the road who knows where he's going
the one who redeems himself at every turn who's got
guns and knives and yet he's the greatest man alive,
i would kill to be a killer as beautiful as this
or sacrifice the ones who don't deserve it -
but that's what makes you you...
not that it doesn't make you me...
it's just - there is no way to express everything.

i'll speak to you

the old man's car looks angry
whether he likes it or not,
and my old thing (her name is sadie)
sits, disheveled and hot.

while classic ballads blast my ears
i smile and sing along,
and the angry cars have known those years,
they smile and say i'm wrong.

i'll save you, sadie,
and fix you up,
you'll be a lady,
and lift me up.

i didn't know he had a station

i'd take your deal and make it double,
know full well the devil means trouble,
no guitar could make me stop
and no car would catch the cop,
just let me in. just let me in!

i'll sew my stitches and take the pain,
shoot myself before i'm slain,
just let cross the world like you,
see mountains, join the crew,
i want to live a life like you!

old music/habits, picking toenails, cool breezes, windup toys

so now i see him winding down
from the epiphany and the ecstasy
and it's too much of a blur, but i think he
hit something, or someone, and i know
it just felt so good.

see, that's a problem with poetry -
it's not as hard hitting or rambunctious
as her, or him, or the marionettes
that give you your joy because they're
so. damn. easy.

hobo

i see you're sitting on the side of the road,
and i wish i could tell all that i know,
but you'd tell me what you thought of how i live,
all the things i do wrong and the love that i give.
it's not quite enough just to sit down and scream,
you've got to do something, anything, anywhere.
there are too many tracks for one to make me care.

but i guess i'll say thank you for all you've said,
you're a good one and a bad one,
and maybe a friend.

another one gone

buried under flesh and blood and a mask,
he sighs and sleeps and tries to break through.
and i don't mind the struggle if it means
i can know him at all,
and maybe,
well,
make him feel a little bit better.

but why can't the other just stop and ask,
even though they've never known just what to do,
it's on blood and milk and sorrow they've been weaned,
and they're gonna full,
and baby,
hell,
they've gotta look at you.

public humiliation

it's inevitable, right?
responding to myself,
the echoes of strange, fleeting fancies,
confirming my fears and it feels so good to rot away,
only i know that tomorrow will be okay.

so if it's forgettable i'll forget it,
and let it take me away,
let that syllable come and enslave my senses,
while i'm moaning and groaning and
dreaming of jumping fences

well, it's a nice notion, anyway,
a little dream on a cold summer day
when the rain is pouring while the sun shines through
and it reminds of me,
but also of you.

here's to you, bpi

if i could hold this energy and turn into poetry
the doors would fly open and the heads would turn,
but it's finite, you bitch,
'cause you made me this way -
i wasn't built for endurance but you tell me to stay.

so i witness the animals as they come out to play
knowing full well that i'm losing my touch,
and i'm thinking,
just let me stay this way -
but i wasn't built for endurance, i was built for today.

it is something

so bottoms up and we're out of this town,
if i smoked i'd be so goddamn high
my problems would look like a fly in the sky
and i'd listen to the children who pretend to drown.

well, it is always something but i'm not sure what,
so i drown in these puddles
until my meanings are muddled
because i can't bear to admit that i've become corrupt.

i guess it's something, but it's really not much.

fucker

do you even now feel victimized
when you've caught the fire in everyone's eyes
and the earth is humming in tune with you
and the world is rushing to catch your fall,
can you really regret all the things you feel
when there are other ones,
silent ones?

your worse half

now i've locked you in the basement
and i hope you rot to death
there's a thousand things you've said to me
but you've wasted all that breath

because there's truth where i am going
i didn't choose a door,
when i padlocked your intentions,
i opened a thousand more.

this song is true

i heard there was a place
where we could run a way
and all our lies would turn to truth
and our faults would melt away

we're running out of time
and apathy won't rhyme
when there lies kings and queens alike
we've crushed their marriage and their lives

we're not the victims, we're the cause
and if you look at all our flaws
they all add up to the same old lines:
this dirty rebellion doesn't work
and the same old song is the same old shit
'cause we're out luck and the frying pan...
let me- let me- let me out of the fire

i heard there was a song
that righted all our wrongs
and mom and dad would see me again
and the others would agree

i've gotten better, gotten strong
and if you could read my palm
all the lines would let you know:
this dirty rebellion doesn't work
and the same old song is the same old shit,
so we're out of this pan and into the-
let me- let me- let me out of the fire.

as things pass / not 111

so the girl smiled as she pulled back her bangs,
and she had no idea where she was going.
her friends had all given her words of advice
but in the end, all she could think of was home.
and she knew in her heart it was the farthest away
that she'd ever be from peace,
it was the problem in her perfect life
and her parents were a blight on her soul.
but still,
it was home?

but these days are passing and the girl is too big
for her notions of peace and belief.
she's gotten older, wiser, stronger, larger, sadder,
but most of all she's found a reason never to trust.
because the people she comforted cry in the dust
where their sounds have no soul-finding voice,
she knows there's no redemption
for those who are caught, only
she wishes she could cry.

it's two days 'til summer, but who really counts?
and while the sun is creeping over my shoulder,
i haven't felt colder in so, so long.
these songs i am hearing have no verse,
though some are happy and others not,
i watch the girl and i watch her friends,
and i know that -

well, in the end -

i'm not one of them.

still, i wish i could tell her that as things pass,
this moment will help her along,
our friendship was nothing but long as she lasts,
she'll find peace,
she'll find peace,
i'll find home.

counselor

your wings cast too much of a shadow.
i'd reach out to touch but you fly too high,
my pathetic attempts at flying have landed me
down here,
and so now i must be content to watch.

i guess i'll watch until my time comes due,
and the wind catches me just the right way,
but why do i have to take this every day
alone?
no, i'll never be alone so long as the earth is here.

just, lonely now and then.
i'll sing a song about myself
and people will shout and sing,
and even though your wings are longer,
i'll gladly wear your ring.

re-imbursed

there's a difference between homesick and home sick,
and i can never really tell which i'd rather be,
though sometimes the willows try and tell me
that there are aspects i'll never really see.

there's a wind beneath my troubles and my pain,
that i've never figured out how to hold,
though sometimes i can breath it underwater,
i'll never really know it 'til i'm old.

and somehow i'm fine with all these troubles,
if it means that i'll be better in the end,
for now adventures wait to happen,
for now the the rules are breaking if not bent.

earlier times

i wonder
sometimes,
if i've changed enough
for you,
or them,
or whoever is looking
back at me,
through the stars
and the moon
and the sun,
and
time,

and then i realize
that all i'll ever need is right here. no breaks, no quakes, no forced emotion. the pain is real but the joy is alive. the gain is real and the ploy is a lie. so let's lie here forever.

this throat of mine is cleansed

i'll laugh and dislodge
all the scum and gunk
that's crawled its way to the top,
i'll claw it out
and watch it shout,
no pity for this body.

only cleansing,
only health,
the rest is fine
but laughs are wealth
and i can't laugh
unless you get the hell away from me.

i don't want you in my life no more

he wrenches the door open
and your head snaps too,
this house is your coffin
elsinore is your womb,
else we four are a tomb.

your blood it smells sweet
to the carrion birds,
the boy knows this and waits,
his patience is great, though
relations are fate.

but the clock ticks incessant
and the little boy's bored,
his mother is eaten
time has taken his life,
rhymes have shaken this knife.

the weight of words (oh gods, what have i done?)

we're all waiting for affirmation,
redemption's there, we just need to find it,
and the earth is hurting while we scour the land,
searching for our crosses and standing hand in hand

keys are falling like rain on glass,
and the dukes are dancing with their pretty wives,
but redemption waits for those who'll find it,
we can't spend eternity crying.

and the smiles aren't always fake,
love is a reason and words have weight,
but the ships are beached and the cars have sunk,
redemption's a word,
and i'm trying to lift it.

no, i want you to lift weights

be my guy,
can't you see it's late?
the birds are singing,
but we're full of hate,
and we'd throttle friends just to put end
just to put end to the way we work

be my guy,
take me out to the woods,
get me high,
give me life,
and we'd smoke ourselves silly to forget out lives
to forget our lives and our stupid wives

be my guy,
challenge me to a fight,
swing a fist,
break my wrist,
pull me out of this life and into the night
and maybe i'd feel things if you'd be my guy.