me and my planar

the piano pulses,
guitar twangs,
the world around me lets itself
become enveloped in the music of eras ago.

my heart races,
mind sings,
i think about the life head and
know that three years from now i'll be born anew.

what lies beyond?
cliché inquiries are just so right,
because all i can come up with is
the archetypal wistfulness of sixteen years of dreaming.

and you know
what?
it's alright.

inspired by something vague

i dreamt last night
i was over the edge,
drowning in heather and
crying out sand.

then i woke up sweaty
and looked at my hands,
saw the blood of the innocent,
and knew i was right.

frequency

another overcast day,
purgatory in the skies.
i'm wishing right now (as always) for it to change.
and what will it be?
a storm?
snow?

will the lightning crash down,
and will the thunder roll 'round
while i let myself down lightly amidst
the might of
nature.

or will peace come with morning,
in freezing angels pouring down,
that they might blot out the darkness
and remind me how wonderful
silence really is.

or maybe it will be sun.
i hope i'm not setting myself up for disappointment.

string arrangement

i could be working right now, you know that?
but an epiphany has suddenly emerged
from the cacophony in my head,
an ironic little laugh bubbles to a shout.

i think it's time we called a time out.
believe, me it's nothing that you've said.
only the invitations retracted seem to surge
to the forefront of the storm that i'm staring at.

and i can't honestly tell if i've been wronged,
so thorough is your devotion to pleasing the throng.

better than worse

slowly slipping into dissonant serenading,
i entertain the thought of hermitage,
because maybe my preconceptions were always wrong,
and idealistic behavior gets you nowhere in the end.
you really know how to put me in the mood - you know which.

attend the sail.

he could open his windows,
and maybe he should.
take off the blindfolds and shout in joy,
take in the sun!
it hasn't been so bright in so long.

he once played among the willows,
where others sat he stood.
he's a renegade and a knight playing coy,
see him run!
it hasn't been so bright in so long.

spies

the world around you is falling apart -
and by that i mean you are the eye of the storm.
and i'm sorry. but i dream too, you know.
and i know what it is to want more, feel it just out of grasp.

it's a dull throbbing and bobbing and in and out
until you know; even the evil is drawing you in.
am i right? i'd give my left eye to meet you in hell
and to battle it out with the forces that be,

and to forget what we know and let the music blare.
because it's so, so much better when it's written down.