passing me by (song)

lights
passing me by
i never even showed up
not sure why

life
passing me by
i hardly even showed up
not sure why

time
passes me by
i can't give up
if i never tried

love
passes me by
i never knew the truth
so i lied

lights
passing me by
i barely even showed up
not sure why

life
passing me by
i don't want to show up
not sure why

amass

your voices
if only they can be as strong
as you hope
shape them with breathe
and fury
to be a slave
to justice

try to ignore their reply
of metal and powder
exhaled through steel lips
pursed
shouting faster than the speed of sound

there will be time enough
for candles
and prayers
and martyrs
the wounded and dead
will be tended to
like red memories

do not let your hands
be cuffed
anywhere but
before your mouth
do not let your doubts
be heard
by anyone
by yourself

barricade the streets
and your resolve
with
half understood ideas of democracy
and rust and wire
with
words shouted in unison
and disabled  machines
with
splayed wood and crumpled newspaper
and fidelity to the future

one is a demonstration
the other a crowd
one is a mob
the other a mass

Maybe for the Rest of Your Life (song)

Waiting outside a truck stop where he'll spend the night
Maybe not today, maybe for the rest of his life
Tips his baseball cap at the women passing by
Last year's team weren't nothing
All they did was try

Riding the bus West, watching  her past slip from sight
Maybe not today, maybe for the rest of her life
Packed a bag with regrets and made sure to leave it behind
Pushes her hands in her pockets, wonders what she might find

   CHORUS
     None are so blind as those we will not see
     Stepping forward into uncertainty
     Most things don't come easy, even fewer are black and white
     Maybe not today, maybe for the rest of your life

Lost his job in Bakersfield, same as all his friends
Heard there's work out East, in Chicago or South Bend
Kicks his tire and looks across, the highway that's nearby
Everyones in a hurry, most of 'em aren't sure why

Left her folks one night, before her bed was even warm
Snuck out through the backdoor, just like she'd always swore
Momma took her sacraments but mostly drank the wine
Daddy thought himself a prophet, hope he's wrong this time

    CHORUS

He leaves his grandma a message to say he's doing fine
Maybe not today, maybe for the rest of his life
Cracks his window, let's the engine run, smell of gasoline in the air
Elvis on the radio, sounds just like a prayer

She smiles on the noisey bus as the rain beats down outside
Maybe not today, maybe for the rest of her life
Leans her head against the window with her jacket on the glass
Falls asleep to the voices, that sound like Sunday mass

     CHORUS

hell is a support group

locked down with knees

pressing against the

black underside

uneven & pockmarked by

things added

or things taken away

of a desk borrowed

from the classroom

down the hall,

your leg shakes

when you are nervous,

'sorry we didn't expect

to have such a

turnout tonight'

the loose screws from

the inclined desk

to the craining bar

that leads to the seat

the bar looks like

a swan's neck,

dirty and silver

tired under the

pressures of elbows

and teenager's textbooks

they squeak, the screws,

the desk, the bar, from

your jittering leg

across from you

not directly but

still across, a man

sits with a cigarette

in his hands. the

tip black and stunted,

the man had put it

out underneath his

chair. there is no

smoking, underneath

your chair or otherwise

but he still holds

the cigarette, thumbing

the filter and rolling

it back and forth

between his middle

and index finger

there are times

he reaches into the

jacket pocket he put

the lighter in and

pulls out a handkerchief,

he is older, maybe

in his fifties, but

there are also times

he reaches in and pulls

out nothing, what do

you do with your

hands, while you are

talking or listening,

uncomfortably to others'

stories that are too

similar to yours in

a general sort of

way. what had

set you apart outside

of this room, green

blackboard with Spanish

for tomorrow or

leftover from today's

lesson, makes you the

same here. the man

in the blue, union

t-shirt's son goes here

as does the woman

to your right's

daughter. you went to

a school far away

from here. Sue,

Shirl, Sally, the

woman to your

right, whose nametag

you cannot see

but her name,

you recall, starts

with an "s",

speaks of her problems

as they relate

through her daughter

and with her hands

smoothes her slacks

repeatedly. most

try to keep their

hands very still

the man across from

you, not directly

but still across,

lights his cigarette

again. "sorry i wasn't

thinking" he stabs

it under his desk.

the counselor, commentator,

moderator smiles with

a little too much

compassion and understanding

for such an insignificant

thing. the smoking

man pulls out a

fresh cigarette and

begins rolling it

between his fingers

again

ashes (song)

- yeah so i'm posting some songs i've written up here too. they are a bit different from my poetry. anyways, i've got music for this as well, but i'm still aways away from posting myself performing-

if ashes

can stay ashes

and dust

remain dust

i want to be

alive

if my thoughts

whispered

into

the night

they would scream

alive

if words

and wishes

could shape

our fates

i would sing

alive

if i could

lay here

with you

all day

i would dream

alive

if every

color

made me feel

this way

i would paint

alive

if patience

and virtue

burned a deep

blue flame

i would pray

alive

i've written all

your troubles

on a single

page

and burned it so you could be

alive

alive

i've stared here

for hours

and tried to remember

your face

hoping it would keep you

alive

alive

if ashes

can stay ashes

and dust

remain dust

i want to be

alive

alive

if ashes

can stay ashes

and dust

remain dust

i want to be

alive

untitled

-lordy mama mia, this is old, found it amongst some old short stories-

the moon looks like a nail clipping

perspective lost in darkness

car lights collide

separate themselves from who they were

a mistake

they are still separated from the rest

alone

abandoned

not a safe place to make decisions.

thoughts fueled by something

stronger than reason

it seems

everything

is stronger than reason

that is the reason I am upset

excuse the pun

I know I won’t.

Is reason a healthy state of mind

what the hell is a healthy state of mind

or a mind for that matter

is it matter

does it matter

mind is even more slippery than health

but not as slippery as happiness

and there is no proof that happiness is health

or health is happiness

or that either can exist in a vacuum

there was a time I lived in a vacuum

I wrote a lot of confessional poetry

a lot of crappy confessional poetry

a lot of poetry like this.

untitled

there are fields
which have trapped me
unfairly
and joys which
have stolen
the dyes from shirts
and drawn the second to last
breath from my
peace
i walk with legs
built on songs
sung underwater
by lost sailors encrusted
in stone
the same fury
that punches its way
out of a drunks skull
and turns a child
into
something frightening and
sometimes horrible
is in my lack of motion
it's in me sitting here
emptying a room
drawing conclusions