Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Are you as sick as me?
Do you need some form of healing?
I get bored of this song
Before I’m even done
Singing

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Dust

There’s a big wave
There’s a big train
There’s a big plane
Come to take me away

The light is big and bright
The light is big and black
The light is white
And it’s calling me
I’m sorry

This is not suicide
It’s more like
Remember all those times
We hit our heads
And it hurt so much
We’d wish we’d died

There’s a big wind
There’s a big cloud
There’s a big field
Doesn’t it just make you wanna run

I think you were the first
That knew exactly what I meant
We spend so much time
So much time
Just thinking about it
Then one day
It just comes
And that’s it

I think there’s enough
Dust in this house
To fill an urn
Or two or three

Saturday, April 25, 2009

John Wayne Ain't No Fag

I’m not too smart ma
Not too smart
Just a dapper lead man
20 dollars change pocketed
Look at these teeth
They sparkle

Follow me through the red room
Pull me through the blue
Throw me into your bed
Turn it straight to vivace
con moto, allegro, attace
I’m gone ma

Ears ring, cold blood to head
Eyes stinging chlorine
Bubbles to the surface
Cement and brick handbag
Like style
Love gravity

I never meant to get so involved
With the bad bad men
I’m just not too smart ma
Shit just happens

I'm not one of them

Poetry is full of idiots
That want to write poetry
It is proper morons
Trying so goddamn hard
to refine English
I'm not a poet
I could never admit to that

Too often
They think of poetry
and yawn
And I don't blame them
but I'm too busy writing songs
without music
or prose with rhymes
to hear them

Poetry is full of bums
That think they're reaching
a higher plane
God stands solemn and belly laughs

Poetry is full of idiots
That think they have something
Worthwhile to say
What did I tell you
Couldn't if I tried
I just wanna get in the car and drive away
I just wanna get in the car and drive away
I know there’s nothin’ there
There never was
I just wan-na
drive away

I just wanna get in the car and drive away
I just wanna get in the car and drive away
I wonder just how far
2 thousand dollars will get me
I just wan-na
drive away

I know there’s nothin’ there
There never was

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Songs Named After Women

You told me
Well hell, there’s no use
Spittin' flies
If you’re already bruised
To it

You told me
You’re just more in love
With a picture on a screen
If I know what you mean
No I didn't

You told me
You grew up saying mean things
But then you conformed
When you ran out of friends
Too bad we can't just
Love ourselves, huh

You told me
It’s so easy to fake
But I find it so hard
When it’s already hard to be
Myself, so wishy-washy

You told me
A lot of stupid things
But I remember every one
As if every man really wants
The dumb pretty ones
You almost made me a believer

You told me
If I didn’t grow up soon
I wouldn’t grow up at all
That’s the one time you were right
And we know it

You told me
To tell them
If they get the wrong impression
Good
If they judge me after one night
Whose fault is that?
If they already hate me
What is it I can do
To make them hate me
Even more?

At best
You made something last
At worst
You made me laugh
Then sob about it
When you weren't around

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Robin Alexander 7

I finally finished my novella
I've had so much time now
Since Annie and Telly left
For good this time
I miss the kid so goddamn much
But it's for the best
The sadness inspires me
in some strange way
Although I don't think I'm
All too happy with the way
The story finally turned out either

But I'm glad to be done
With something
No matter how small
or worthless

Mom and dad I hope you're listening
Because these silhouettes that hang around me
Aren't too good of company
And I'm really sorry for whatever it was I did
To make you guys go so quick

Midnite Fool's Gold Rush

Black is the sky tonight
And my eyes will not stay open
But still I cannot sleep for the
Fear of dawn

The blood red of the neon
Screaming “open” through my eyelids
And they’re waiting there inside
Huddled together, just staring out at me
Now I know I can’t go in

Another feeling of déjà vu
As if all of the probabilities
Decided to repeat their selves tonight
And only tonight

A man in a hood approaches me
As I stand trying to focus on
Any particular features beneath the hood
But it’s just too dark or the air
Is just too humid
Most of what he says is
Completely unintelligible
But I make out some sort of
Sob story
I turn and start to walk away
But I feel him tugging
Tugging, tugging at me
“I DON’T HAVE ANY!”
I scream
Or at least I think I do
That’s what they all say

I’m nothing like the ones they compare me to
And I too compare you to those I once knew
As if attaching familiarity, somehow makes it easier

Oh but it does
We trick our brains daily

(this was originally three things that i just decided to join together. any disjointedness can be attributed to that; at least this time.)

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

For the Lack of Life

Here I lie in my dead zone
Do not even walk within five feet of its border
Just go home and dwell on it
You’ll forget in a fortnight or maybe less

I never wanted to shake you to the core
I only intended good, bright, beautiful things
It’s just that you weren’t there to tell me
When I found all but the light elsewhere

It’s funny if I lie here long enough
The grass will wilt and eventually die
Like no matter how hard I try
Things go sour all around me
It’s the simple act of being
And occupying a space
But still only truly seeing
Through the eyes of a watcher

Sometimes I feel like I’m from some other plane
And whoever it was that sent me here simply wiped out
All those wonderful memories
But they sometimes squeeze out disguised as
Part of the subconscious or imagination
Or something

I’m really not some sort of headcase
And me saying this is only letting you know that
I care too much what you think
But hell, we all are sometimes, aren’t we?
And reality can only get to be so boring
If you let it
Like I did

My little dead zone is comforting in a strange way
It’s just something I can count on, I suppose

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Somebody Else's Fire

Her heart explodes
And blue paint smatters the walls
Completely covered
But too tired to attempt escape
I just lean my head back
To keep it down
But I still taste the acid
At the back of the throat
Too much candy for dinner
Not enough to last us till breakfast

But she’s already dead
Or she may as well be
And I’m just dangling
Full arms flung from
This makeshift lounge-chair
As the two-note samba
Plays freely for itself

Climb into the kitchen
And watch the sun go down
Blue paint dripping off the windowsill
Too many interesting-sounding diseases
To keep me fully immersed in
Wilted edged “research”
I read half for pleasure
I write for the same sport
As the man that shoots down the elk
From his back porch
Is it lying if you mean it
Is it murder if the victim
Is a lesser being

Drink a glass of tap water
And wonder why everyone
Complains about it
Tastes fine if you’re thirsty

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Dream On (if yer able)

Just let me sit here and be tired please
No sleep allowed so just let me rest my eyes
They say “you’re young; you’ll survive”
But I’m just getting older

This time tomorrow I’m on clouds
Walking the river, traversing Downs
Oh no, it must all be witchcraft
Unless of course you’re Jesus
And you’re not

Just let me sit here and hate the space
I occupy so seamlessly
I do not slip through the fabric
In fact it aches when I press firm against it

I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to be here
But where’s the next best way out of reality
Minus the hard drugs
I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to be here
But I’ll get through it, so don’t
Feel sorry, god knows, I never have

Ha

Maybe I do want to feel your pain
It's not a thing like empathy

All these beautiful, thoughtful people
Sing of lovers becoming one
But that doesn’t happen
Sex is some moment of semblance
And the offspring is the semblance conceived
But I am still me
And you are still you
These better halves are
Nothing
But notions

Just let me sit here and die alone
The stupid things I say
Measured up to the ones I don’t
I wonder if
You even got the gist of
What I meant
Or meant to mean
At best

Maybe you can feel my pain
Not at all in empathy

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Bleeding Scratchpost

I never belonged in any of your circles
And I never asked the “privilege”
I’m alone and yeah it’s lonely (no shit)
Tragedy eats a great big hole through my loins
And it’s my fault, oh joy, oh well

And I don’t hate any of you
You just bore me and I bore myself
But when the interesting type occasionally
Makes his way around, I just don’t know
What to do with myself
We’ve all got our own celebrities I guess
Mine just aren’t the prettiest ones in the room

He walks with a suit and tie
But inside he’s a broken man
An etched out, chiseled out idea of himself
Splashed against the headboard
He stands up completely straight
But his face is still in the ground
Not exactly looking at the past, no
But looking for something in nothing
Half-expecting, Half never-expecting a thing

I never wanted your understanding
Getting it just kind of scared the mystique
I never wanted your true acceptance
I just wanted an ounce of respect, as a human be-I-ing

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Man named Hazel

You can rhyme
So you think you’re clever
But can you keep time
With the rest of the band
There’s no internal beat
Not even that of your heart
So what can you do
With the external but never
Substantial
Changes

Are you alive inside that box?
Because there’s no one out here to talk for you
Are you hearing me inside your shell?
Because there’s no saints, no angels
They just don’t care like you do about you

And there’s your proof
Why the sun is burning
Not for me or you
Just because it can
Here’s more untruths
For a man named Hazel
They'll open up the sky
If you want back in

Are you okay inside that tea oak chest?
Because there’s no key out here for you
Just a lock, chisel and maybe a hammer
But no one wants to waste the energy
To let you out anymore

Friday, April 3, 2009

Boy cries wolf; wolf eats boy; boy eats through large intestine; wolf cries; wolf dies; boy dies of poisoning; town rejoices.

Every little thing you say matters
We just won’t listen when you are digging
In the dirt for a sign of light
It does not burn through soil
That’s why they douse flame with it

Are you on the outside of the inside
Of the one
I’ve got no friends
And nowhere to run
When they cut you
Did you bleed?
Or was it so dry
Like the dehydrated
Diabetic

They gave me a drink
It was called cryo chai
And I drank it
The sun’s energy cooled off and melted
And now we’re believing
All of the scalpels of doctors
And doctors with analgesics
Treating us like sweet pets
Treating us with sweet treats
From the sugarlick

Please refrain from
That sort of language
See, these kids don’t need to
Hear things like that
I guess all that matters is
The age you get dulled
Because it’s all gonna happen
Whether you are 42
Or 12

Suck on your diet shakes
Rattle snakes eating lo-carb cakes
As long as its understood and consensual
Everything must go
Around and come back
To the place they dug
In the soil
Where light shines through
Out the month
And in the navel
Orange, brown and rotten
Words like a whip
Crack
Everybody stops and drops
Every late bird caught
Sucking up worms
Through the holes in the floor
Bored

(Pretentious artsy crap? Maybe. Do I care so much? Eh...)

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Whether by the Gleaning Sun

I took the train
Because I didn’t want to be seen
Stand around in the heat
Of a hundred’s breathing
It doesn’t bother me
Not as much

And I felt every second
The wound pumping
Like the gold watch I took off
And gave to the bum

No cashback
I already asked
That’s what you get for playing the role of
The nice guy, yeah

Todd playing
The voice of god
On the radio
And actually making sense
Out of it
Who knows how long to
The end of the world
But the coast I know
Is only miles away
Maybe the world’s flatter
Than they say

I’ve been alive before
But none like today
So many waves
Heading in their own directions
What now after finish
Back to start?

We could not take advantage of
The Samaritan
His views do not stem from
Naiveté