Don't Hold Your Breath

What can I do with these worldly objects
They give comfort away from boredom
But that’s it
What can I do with these needless desires
They last only minutes but come to me again
And again

I’ll be a Buddhist
But not quite devout
I'll let you know
When I figure things out
Don’t hold your breath

Concrete Uncertainty

I admit that my view of reality is somewhat skewed
So please concede that yours may be too
Just look out on the streets and anyone asked will
Tell you something different but still remarkable
No matter what strange synonyms used
Gestures, suggestions, advice or truths
It’s an entity unto itself which completely relies on us to know it
Yet we still don’t really know it at all

I admit that my feelings on society are without hue
They are dead and insensible and cynical trash
I can say the most profound things then go right back to
Talkin’ like dis, y’all

Even if it is just for a cheap laugh

Truth

When you play around streets this fixed
You see everything you don’t need to
Governmentally sanctioned jester-idiots
Telling every dope he’s going to heaven
Now they just slouch at porches idly
Who the hell really waits to die?
Truth says, hey, I guess we all do
But some can hold back by neck and collar

Truth kills
then redirects
Truth kills
and resurrects

What kind of wretched soul does it take
To sit beneath the god for goodness sake
To wait unaware, anywhere rain collects
As taxmen pile on porches and decks
And look away from the greater expanse
Taking note of every last expense
For living, for breathing, for paying off
The greatest debt

Truth kills
then revives
a whole new truth
to stumble by
Truth kills
and resurrects
and sets you off
on any other path but this one

Woozy

Change
Who anticipates change
Deranged
Who cuts into fire and bleeds water
What’s to gain
But a whole new outlook
Outlooks are undemanding
Outlooks do no affection

Who’s to blame
Now accepting exceptions
All true statements
To breed from the false
If we believe them
Fabrications
Fabricated
Venus daisy, peckish
Woozy

The sun is burning
I am burning
I am laughing at reddened skin
And pathetic ploys for pleasure
The hedonists speak as if in faith
I wonder if the focal point
Enjoys its position
Its varicose broken-hearted
Showing like unintended favors

Change
Who makes change
The change in my veins
The change in the filter
The change of underwear
1 month off
4 weeks to get it straight
28 days or so
And I’m a babbling brook
A rambling packrat
A dueling wombat
Eye narrowed on prey
Getting more than enough
More than enough
Change
What brings about this change
This coursing of eyeballs
And swishing of swords
Shaped like pens
And if I want change
How do I change it
If I want change
How do I make it stop
How do I make it stop, mommy

Middle Ground

How can I call you "friend"
When every single moment around you
Is a moment I can't get back

How can I call you "friend"
When you can't even understand the concept
Of variety
Thinking differently
That perhaps
Just maybe
Someone might think
In a completely opposite way

How can I call you foe either
When I know
You're not evil
You're harmless, more or less
And rather pathetic

Just like me, huh?
Finally
Some middle ground

What's the Big Idea

somebody says “Big Idea”
i scoff, small-fry
if it’s not worth doing
i won’t do anything at all
they say Heaven’s keen on hard work
but i could stumble away my days
then apologize right before fading
no laughing between teeth

ur hole belefe syxtems @ fault

somebody says “Big Idea”
i say quit thinking small
see that dartboard over the horizon
that’s right, you can’t because it’s over the horizon
but that’s the ideal me
i can’t really tell it how it is
without opening/closing statements
(damp cue cards)

how
Nothing Impresses Me
on this dimensional plane

while i’m selling myself short
you’ll be selling for every penny you’re (not) worth
call it modesty
call it i am who i am and that’s alright
even though
my hole belefe syxtems flawed

All My Friends

All my friends are acrobats
They can juggle several things at once
All my friends can multitask
While I can barely handle one ball
All my friends are beautiful
It comes so naturally
All my friends can look in the mirror
Whenever, and like whatever they see
All my friends are superheroes
It’s work, school, friends, save the world
All my friends have heat vision
They can see through walls where the ladies are
All my friends are too good to be true
There’s something not there inside
All my friends can juggle so many things
Besides personality
That ball always hits the floor

Closing Night

This one is almost at its end
The curtain calls are getting old
What happens after this?
What happens after that?

The blood river runs to the horizon
Empties itself in the confines of space
Buries its trust in the soil of stars
Breaks and collapses and becomes whole

The play’s last run will leave a mark
But all these scars make us worn, and beautiful
The end to one, the beginning to another
Death laughs last, if he laughs at all

Death laughs last, if he laughs at all

"Must Be High to Enjoy One's Self"

Says the sign at the door
I stand patiently behind the red velvet
And wait for the sun again

Caradio

Nobody's road but my own
I chose not to choose one
So the lights are off now
And I don't know when to turn
And I don't know when to quit
There are a million routes
On the road of life
And I can repeat a million stupid metaphors
But I still accept advice from no one

The man in the passenger's side
Tells me things I was thinking
When I was twelve and a half
And when he's not spewing crap
He's yelling at women with their tops down
I guess it's true when I say
That's me, only on another road

I turn on the radio
To songs that make me think
Rarely ever hear Joni anymore
Never even heard John Cale

The woman with the fork
Said to the man with the
Spoon-fobia
"Don't come home
If you know
What's good for ya."

I can't dance

The senses have dulled
“Where do you get a thought like that?”
So now you know
Just where all the storms go
There’s a crack in my head
And no brains inside it
Only endless repercussion
Made from absent music

The senses have dulled
Where does the reaper go on his off days?
So now we know
Your words, like dreamfluff for breakfast
Tomorrow’s crux
Buried in yesterday’s dirt
I see troubadours whistling your dirge
But you’ll write the ending, I’m sure

The senses have dulled
The chipped ax cutting bone
The turned-up shovel hitting stone
The weathered hammer building a home
No one will ever live in
But the crowd still crowds around me
Singing their #1 hit song

“billy can't talk, jenny can't scream
joey can't walk, sally can't sing
tommy can't shout, annie can't think
tilly can't live, billy can't dream
and i can't dance, i can't dance
i can't dance, i can't dance
i can't dance, i can't dance
i can't dance, i can't dance
i can't dance, i can't dance
i can't dance but the dance don't need me

we can sing, satan's song
follow me, all day long
we can sing, satan's song
follow me, all night long
we can sing, satan's song
follow me, all week long
we can sing, satan's song
follow me, all month long
we can sing, satan's song
follow me, all year long
we can sing, satan's song
follow me, decade long
we can sing, satan's song
follow me, all life long…”

The senses have dulled
The senses have squeezed through the escape hatch when we need them most