Monthly Archives: September 2012

Goodnight yellow bird

Goodnight yellow bird,
you sang me a song,
but without melody;
I can’t sing along.
Goodnight freedom,
how can I miss you?
If I’ve never dreamed,
my life isn’t true.
Goodnight to
bright lights, happy faces,
bodies shuffling,
different places.

Goodnight yellow bird,
I’ll sing you a song.
I’d save you a memory,
but you’ve already gone.
Goodnight freedom,
we had happy days,
with sunshine and laughter–
we go our own ways.
Goodnight to
everything I’ve loved.
the lights disappear
when I look above.

Goodnight yellow bird,
I’ll say with a tear.
I’ll never see your face,
you’ll never know my fear.

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Bloom

I float further
through the sky,
stumbling on blades
that remind me:
I am forever.

The wind calls home
every place I go.
Blue from the sky
masks the emotion–
I dropped the world.

On my own, I get
caught up in a whirlwind,
but only for a moment,
until I am forced north
for a retreat.

I have nowhere to go,
but I keep moving.
I only long for a place
to be familiar for me,
to rest permanently.

The wind finds a home
for me, finally–
near an old tree.
Its trunk has carvings
and holes and homes.

At last, I can break.
I settle in.
Soon you’ll wish
you were more dead
than me–said the tree.

I scoffed and said
you don’t know
what I’ve been through–
flying, not having
a place of my own.

The tree laughed
and sighed at once.
You know not
what you say
little one.

You are here to stay,
you will never move.
You will come to see
the thing you long for most
is the time when you were free.

Hours passed, days disappeared,
as did months and years.
The old tree decayed
and collapsed and
was carted off.

I stand taller than he
ever did.
Children run around me
and laugh and play.
I am forever.

Every day I think
about the words
imparted upon me
and I dream
of flying away.

One hundred thousand lives
pass through my eyes.
Hopes and aspirations
have died at my knees.
I am everything.

When you stand to see
everything there is
to see,
you only want to be
free.

So when I felt an aching pain
on that cool November day,
it only made me
feel warm
inside.

I knew that sharp
familiar sound
of the axe
putting me to sleep
slowly.

Perhaps I will be a decoration
or made of some use.
But as I feel the life
drain from me,
my spirit prepares to fly free.

As the blade slowly
takes away me,
I remember everything.
I am the world.
I am free.

And as the last slash
cuts through me,
everything I’ve known is gone
and I’m flying.
I am gone.

I begin the journey anew.
I fly without direction
without home.
I fly alone.
I am forever.

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Insomnia

Sometimes when I can’t close my eyes,
I feel like I’m drifting away.
Sometimes when I can’t close my eyes,
Minutes fade into hours, hours fade into days.

Sometimes when I leave the light on
I feel inspired to write the lovliest song.
Sometimes when I leave the light on
the secrets of the world reveal themselves wrong.

Sometimes when I find myself here alone,
I walk outside to sing a song to the moon.
Sometimes when I find myself here alone,
the end of civilization can’t come too soon.

Sometimes when my eyes feel heavier than my heart,
I crawl under my bed to hide from myself.
Sometimes when my eyes feel heavier than my heart,
I silently scream to the heavens for help.

Sometimes when I slide into a slumbering state,
I’m caught off guard–nonetheless still awake.
Sometimes when I slide into a slumbering state,
I hear a woman whisper in my ear, “Jake.”

Sometimes when I wake up, I just don’t know
who I am, where I am, if I’ll ever be right.
Sometimes when I wake up, I just don’t know
how I will make it through another sleepless night.

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The boy two doors down

Smiling faces greet us at the door,
unusual, but self-assure.
Tears are running down her cheek.
A mother should never look so meek.
Life took and took and took some more.

His sister sat by him in a chair
running her fingers through his hair.
In a far away world in her head
her baby brother was not dead.
She hoped she would wake up there.

Old friends and acquaintances too
would shake my hand, hope to renew
the times we shared–the dreams,
a lifetime ago, it now seems.
But an old friend passed–what do I do?

What do I do to show I feel blue?
Do I hang my head, stare at my shoes?
Do I smile it off, like others near me?
Do I furrow my brow, pretend to be angry?
Or do I whisper a prayer to you-know-who?

As I walk to the casket I realize
I am no one, nothing–and this life lies
too short not to cherish each beat
of the heart I neglect, but keep.
I am years away from the cries.

I grab a pen, as others before,
but I am never quite as sure,
that sending him off to a better place
is best through messages with little grace.
I never wished to be a great writer more:

I’m not sure where to start,
but I realize we must part.
When we were younger, a signed cast never
really made the arm feel better,
but I’m hoping this will fix my broken heart.

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Laura

My conscience disappeared
for perhaps a few years.
I never meant to hurt you,
but I never knew
what she would want me to do.

She was sick, I told myself
she would never be well
again, this is what took her home,
through pearly gates all her own.
I thought she was leaving me alone.

But the evidence on the screen
punishes and reminds me
that the monsters in my head,
these monsters I so dread,
were born inside her lifeless bed.

I clutched the pillow case
and pressed hard against her face.
I told myself I love her
I told myself there’s no cure.
Nothing but hollow words.

Laura, the sickness killed her.
Her cancer:
Me.
Laura, the sickness killed me.
My cancer:
Infidelity.
Laura, mental sickness
got the best of me.

My sickness used hers
as a means to an end.

Laura, I never knew you well.
Laura, I’m heading for hell.
You tell me this for making a
heartbeat slowly fade away.
I can’t erase yesterday.

And as you run and scream and cry,
I slowly start realizing why
I never felt the pain before
I never opened up the door
I never thought about her more.

You were a figment from a dream,
and I had to hear your scream
to remind me of my evil past.
Things moved too fast.
Shattered glass.

I wake up and try to slowly walk
away from this malevolent mock-
reality that’s causing me
to lose touch with what’s really
me–here and there and nobody.

You have no reason to believe me
when I tell you I am sorry, Laura.
But just know that if I had it all to do again,
I’d want Mary’s last breath to be in my arms
and not beneath my clenched fists.

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The night ends with a hug

The popcorn in the microwave
soon becomes an empty bowl,
knocked over in the floor,
with kernels scattered
to the darkest regions
below the sofa.

The black cat hiding in the curtains
will soon scratch at the door.
And hop upon the furniture,
searching for a way out–
an escape from the undead.

The television has become silent.
Once the center of attention,
it is but a distraction
from the corners of our eyes.
Conversation carries on.

The long journey looming.
Do I want to leave,
or do you want me to go?
Or perhaps it is neither, or both,
but right now, I don’t know

The night ends with a hug,
and maybe the hint of more
meetings in the evenings–
and movies filled with gore.

But right now,
I don’t know.

I don’t know what to think
of anything at all.
But I will think and think and think,
until I smash into a wall.

Today began with nerves,
the night ends with a smile.
I cannot predict the future,
but it seems I have some luck,
because the night ends with a hug.

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What the hell am I s’posed to do?

Along with my poetry, I’ve posted some song lyrics that I’ve written. But I feel like it doesn’t translate as well when it’s meant for music. The words do not always carry the natural rhythm–sometimes it’s something that’s in the music.

So instead I’ve decided to post a video of me playing the song. This is a song I wrote called “What the hell am I s’posed to do?” The lyrics are below the video.


I’m scared to death that everything’s a lie.
I’m scared to find out that you don’t control my life.
I’m scared to hell that heaven’s in your eyes.
I’m tired of being scared ’cause it’s running out my life.

I look at you and you say,
“What the hell am I s’posed to do?

I will be your hell hound when you die.
I’ll be sleeping in that hole behind your eyes.
I’ll be running until everything’s alright.
I’ll keep running till I reach the fucking sky.

I look at you and you say,
“What the hell am I s’posed to do?”
When I woke up you said,
“I will run away from you.”

I look at you and you say,
“What the hell am I s’posed to do?”
When I woke up you said,
“I will run away from you.”

Oh, what the hell am I s’posed to do?

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