original works of parts
The Grandeur
someNever did I lie,
never did I I ever and ever
start as one. Spit a few
and make curfew
I had another to make
a few others to lamb make
but could it be that the game was on us?
One timers'
old timers
get timely, old shimely
things rhymly, words that start sharply
made up old school, whine lightly,
sometimes old things rhightly
one two tooth things
old things
new things
body fix, bidy fix,'
Did yo u e er y es.
The Ghost Mission
Wandering is a bad word.
Searching too.
Walking
is under appreciated.
You've seen me before
at odd hours, know it or
up to nothing in particular.
The man inside the hat, rain or shine.
Say hello. Strike
conversation.
We've places to be and things to new,
not really. That is a beautiful umbrella.
Her bag was full,
but did not break despite corners and weights,
measures of. Big plans. He tripped
on the iron caps of gasoline tank feed caps and
hex
bolts on his way toward
overdrawn ATM slips.
I've not got a light tonight. Sorry, hon'.
You've caught me in the middle of an operation.
Bad timing, but I will apologize last and
tip my imaginary hat
with real fingers and whistle out
the last lines of the song your heart sang
out of respect before I walk into the rain.
The meeting, that one, was nice.
All the best to you
or something like that.
Searching too.
Walking
is under appreciated.
You've seen me before
at odd hours, know it or
up to nothing in particular.
The man inside the hat, rain or shine.
Say hello. Strike
conversation.
We've places to be and things to new,
not really. That is a beautiful umbrella.
Her bag was full,
but did not break despite corners and weights,
measures of. Big plans. He tripped
on the iron caps of gasoline tank feed caps and
hex
bolts on his way toward
overdrawn ATM slips.
I've not got a light tonight. Sorry, hon'.
You've caught me in the middle of an operation.
Bad timing, but I will apologize last and
tip my imaginary hat
with real fingers and whistle out
the last lines of the song your heart sang
out of respect before I walk into the rain.
The meeting, that one, was nice.
All the best to you
or something like that.
Hot Ears
There is a thing to be said over the heat
felt along the neck
that creeps up crossed against
the back of the head.
Fans against the backs of the ears,
blooming into fingertips.
The heat that says
plus one
please.
felt along the neck
that creeps up crossed against
the back of the head.
Fans against the backs of the ears,
blooming into fingertips.
The heat that says
plus one
please.
Ode to Havoc
You can take this fortress but my heart is still in space.
You can decimate my body but my mind will stay unchained.
You don't want my words, but you wish a smile on my face.
You don't want memory, but you want to love the place.
My eyes in your palm, but in them there is no gaze.
Someone once told me I was not so cruel.
Someone once told me I was God's white hot tool.
In the pool of where ends make means
and every last fish is what makes a school,
I was happy to wear a face, more than happy
to play a fool. And I still do/am what I am want to do.
I cannot always speak for me and you know
I cannot speak for you. What I am
is a collection, poured gasoline on a lid.
What I am is a thought and a becoming bid.
I am not a man, but I am also not a kid.
A fat lip and black eye and no one did
to the "whodunnit" for as long as I live.
There were shootouts in other states,
cues at the pearly gates,
all I could think was what I would have for dinner.
I guess some of us are angels and some of us
are bleeding hearts. Some of us are
chicken shit and some of us are detached parts.
Maladjusted comes up too much
and makes me change gears.
I can take away your doubts,
but I can't take away your fears.
We've gotten too close, but I can't erase
what's near. You will still be you and I will steel
my heart. You will still be you and
I will still be me. I will stay away
where the dark begins and you can have your say.
There is no rewriting, no real artistry
to learning to love red and gold leaves
blown across concrete.
I don't know you anymore
than you will ever know me.
Weather comes and bad weather goes,
but the weathermen do what needs.
You made a war fighter out of a farmer
whose heart will blood red bleed.
The engine will run
until there's no more to feed.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
I've a back pocket lighter.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
I saw nothing on the corner.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
the caucus is in session.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
with wider eyes.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
the stars are out tonight.
You can decimate my body but my mind will stay unchained.
You don't want my words, but you wish a smile on my face.
You don't want memory, but you want to love the place.
My eyes in your palm, but in them there is no gaze.
Someone once told me I was not so cruel.
Someone once told me I was God's white hot tool.
In the pool of where ends make means
and every last fish is what makes a school,
I was happy to wear a face, more than happy
to play a fool. And I still do/am what I am want to do.
I cannot always speak for me and you know
I cannot speak for you. What I am
is a collection, poured gasoline on a lid.
What I am is a thought and a becoming bid.
I am not a man, but I am also not a kid.
A fat lip and black eye and no one did
to the "whodunnit" for as long as I live.
There were shootouts in other states,
cues at the pearly gates,
all I could think was what I would have for dinner.
I guess some of us are angels and some of us
are bleeding hearts. Some of us are
chicken shit and some of us are detached parts.
Maladjusted comes up too much
and makes me change gears.
I can take away your doubts,
but I can't take away your fears.
We've gotten too close, but I can't erase
what's near. You will still be you and I will steel
my heart. You will still be you and
I will still be me. I will stay away
where the dark begins and you can have your say.
There is no rewriting, no real artistry
to learning to love red and gold leaves
blown across concrete.
I don't know you anymore
than you will ever know me.
Weather comes and bad weather goes,
but the weathermen do what needs.
You made a war fighter out of a farmer
whose heart will blood red bleed.
The engine will run
until there's no more to feed.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
I've a back pocket lighter.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
I saw nothing on the corner.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
the caucus is in session.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
with wider eyes.
Pour this gasoline on your lid,
the stars are out tonight.
Little Time
The thermos is steaming.
Shared stories of others go
fast like the westward clouds
above the house, lights too bright,
then too dark, telling by night wink
moon light, and in this house,
with walls like a sieve, it is good
to know the wind is not interested
in low lines and winding drives.
The thermos is steaming,
central heating off because chapped lips
are no one's bag. Time is small,
thoughts large. Simple and bragging
other days into sculptures. A museum
begins as talk catches.
Lounging in lion arms,
Roman crowns, Greek wonders,
snow flecked "I thought you died"s
and spectacle adjustment worthy blunders.
The thermos is still steaming.
Bread broken in the mean times,
the good times too. Where did the day go?
Tomorrow is beautiful, a blind date and stat
sheet. Underneath, the little times
spent.
Shared stories of others go
fast like the westward clouds
above the house, lights too bright,
then too dark, telling by night wink
moon light, and in this house,
with walls like a sieve, it is good
to know the wind is not interested
in low lines and winding drives.
The thermos is steaming,
central heating off because chapped lips
are no one's bag. Time is small,
thoughts large. Simple and bragging
other days into sculptures. A museum
begins as talk catches.
Lounging in lion arms,
Roman crowns, Greek wonders,
snow flecked "I thought you died"s
and spectacle adjustment worthy blunders.
The thermos is still steaming.
Bread broken in the mean times,
the good times too. Where did the day go?
Tomorrow is beautiful, a blind date and stat
sheet. Underneath, the little times
spent.
This One Goes Out to the Sparrows and the Butchers
(this song is dedicated to every friend in low places)
You can kill a verse, but you can't kill the universe.
You can kill a time, but you can't kill it every way.
You can kill a few seconds, but you can't kill "everydays".
Sometimes people fuck with you
but you have to learn how to play.
Play the game better, a little better and they will say
he lived hard, but he lived well. He had some moments
but they had theirs as well. Time can tell
the better definition of what it all means,
sometimes years away makes it all seem
a little more accessible, a little more streamed
a little more balanced, a little less screamed.
After you're all there's a little more me
in the puddle on the floor and the moth
on the screen. There's a little less rattle,
a little less shake, a little more roll,
a little more to take.
Memoirs in rhyme and verse a little less earthquake.
We had a time to sit down and it was not time to take.
Sometimes is the name of a song no one likes to sing.
If we ever did, I hoped we had a thing.
There was nothing, in talking, that I thought I couldn't bring.
But now I know that there were and there are
and now I know you better.
I know you, your score, and your scar.
You can kill a verse, but you can't kill the universe.
You can kill a time, but you can't kill it every way.
You can kill a few seconds, but you can't kill "everydays".
Sometimes people fuck with you
but you have to learn how to play.
Play the game better, a little better and they will say
he lived hard, but he lived well. He had some moments
but they had theirs as well. Time can tell
the better definition of what it all means,
sometimes years away makes it all seem
a little more accessible, a little more streamed
a little more balanced, a little less screamed.
After you're all there's a little more me
in the puddle on the floor and the moth
on the screen. There's a little less rattle,
a little less shake, a little more roll,
a little more to take.
Memoirs in rhyme and verse a little less earthquake.
We had a time to sit down and it was not time to take.
Sometimes is the name of a song no one likes to sing.
If we ever did, I hoped we had a thing.
There was nothing, in talking, that I thought I couldn't bring.
But now I know that there were and there are
and now I know you better.
I know you, your score, and your scar.
Holiday 9 (return of the painted dinosaur) EP
The Valley of Light
Sunshine never looked so good
on its best day in its "going out" clothes
where the hills fall into the highway.
Snow melts because it has to
along the dashes and double yellows and the crush of
tires and star light slows everything down.
The clouds cast it back
pocket change to cups,
all of it a little homeless.
Staring at the tach and the glitter,
headlights out for a while,
the trees are starting to sing, scarved in white tonight.
Dread Not (the code)
"I look after you,
you bet your ass
you better be
looking after me."
The phone rings and I am asleep
talking to you. The phone rings again
and I am out of bed and on my saddle
looking for "the spot I know" between the tracks and trees,
still sleeping while I kick the pedals
to get where the getting is good and by the time
my consciousness decides to rise everything's gone and
everyone's there
in good spirit, but I brought my own and
home is where the hearth is,
bonfired and inspired by a thing as simple as
a time of year.
Spitting distance to the river,
laid back on
railroad rocks and backpacks for pillows
eyes night
it is good to be near you. Everyone else
the bonus.
A beat machine on a handheld
kicks up the way I know you and you know me
by smell. Teeth spread in the star eyed sky
like blue glow sticks and we,
for a few more minutes, cash in karma points
before the new year sets,
talking about the fishing licenses
we will never get and who won what
long bet set last January and
the river is crystal clear before us.
Begging a stone to be skipped.
"I look after you,
you look after me."
We skate a little bit.
Tonight is special,
the definition of
an exception.
The Toast Never Said
All I want in this new year
is peace on Earth
even if I have to kill
every last motherfucker
on this God damned planet
to get it.
Super Easy (stick the landing)
Catching snowflakes with a tongue
is an art.
It is cold outside. It is cold inside.
What else is new.
The sledding has been
a joy.
Laughing like this years before.
Disposable cameras
were the rage. Snowballs still
make the same sound.
Everything changed and nothing.
Watching it all fall down.
Do not be so
whatever it is called.
Hearts are
doing what they do.
Along the expanse of drift covered parking lot,
street lights and all,
there is space to dream between flakes of snowfall.
Sunshine never looked so good
on its best day in its "going out" clothes
where the hills fall into the highway.
Snow melts because it has to
along the dashes and double yellows and the crush of
tires and star light slows everything down.
The clouds cast it back
pocket change to cups,
all of it a little homeless.
Staring at the tach and the glitter,
headlights out for a while,
the trees are starting to sing, scarved in white tonight.
Dread Not (the code)
"I look after you,
you bet your ass
you better be
looking after me."
The phone rings and I am asleep
talking to you. The phone rings again
and I am out of bed and on my saddle
looking for "the spot I know" between the tracks and trees,
still sleeping while I kick the pedals
to get where the getting is good and by the time
my consciousness decides to rise everything's gone and
everyone's there
in good spirit, but I brought my own and
home is where the hearth is,
bonfired and inspired by a thing as simple as
a time of year.
Spitting distance to the river,
laid back on
railroad rocks and backpacks for pillows
eyes night
it is good to be near you. Everyone else
the bonus.
A beat machine on a handheld
kicks up the way I know you and you know me
by smell. Teeth spread in the star eyed sky
like blue glow sticks and we,
for a few more minutes, cash in karma points
before the new year sets,
talking about the fishing licenses
we will never get and who won what
long bet set last January and
the river is crystal clear before us.
Begging a stone to be skipped.
"I look after you,
you look after me."
We skate a little bit.
Tonight is special,
the definition of
an exception.
The Toast Never Said
All I want in this new year
is peace on Earth
even if I have to kill
every last motherfucker
on this God damned planet
to get it.
Super Easy (stick the landing)
Catching snowflakes with a tongue
is an art.
It is cold outside. It is cold inside.
What else is new.
The sledding has been
a joy.
Laughing like this years before.
Disposable cameras
were the rage. Snowballs still
make the same sound.
Everything changed and nothing.
Watching it all fall down.
Do not be so
whatever it is called.
Hearts are
doing what they do.
Along the expanse of drift covered parking lot,
street lights and all,
there is space to dream between flakes of snowfall.
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