Wednesday, June 24, 2009

your ______

a note from the hack...I don't know where this little ray of light came from. please bear with me as I get it the hell out of my writing. my bad.


stand on the plain
look out at the horizon
pretend for one minute
that you aren't the center
of the universe

there
can you see it?
way off in the distance
you can just make out
your ______ slipping away

it could be anything, really
come to think of it
it's everything
all you hold dear and protect
it's right in front of you
slipping away
you watch it go
too paralyzed
with fear
to move
your dreams, your aspirations
(remember those?)
you watch them drift away
they won't come back

you must follow them
give chase
never let them out of your sight
they are fickle, hard to seize
even harder to realize

I shouldn't preach
my dreams need GPS
they get so far ahead of me
it seems I'll never keep up
but I know where they are
what they smell like
in the morning after coffee
how they taste after a long day
I don't need rose colored lenses
to see their beauty
it's distant, shimmering
but it's obvious
it shines like a sunrise
blinding me (now I see)
I could tell you what I see
you wouldn't understand
we don't have the same ______


Thursday, June 18, 2009

polysyllabic



rant and rave
talk 'til you're blue in the face
scream at the top of your lungs
I can't hear you
your ego and your attitude
always talking over you
your self-righteousness makin' a racket
your absolution arguing your innocence
when you speak I shudder
I used to hear angels, soft and high
the voices have become a cacophony
a pitch found only on dantes pages
I guess I never understood
I thought you were the truth
all that was good in a world gone rotten
I was naive (I loved you)
and more than a little gullible
why not help me make sense
of the words you use
the case you make
why didn't you just
stop and
talk
?


Monday, June 8, 2009

automatic



"this is the life, this is the ground
here comes the warm machine" *

I was told when I was younger
and things made more sense
that if you want to affect the reader
write as though you're speaking to them
for so long this made perfect sense
but over time (God, it seems like eons)
my thoughts became fragmented
easily spoken, seldom understood
fragments
writing became a string of thoughts
line after line,
pieces of mind
sadly, unless you know me
these pieces don't/won't fit
you don't understand!
the pauses get longer and longer
the inflections ever more profound
as you search for the words
to complete a thought...
but never entirely
because just as a voice needs an ear
a thought needs inspiration
the idea that something
could be more than it appears
(more than meets the eye)
that it bears looking into, checking out
what inspires you?
inspiration is an homage to hope
use it or lose it people
hope...faith.......trust................?
so as you read these lines I write
and you try to make sense of the chaos
the graffiti covered walls of my mens room
look, to understand my rant
you need to get close to hear the (whisper)

this is where the juicy stuff is
I'm not speaking in tongues
(am I?)
if you don't know the dialect
the meaning can be lost
in translation
so get down here...real close....closer still
that's it
I can feel your breath on my neck
so sexy
can you hear me now?
good
I wish you would listen
I need you to feel (me)
let's break it down...

(watch your step)

these words come at a cost
a price I'll gladly pay
(how much to cross the river, sir?)
nothing else in my life is
automatic


* from the song "Warm Machine", by Bush