Words

How many words have you talked out so far?
In 30 short years they might cover up Mars.
The, "How do you do's?" and "How has it been's?"
could travel to China and come back again.
And how many of them were hollow inside,
to keep time a'passin and let byes go on by?
Did you dare to let out the ones you kept close?
The true ones, the love ones--the ones scared you most?
If your heart's filled with words and swellin' with pain,
Talk out the words and make yourself sane.

I'd Rather Not

I'd rather not watch my head get shinier
and I'd rather not look on my father's livered arms.
I'd rather not think those thoughts on the edge of sleep
and I'd rather not know my Gran is on the edge of death.
I'd rather not see that the world is run by thieves,
and I'd like to blot out that I'll never understand.
I'd die not to know why I can't blind your heart
and I'd die twice as hard to forget your heart once was mine.
It would be rather nice to delete all I've learned
and lie ignorant in fields of dark chirping grass.
I'd be rather content if once I hadn't been young
and was never seduced by earthy rhythms sweet,
But I am and I did and we were and it is and you are;
At least it all ends, my patience only stretches so far.

Turin Breaks

If things get real I promise to tell you its all fake
The gestures and genuflects are all planned mistakes
By the time fear takes you over I'll be making my escape
inside of a bottle where its warm and I wait.

Master Debaters

I love a good debate, or Mind Sport, as some like to call it. Muslims and Hindus, Christians and Jews, Democrats and Republicans, Atheists and the faithful, Gushers and Fruit By the Foot...the list goes on and on. Whatever the rift may be, I like to see it settled in the intellectual six sided ring of fire, no holds bar, to the death. As with any sport, I want to see the pinnacle of what it has to offer. And by pinnacle, I mean the debate that would have the most entertainment value, be the most hilarious. So, I propose we bring together a panel of hardcore drinkers and a panel of hardcore weed smoker, endow them with a limitless supply of their weapons of choice, give them a topic and let the comedy ensue. If this isn't the perfect pilot for the 1 A.M. Saturday Comedy Central slot I don't know what is. My question to you, my non-existent readers, is what should that topic be? At the moment I am both drunk and stoned and thus an impartial juror. Make the decision for and hurry the fuck up before I become distracted by some other ridiculous and pointless quandary.

Unholy Sonnet II

Try never to get caught in a lie to yourself
If you like being the picture of perfect mental health.
The invisible fib that you've built your house on
Will vanish the moment you call it in question
And down will come house with its roof laid in dreams.
The hearts of your babies will be gouged out by beams.
Crumpled in rubble you'll struggle to move
To piece back together your house of untruth.
But, what will you stitch your shack upon now
That your face has grown ugly and your God's out of town?
May I venture forth a firm basement floor,
Or some lies that I like for strong basement walls?
When know-it-all strangers ask what I stand for
I tell them, "Knowledge is power and love conquers all."

Whoops?

Dutiful Dad once told me, "Make good habits because bad ones are hard to break.",
But I was sixteen and my ears were turned inside out.
So I shrugged off the angst with cheap hot beer and speedingcarswithmyheadhungout
And stayed up late huffing vodka fumes with a clean homework slate.

Nights now are lived with my one eye closed; moved by the sounds
of crackling aluminum and the sizzle of leaves in stale beer.
A cacophonous collage which propels me the direction: down,
But drowned out by notes strumming burnt heart strings of yesteryear.

And what am I to do against this mounting wave of tainted self?
Whose shadow I've ignored to smile and slobber at the sun.
Yes, I should turn about to bear the brunt of the things I've done,
ignore the leaping in my blood begging me to be marooned in Hell.

Oh well...

Stop Talking.

I talked a lot tonight, of things I knew and things I didn't.
I wanted to be looked well on, not some antiquated fool.
The men towered above me and the women spoke above me
And though they mouthed in grand terms and in important tones
Nothing I heard sparked a flame in my heart, it was all shit.