Breakfast In Bed

I think the reason I have this blog is the need for an outlet for the emotions and experiences I feel are impossible to lay on even the closest of friends.

The sentiments I capture here are born from the darkest, deepest, most embarrassing and troubling parts of my conscious thoughts.

And, to be honest, they are pretty fucking depressing.

So I'd like to discuss one of life's forgotten, but most sinfully delicious moments: breakfast in mufuckin bed. How does life get any sweeter? How!? Someone that obviously loves you very much has taken it upon themselves to wake up before you, only to quietly create a delicious day making meal andl present it to you the moment you awake from some sweet, loving dream.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

We do not deserve these moments in life, none of us! Yet, they happen to us and some how we are unable to savor and cherish them forever. We get caught up in ourselves and get depressed and hopeless, all the while forgetting that someone, sometime, thought enough of us to make us breakfast in bed.

And with any luck, we' might love someone enough to wake up so early.

Some Nights

Some nights I am calm and read before bed,
Most others I rage and t-bone my head;
For reasons I have yet to understand
I silence my brain before I darken my nightstand.
Is it because my sails are sagging unbattered
By blue windy passions that blow forward and backward?
Is it because I perceive no certain direction
To rig my sails for which might blow me to heaven?
Or is it some chink down deep in my armor
Undetected by pride and leading to slaughter?

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."