Clockwork Hearts

In the blink of an eye
we come face to face
with the ticking hands
that cannot grasp the sands
falling through the hourglass.

In the time it takes us
to see
that some things will always be the same
so much more has changed
that it all feels
like a matter of perspective
more than evolution.

A Moment in the Life of a Last Goodbye.

As I escaped his grasp
I almost couldn't squeeze
through the iron curtain.

His teeth wanted to sabotage
his tongue wanted to obey
his mind wanted to go
his heart

beat in syncopated rhythm
to the raindrops
ripped from the thunderclouds
on a moonless night.

Baby, baby. . .won't you come inside?
It's cold out here
and there's a story in your eyes
with ink spilling from the corners.

As I formed on a stiff breeze
come flying by in the darkness
I knew that I was flash in the pan
transient waves
that don't even extend the length of their fingers.

There is energy in parting
saccharine sorrow sewn into the splitting sides
of thunderheads.
Said the lightning bolt to the gust,
"and we wonder why life is a comedy of errors?"
If only you could see the world as I do

you could understand the bursting laughter
of the falsities spoken into stormy nights.
They have put an end to more beautiful dusks
than I care to count
taking destruction
cold, pain
masking it as beauty
it is afraid of me.

Maybe I have seen its true face
etched into a raindrop
by their feet

Baby, baby, won't you come inside?
it's cold out here and I wonder,
what was the use of crying?

I don't want to leave
the sanctuary
of thoughts without being.
But how things have to be
is how they have the be
floating into the space between
the parted clouds
of their palms, I wonder:
what would this storm be like if I'd never been born?

I asked her what I sounded like.

She kissed him,
and the lightning struck,
and she walked away.

Pinball Wizard

Deaf, dumb and blind boy
plays flippers as if his wrists
were replaced with God's.
He touched my heart and healed it,
with those hands, of a wizard.

The World's Strongest Man

The weights collect dust
in the corner.
A sign hangs off of one nail
at the door, border
bound by decrepit paint
chips into oblivion
as the water falling through
cracks in the ceiling
drips at the rhythm or mortality.

Recently
waxing and waning phases
of masculinity
have found the gym fading
fading, faded.
Forever young memories
set between bent syringes
and burst pipe-dreams
have let the machines rust
rot
remind us
that nothing is forever,

but old habits leave brains
faster than muscles leave limbs.

Mother's Day.

She may never know
that she inspires the fireflies
tucked beneath my sternum.

He may never look in the mirror
and see the wind beneath my wings
staring back at him.

These dreams
sit on a coffee table
in my living room
under a halo from a floor lamp
and light my words like a brighter tomorrow.
My parents are not muses.

They don’t even like poetry that much.

But for every thousand words I pour onto a page,
I see there eyes, and remember where I come from.

Ever Easy

Nothing worth having is ever easy. So then, are easy to obtain things worthless?

Let the Muses Loose.

"Limousines and sycophants,
don't leave now,
'cause I'm afraid
what you've done to me
is now the wolf in my bed."

-Seal

What is it about a good lyric that can lead to great amounts of thought on any subject? I tried asking that question and got no real answer. I also tried writing lyrics and that was a terrible, pointless endeavor (don't ask me why; just not my forte I suppose).

I admit, sometimes I'm very afraid to step out of my comfort zone. I think this becomes obvious when I perform. Just for the amusement of whoever may be reading this (peace and blessings to you), this is a video of my first performance:




Nerves: they're what's for dinner.

At any rate, I say all that to ask this: what have you done to make yourself uncomfortable lately? Have you written something in a style you didn't think possible? Did you talk to that girl/guy you've been crushing on for years but you didn't know what to say but the timing was never right but she has a boyfriend. . .

OK, that was a little personal. But seriously, try something new. The muse resting in your brain will appreciate it. They get bored easily, you know.