Rooms

The strangeness of letting go,

We always say it’s difficult

It seems the older I get

The less arranged it is

People are ripped from us in the night

We don’t get to say good bye

We don’t get to make sure they are ok…

The strangeness of letting go

we fight so hard every day just to stay …

While nothing in this room is permanent …

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Paper Fences

And this is just where I came in

Our cities burning

Broken words

Defined by the way we were

Filling the skies

But right now we are

Paper white picket fences

uptown state

Just dreams held on to

so far out

off sight

Tucked away

We both know

The lies we tell

The day we make

The pain we take

The bad bill we have to pay

Put off till another day

What kind of life is –

What kind of lie is –

What kind of love

Is this?

Would you stay with me,

If I told you the truth

Would you be a little bit closer

Oh I would be here for you

I would that I could

Get close to you

And

She says

She knows

You carry yourself

She says

She knows

He says

He pays the price

They both get theirs

Out of site

Out of mind

And she says

How can you choose what stays and what we give away?

The revelation

For any paradise …utopia

There must be a final solution

For all of us misfits

Outcast

Cut-off

Paper white picket fences

Caught in the wind and rain

She hears the drums

Drumming out

She plays her soul out loud

In the daylight

Too late for repeal

Too fast for dreaming

It’s time for freedom

It’s time for soul

It’s time to shake it out

She’s cast her chains to the ground

Oh sunrise

The tide is coming in

Oh life

The earth is breathing now

I would

That I could

Get close to you…

The importance of being Idle

I wonder what the courtroom felt like , when Ted Bundy cross examined the officers that arrived on the scene? When he had them recount in every detail, what they found and what they did?

Sure, we know, now…

Now,we have television and crime dramas and countless other murders…

But did they know then, they were watching a murderer, relish in his crime?

That this, was a new kind of evil?

It wasn’t just in their courtroom

It was in their brothers, their co-workers, it was in the stigma we put on mental illness, it was in the constant ways we refuse to see it, to learn about it. In the fact that they thought they had a decent man that could never commit these crimes…who argued with the court and the judge, who acted out, and constantly changed his moods…

When did they realize they would have to learn from this…

I wonder how many of us linger on the edge of madness

Maybe it’s the chill from the judge

As he says he is sentenced to death, and he is truly sorry. But he wasted his life.

Maybe we all are narcissist …

Maybe we all will be judged.

Maybe we all waste our lives to some degree…

What did we do with our creativity

What did we do with what we have?

Maybe there is a higher Deity

Maybe there is just an empty street…

With an empty house

And it’s just a room to read in…

Or maybe it’s the bar from the Shining ….

Maybe none of us know…

Maybe the only sure thing is the Vibrator in a wife’s bedside table

And the two out of three sociopaths we pass in the street…

Maybe that was the horror.

The fact that this could have been any of us.

Maybe it wasn’t who was standing there,

But the fact that you could see all the pieces of people you knew…

This could be any of us…

With just a little push…

The Times (Bleeding Ink 1,245)

They say

The times are changing…

Underneath this sky,

Sometimes I feel older than time

Storm clouds have always been in the background, here,

The train still stalls

Still takes its time

The clouds hang in the sky

But when does the wind ever rise?

Who poured my coffee,

Who slept by the sea,

Who is this face in the mirror staring back at me?

When will my past stop haunting,

This nameless shadow

Moving the furniture

In empty rooms

Occupying corners of my mind…

Who were we back then,

And when did we finish becoming?

Does it ever let go…

Do you still love me,

Is regret on your mind?

Pour the drinks

Set the mood in your eyes

When did we get so busy

When did we stop pursuing each other …

Every day it’s a new News story

New America

New sunrise

Why can’t we change as well…

Does it ever let go…

This feeling

We all want to rhyme

We all want to write

But we never make the time…

Maybe …

These people believe

And believe

To believe

Love to believe

And

Maybe I don’t really want to know …

I’m not holding the answer

I’m just staring at your window

Your picture’s on my phone

Listen,

She’s

Like the first snow

And

My heart slows

I forget to breathe

Every time I see

Her

And maybe we –

Will always be suspended in this time-

Everyone is in the crush – rush- but –

She takes me back

Everything in the room fades

Back to when

Nobody wants to be famous

We all keep the time

The internet is just another black hole

In the back of someone’s mind

And the names we know

They all paid their dues

You know, they broke through…

They worked overtime…

Here we are

Is anything the same?

We cut ties

We buried bodies

We moved in and moved on

We want a stage for whatever we feel…

I had a nightmare

All I could do was plagiarize

I woke up

Slow it down

She slows it down…

Tomorrow is waiting for you

Who dug a hole in the earth

For you to fill with your tired mind

Soon the stars

Will be in the quilted sky

The moon is still constant

The tides will rise

Washing your soul clean

And carry your dreams back home

I love to love her…

I think I will be trying to win her

For all of my tomorrows

They say

The times are changing

But like Dylan said …

I was older then, I’m younger than that now…

Ashes

The piano was more difficult to play now, certain chords would go missing….

The same with photographs. Some faces were familiar…others were blackened with ash and she didn’t know them…

Some days she felt like everything was good. She really had a hold on things.

Other days, she would be given a journal

And expected to write…

But the pages were burning

The words were missing…

The safest place was the window on those days.

To just sit and look outside….

She could remember some things…

But it was all the new faces that frightened her.

The new town….

Other days she would work on her next detective novel…

But she always felt, trapped,inside a burning house

And couldn’t shake the feeling,time was running out.

But then, she had felt like this since her early twenties.

Now she was…she was…

Photographs

Just as time will fade the paint on the corners of the front steps, chip the glass on the coffee cup, Slowly dry the ink in the pen, slowly age the man.

It will slowly chip away at love.

Tough words or tired bodies when we were young, we used to say everyone else just settles….

Now we barely talk anymore

Somehow we don’t even look at each other and it’s just okay.

For days on end we pass each other without anything other than a silent resentment.

When do you know you’re reading from a script that’s killed you off?

Occupying a movie set that’s packed and left…

Does her mind know, or is it her heart?

Does he know? Or is he so far removed that he believes everything is fine

At status quo

What’s the point of signaling a flare

You’re like two ghosts haunting the same house in different centuries

There’s nothing here anymore

It’s all cold

It’s all empty

And no one knows why..

Any cold drafts are blamed on the weather…