Some days have no beginning

And some days have no end
Some roads are straight and narrow
And some roads only bend
So let us say a prayer
For every living thing
Walking towards a light
From the cross of a king
We long to be a picture of Jesus
In his arms, in his arms so many prayers rest
I long to be a picture of Jesus
With him we shall be forever blessed

evermore

you sit with a thousand suns smiling
their fuchsia smiles and
their scarlet begonia jingle jangle
effervescence, leaning into lilac
shadows the ground as purple eases you
feel the day floating into
gold

the earth scatters its soul
as a fledgling secret catches cascading
light through the unfiltered skyline
sparkling, so near the summit
of double delight blooming full and
peace dripping from every bud
in idyllic spring

I sit and think of a day where time
loses track of itself
and each moment parades by with eternity
in toe, and I can’t help
but wonder in wondrous pastures where
there is a line of poppies forever
ascending the mountain or molehill
I wait for

GET THIS

Hollow

Emptiness bites through the skin deep mask
That we all wear but swear doesn’t exist
Pain collides head on with the truth
That no façade can dispel to the wind;
Where there once was gaiety and frivolous joy
There now resides a pitiful cry
An aching desire that moans in the night
And sails the waves of despair in the day;
A cold and useless derivative view
Garnered in safekeeping for times like these
When the undertow sucks its prey to the depths
Engulfing the helpless in a haze of damage;
There is nothing left throughout ground or sky
But Nothing remains when all else goes to die

Memoirs

I lean my head over the edge and look
There’s nothing here I haven’t seen
in a book,
I’m just watching myself go by
A silhouette against the frail clouds
In the sky,
Watching till the day I die.
When the sun shines down it feels like a dream
As a lonesome pinecone sails
Downstream,
I wish to see your face if only in the sky
Regretting that one day I forgot
To say goodbye,
Wishing till the day I die.
The brilliance and gleam so blazingly pure
Displaced by the ripples riding
A wave of fear,
Waiting for peace so hopelessly high
It costs too much for the mighty
Kings to buy,
Waiting till the day I die.
It’s time to set off and start something new
The same tired images grow cold
With the view,
Wandering somewhere I close my eyes
It seems more real than this world
Living a lie,
Wandering till the day I die.

I give thee all, I can no more

I'll tell thee everything i can:
there's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
a-sitting on a gate.
'Who are you, aged man?' I said.
'And how is it you live?'
And his answer trickled through my head
like water through a sieve.

He said 'I look for butterflies
that sleep among the wheat:
i make them into mutton-pies,
and sell them in the street.
I sell them unto men,' he said,
'who sail on stormy seas;
and that's the way i get my bread-
a trifle, if you please.'

But i was thinking of a plan
to dye one's whiskers green,
and always use so large a fan
that they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
to what the old man said,
I cried 'come, tell me how you live!'
and thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:
he said 'I go my ways,
and when i find a mountain-rill,
i set in a blaze;
and thence they make a stuff they call
Rolands' Macassar Oil-
Yet two pence-half penny is all
they give me for my toil.'

But i was thinking of a way
to feed oneself on batter,
and so go on from day to day
getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
until his face was blue:
'Come, tell me how you live,' I cried,
'And what is it you do!'

He said 'I hunt for haddocks' eyes
among the heather bright,
and work them into waistcoat-buttons
in the silent night.
And these i do not sell for gold
or coin of silvery shine
but for a copper half penny,
and that will purchase nine.

'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,
or set limed twigs for crabs:
i sometimes search the grassy knolls
for wheels of Hansom-cabs.
And that's the way' (he gave a wink)
'by which i get my wealth-
and very gladly will i drink
your Honor's noble health.'

I heard him then, for i had just
completed my design
to keep the Menai bridge from rust
by boiling it in the wine.
I thanked him much for telling me
the way he got his wealth,
but chiefly for his wish that he
might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance i put
my fingers into glue
or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
into a left-hand shoe,
or if i drop upon my toe
a very heavy weight,
i weep, for it reminds me so,
of that old man i used to know-

Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow,
whose hair was whiter than the snow,
whose face was very like a crow,
with eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
who seemed distracted with his woe,
who rocked his body to and fro,
and muttered mumblingly and low,
as if his mouth were full of dough,
who snorted like a buffalo-
That summer evening, long ago,
A-sitting on a gate.'

Waking Up From Reality

A new start playing the same tired clown
He knows more than he lets on, but this time
It’s for keeps, and this time he’s not
Fucking around.
This is some deep shit you got yourself into
And wading through it is harder on the lungs
Than your pathetic arms are worth,
Because,
They’re not worth a damn thing.
You run faster and faster and breathe
Harder and harder and cough
Louder and louder and lie to yourself
Again and again and again and
You forget why.
The clock always jokes around with you
Playing tricks for sleepy eyes and
Forgetful memories until they’re forced to come to..
Some realization..
Fading..Out of..
Con scious n e s s

And back in damn it!!
Why can’t I stay in Neverland?
On morphine??
On anything???

On a regular basis
You make fun of yourself, only,
You don’t mean to, and
Of course it’s okay
It’s just the way the medication makes you.
We’re all gonna die don’t you know
Or didn’t you get the memo?
‘Aren’t we already dead? I thought
We were dead!’
Don’t kid yourself you clown,
You’re such a clown,
Always clowning around
Until the funhouse mirrors in your bathroom
Scare the makeup off your chest.

And getting that off your chest
Didn’t feel as good as you thought
It would. The clock told you right,
But it was three o’clock..
In the morning
And sitting down at the head of the table
Doesn’t mean so much if it’s empty,
Neither does the glass of water
Nor the bottle of whisky
The sleeping pills
The pain pills
Diet pills
And,
Finally, no more bitter pills left to swallow
Not even any first-rate vitamin C
To choke on,
But the sun rises another day
Before the last one has set.
A glass of orange juice will have do,
And now it’s time
To wake up and live!
The dream

swingin'

Hangman, hangman, hold it a little while
Think I see my friends coming, Riding a many mile.
Friends, did you get a little silver? Did you get a little gold?
What did you bring me, my dear friends, To keep me from the gallows pole?
What did you bring me to keep me from the gallows pole?

I couldnt get no silver, I couldnt get no gold,
You know that were too damn poor To keep you from the gallows pole.

Hangman, hangman, hold it a little while
I think I see my brother coming, Riding a many mile.
Brother, did you get me some silver? Did you get a little gold?
What did you bring me, my brother, To keep me from the gallows pole?

Brother, I brought you some silver, I brought a little gold
I brought a little of everything To keep you from the gallows pole.
Yes, I brought you to keep you from the gallows pole.

Hangman, hangman, turn your head awhile
I think I see my sister coming, Riding a many mile, mile, mile, mile, mile.
Sister, I implore you, take him by the hand
Take him to some shady bower, Save me from the wrath of this man
Please take him, Save me from the wrath of this man, man.

Hangman, hangman, upon your face a smile
Pray tell me that Im free to ride, Ride for many mile, mile, mile.

Oh, yes, you got a fine sister, She warmed my blood from cold
Brought my face to boiling hot To keep you from the gallows pole
Your brother brought me silver, Your sister warmed my soul
But now I laugh and pull so hard And see you swinging on the gallows pole