Tag Archives: cool

Now I am mostly tired

I don’t miss anyone who walked away
I don’t believe in miracles anymore

I caught my soul on a crescent moon
And I tugged a little harder than I should have

I was strong – until I wasn’t
Now I am mostly tired

Standing alone amongst the smoldering embers
An absurd superhero in a black and white melodrama

Standing along amongst the smoldering embers
Another long lost hot dog forgotten on a holiday grill

I am standing here with my chin up
And my finger in the air like I just don’t care

I just don’t care is the lie
I just keep selling to myself

The Summer Began

The summer began with a cool breeze
It made her uncomfortable and cautious
She dressed in layers of many different colors
She took his hand and they walked into the summer
Cautious and many layered waiting to see what was next

Across the Road

It was hardly a silent night when the pregnant crystal snowflakes fell about – between the moonbeams and streetlights. Each descending its own path of least resistance – like the swollen tear that ran down your cheek and settled in your ear as you cried yourself to sleep.

I tried to call to you from where I stood on the decaying wooden staircase but my words were muffled by the downy mist. I watched you shiver – the snow clinging to your eyelashes – little bursts of air spilling forth from the thin space between your thin lips.

I called out your name again, my cold red hands cupped to the sides of my mouth. My breath’s steam carried your fragile name and nestled it into your frozen red ears.

The night finally fell completely – leaving only the naked sun over your left shoulder. It burned my eyes and made me close them tightly. The brilliant reflection off of each blade of each snowflake danced – pink – across my eyelids.

for Cindy…

I Was Remembering

I was remembering the night on the old mattress
Black light Jimi Hendrix stapled to the ceiling
Our pants were around our ankles shirts around our necks
Elvis playing on an 8-track player hidden under the blanket
Your breath was sweet and moist from the wine
Your hands were urgent but they weren’t very experienced
The strength of 10 horses held my heart inside my chest
Your skin was like cream–smooth and flawless
My hands were rough
I was afraid that my calluses would scrape away the finish
But I couldn’t stop at that point
You did though, you sat up and reached for a Salem
I let my shoes hit the floor
Before I began searching for my lighter and the 8-track player
A figure appeared in the doorway
But it disappeared just as quickly
I put a fresh Elvis tape in the player
The smoke from our cigarettes crept out the window
When you pulled your sweater over your head
You messed up your hair but you looked even better
I stopped for a minute to look at you sitting there
I remember falling back into your arms
Elvis filled the room again
And for just that moment I was him
He was me and with you
And every star in your view
Belonged to me that night

May 19, 2010: After Mixtape

For the Butterfly

Before rum turns to beer and that I trip on a tear in my heart – or my shoe or a thought
About nights like tonight when there’s soul in the fight and the love in the drink that I bought

So I sip and I trip and I laugh at the jokes that fly by on untenable wings
They thrust and they parry and the liquor will carry them into this cool night in spring

Will you write words tonight that you hope will ignite the next troupe of young dreamers you meet?
Will you crawl into bed – words still trapped in your head – while you typer stares back in defeat?

Somewhere at the crossroads of William and Shel
I find that my words have all aimed me toward hell
But if they can get me one more minute with you
I’d gladly consume them and that heart and that shoe

We try to be clever – whenever – we endeavor to put all these thoughts on a page
But it’s tends to be liquor – a little bit quicker – that now has me showing my age

So I’ll say good night to the slow fading light as I wait for my old phone to ring
Tomorrow will be here – but wait just one more beer – and then one more minute to sing…

May 19, 2010
2 a.m.

Home Movies

The lie that I call my childhood
Unfolded before me in 8mm glory
Sputtering along on the sprockets
Wrapped in an eerie rhythmic silence
Images flicker by across the little screen
Frame after frame of irresponsible innocence
The safety that the old shoe box held
has been betrayed
The shelf in the deepest corner
Of my father’s closet
Holds nothing now except for dust
Thick gray dust
The 8mm home movies defy the video age
Much the same way as they defy
My memories of youth

Another Hard Goodnight

A warm body beside me – someone calling to me from the other room
Put away your books and come and love me – make love to me
But I press on with my keyboard and my bourbon and another hard goodnight

Each word becomes an integral piece to a puzzle that I must assemble
There is no warm body for me – not tonight – there is little for an unknown poet
But I press on with my keyboard and my bourbon and another hard goodnight

Bobby Broom’s guitar is my only comfort on this cold mid-winter morning
He plays as if it is only for me while I sip bourbon and reconstruct the magic
But I press on with my keyboard and my bourbon and another hard goodnight

There was a time when I had everything but my pride robbed me of my future
Now there are nothing but reminders of what might have been in a sweeter time
But I press on with my keyboard and my bourbon and another hard goodnight

All of my past crushes are in someone else’s arms tonight however they got there
All of my past dreams are in someone else’s soul tonight however they got there
But I will press on with my keyboard and my bourbon and another hard goodnight
I will press on with my keyboard and my bourbon and another hard goodnight