Brutal Simplicity

Could have told my secrets to a stranger with ease

But telling them to him, helped me set them free

Free in his mind, where they would plant their roots

Sprout a mouth and learn to speak the truth

So I called him up early

One soft April morning

He said…

“There ain’t nothing like the present to take away your breath

Ain’t nothing like a gun shot, to lead to quicker death

But me, I’d rather live” he said, as he blew a cloud of smoke

“Cause if my life were to end, I surely wouldn’t have any hope.”

I took a basic figure and I learned to break it down

It was easy to keep things hidden when I didn’t know where they were found

But loves a decent system, not born to ignore

So I took a walk from the ocean back to his door

And I called him up early

One awful august morning

He said…

“Living life is simple if you do so with a cause

So take my hand and walk with me and for a moment we’ll have no flaws

I’m 5,000 miles from the nearest graveyard

So I can’t die, but I’ll leave a couple scars”

I could have cried myself to sleep in the gutter or died underneath the moon

But then I wouldn’t have had him by my side to whisper “good afternoon”

He took my hand and a breath of air, said “good luck, we’ll meet again,

It’s nice talking to a stranger, but I’d rather you my dearest dearest friend.”

Last time you read my mind
You traipsed in
Rewrote some pages
Affected my life
And what I thought of those places
Then walked back out
And left me stranded
To fend for myself
In this world
Abandoned
By everything good and solid and real
Honestly you could care less of how I feel
Hurt by ignorance and killed by its silence
I returned to a place where I knew of no violence
My dreams were the only place consisting of warmth
Until I found you knocking a steady beat on my door
I knew it was you because I recognized the song
It was a life long dream for me to become strong
Not only in in mind but in heart as well
I should have told you long ago
I’d be nothing but trouble.

It’s the worst feeling…
And it used to be hidden deep under the dirt
Though far from the surface it was still called hurt
It washed over me like a summertime wave
But still I’m stuck here in this desolate cave
I can’t get dry and I can’t stay warm
Our disjoint harmonies have left my heart torn
Torn into pieces, not one or two
But shattered like mirrors which in turn blinded the truth
It’s a sad sad day when love starts to dwindle
When all this time I thought passion was simple.

YOU CAN’T PISS ON HOSPITALITY.

one day
I will tell you a story.
a story that will matter.
and as I tell it I will laugh
and as I tell it I will cry.
the title of the story
to be honest
it is called ‘my life’. .

Next there came a young maker of guitars

Who every once and a while would smoke herself a foreign cigar

She was tall and blonde with olive eyes

When you were with her you were always in for quite a surprise

Quite at first, but once you got to know her

She became someone different, someone you admired

She wore many bracelets along her arm

Each one containing a story filled with romance and charm

One given to her by a gas station employee

After she had played him a sweet melody

The next given to her by a local customer at work

On his way back from Antarctica, the leather woven and marked

One from her father as a gift of celebration  

Rewarding the article written about her in the Flagpole publication

She had ten of these bracelets she never removed

Adding a new one was something she had to approve

Her clothes were dark, withered, and worn

Her favorite thing to do was play guitar, banjo or horn

She knew many people throughout the town

And when an opening act was needed, they came to track her down

She had fallen in love only once before

Not to say she hadn’t danced many times on the familiar romance floor

Never knowing what was to come of her choices

She took time in listening to everyone’s voices

She was a strong believer in karma and fate

Luck was often on her side, for her it was no temporary state

The library of music inside her mind was as diverse as the sea

The amount she cared of what others thought of her was a small as a flea

She had never been to church, not once in her being

Not because she disagreed, but because she found it freeing

To have her own thoughts about life and this planet

Her mind could not be swayed, she was a piece of granite

She drove a black Jeep and on the rearview mirror

Hung a cluster of items, to define her more clearer

A pair of cat ears from last October

She dressed as a crack fox, one that tried to stay sober

A ball of yarn and a few Mardi Gras beads

Left over from that party where she lost her    keys

Not defined in a sentence but instead a lifetime

For your sake I hope you enjoyed this nursery rhyme.