MUSIC FOR SALE

My thoughts walk on clouds
Better storms storm my horizon
Tides rise in Sad eyes
And starving skies
I won't cast you out
For feeding me lies.


I used to Pray for calm
But only during the storm
Like if I could hold it my palm
I could right the course and return this ship to


Forlorn peace a fading memory
Darkened hallways dimly lit
Addicted and broken-arted
A parody Parrot perched on the player's arm


Causes the record to skip.



What's more important than Life
Than Freedom
Than Breathing


Our hardened hearts and stubborn flesh
Warnings given yet we refuse to heed them



Chains are
Great things to complain about
Yet we run around
Trying to make sure we don't do without them


The sounds that we hear are the ones
We use to block out the fears
And all this tears at the fabric
Of our existence


She greets the sunrise with contempt
It's pale grip and desire to flee the coming day
Creates a space outside of time



The soft rain of our existence
Pitter patters and spins a web of sleep
And she breathes in harmony
With the universe


Everything is all is well and named
We may have evolved to
Nothing is the same
But there's no way to tell
For sure.


The breath and brevity of life
Footprints in ancient sands offer a glimpse and
Tell the tale of beast and man
A Divine plan


To which we bow without understanding the why and the how
The then and the till then
The loss and the win
Or the here and the now



Lay down
And drown
These thoughts in
My head a stepping stone
My face submerged


My garbled glass words
Warrant a response
The paradigm shifts so slowly
The movement nuanced


I tried screaming silence
Broken bruised bleeding
Bound by ties that blind us
The years have not been kind to us


Accused fingers pointing
From the hands of the clocks we've held
A wall of sound surrounds and picks our bones
Belittle for a little
When we bare our gnarled souls
We show how alone
We left us



I woke up in another cemetery this morning

I've taken to sleeping there in the open air
(my concrete pillow and her vacant stare)
The headstone becomes home

And


Laying with the dead
Beats being alone


My fingers trace the name
Engraved on this grave
And wonder what was written on this poor soul's page
Was his, a life, of toil and strife
Was he surrounded by loved ones
His children, his Wife
When the dark crept in
And snuffed out his light



Oh to go
Walking in graveyards
Anybody lonely as me
And to see a dead tree
All twisted reminds me of...
Of our song
(Would be !)