Archive for October 2008
Confidence Man
Hello. I’m a heartbreaker.
I break hearts.
And souls and trust and minds.
I break innocence and friendships.
Things of that nature. All kinds.
Now, I could be lying to you.
My words are alleged fakes.
They’re good at that.
But look at my words, my demeanor, this face.
I could never hurt that bad.
They say if anyone were to hurt me that those people got nerve.
I’m a gentleman.
Some dream come true.
It’s not what I deserve.
But I’m so successful in so many cases.
My sense of security has you fooled.
Your belief in my innocence is what makes me dangerous.
I do that on purpose. This smile’s my tool.
Now if you listen to the words that pour out of my mouth.
They’re like thieves in the night that sneak house to house,
In search of a fight or an argument alike.
They always do wrong when trying to do right.
Like boys do to girls on the playgrounds and black tops
When they frolic and shine inside a naive sandbox.
The way girls make boys do things of their choice
With a simple inflection of change in their voice.
And so with truth I will play,
Just like all the boys,
And you’ll be my playmate,
Your heart, the toy.
11:11:11
It’s October.
The 2nd hottest in 100 years.
Surely the sky can’t be falling!
Baby, the sky is falling,
Here, on a town where Autumn only comes in fairytales
Or is fabricated inside of soundstages.
I hope the water has truly arrived.
Here in this town a secret’s shelflife lasts mere seconds.
We’re so unphased by the life around us.
But to wake up to drops showering art onto our roof tops
It has given us a real surprise.
Hollowed Parks
5 trees.
Side by side along the fortress walls of a castle afar.
The castle, it protects us.
It smiles for us.
It holds us here in this cold and shadowed hole.
Where there are cold and shadowed men.
These men have lost their chivalry.
Will I acquire what it takes?
What it takes to make it here.
Over there, across this man made river, sits a silent city of bodies.
The souls that once filled them have seen compassion.
Where is my compassion?
There are no stars out tonight
I’ve never seen a weed grow.
Ten. Ten Million.
I was gone for 2 of ’em.
There hasn’t been very many of ’em.
And you were forced into the world to learn it all on your own.
I was nowhere to be found.
Your transtion was halted, troubled.
Letters cannot spell out the sorrow.
You screamed for help.
You needed me.
And I was too good for you?
Now, look at you.
16 years older with the thoughts of man.
God, I’m so proud of you.
Before, you couldn’t ask me anything.
I was the ghost with the empty bed that was filled only after late-nights.
It brings tears to my eyes.
I’m sorry. I am.
You must’ve had so many questions and thoughts.
No one to share them with.
You don’t need my help anymore.
Never will I tell you of my regrets.
Never once will I claim to change.
I hope now, a year later, you have seen that change.
And I don’t believe “I love you,” will hit it like “I’d die for you.”
I’ll never leave you ever again.
You’re one in a million.
December Wind on All Hallows’ Eve
There’s a sense of urgency that floats away when you open the door.
The wonder pours in and fills the room.
An October wind pushes the peace around.
The old lady carries her roses.
I could’ve never told you about it in the morning.
This is California at its best.
This is why they chose this place.
This is why our cities stand tall.
This is why we live here.
Breathe easy.
At night it’s the same.
Almost hollow yet sacred.
Real. It’s real.
And I look up tonight and drink in the cold, the wind.
The white moon fits inside our pockets.
It hides behind the flowing clouds.
I can see it peeking through the branches in the tree.
You know what I see: Leaves dancing in the street to an album beat.
Winter Wonderland
Tonight, I am standing here.
Almost naked on this suburban street.
It feels as if I’ve walked out of the ocean, onto the sand, while the wind mists the few rain drops against my face.
It’s back. We’re back.
I feel the cold against my legs. It’s real.
And the trees say, “Hello,” and remind me of a time.
It’s rare what I feel tonight.
“Welcome home,” they say.
Only to awake to breeze under grey clouds. All I could ever ask for.
Atop this mountain you can’t see far yet.
The mist arrives and the dew nestles on the stained glass windows.
The play comes out and kindness is spread in wealth.
And it only lasts a few moments but comes around just in time.
The music sings a little clearer and softer.
Patience is discovered.
The jackets are back in style, the kisses are warmer.
The street lamps smile and the notes ring on in my head.
I swear the air smells a little sweeter, tastes a little better.
Some might say life is more authentic.
God, I think it’s wired a little differently.
I think I think a lot.
It sees things slightly different than them.
Wants to relish in the past.
The past of first grade classrooms and lunch tables,
Cafeteria lines and chocolate milk.
The ever sustaining accomplishment of being first in the lunch line.
It believes all that is real is fake and all that is fiction is real.
Sincerity lives here.
Innocence lives here.
A tuned in television set to a show of look and feel.
This is the way it should look and feel.
Where have all the good ones gone?
Enchanted classrooms standing in front of a wall covered in vines live here.
Imagination too wild to control that it rarely releases anything.
A first love with Friday winds.
Isn’t it fantastic?
How small you can feel in an open field?
Under an ocean of broken clouds in dim light?
Look how I can move swiftly as they hover still.
The sky tonight is a silhouette in front of the sunlight that bounces off the Moon onto Earth.
Mesmerizing joined with laughter and chaos.
We’re not lucky to witness such greatness.
We’re blessed.
And maybe that should tell me something.
That you don’t mess around with the good ones.
That they bring you peace.
Half of it.
And when the sun falls asleep she will keep you warm.
Like a pillow she will let your head rest gently.
Like the hands of a saint she’ll disarm you.
Forever we will fight with words.
And to describe what I feel you would’ve had to live it.
Like a screenplay night written for a film
You wouldn’t have believed it unless you were there..
You must excuse my eyes, they’re trying not to stare.
Psychiatrist & Patient in the Optometry Office
The world was never so simple for the neighbors down the street.
2+2=4 here.
Not there.
It can be split into twisted segments never thought possible.
And the psychiatrist could’ve never expected what her ears were about to listen to.
She was only trying to help.
Your father hates you.
He only hates himself.
For others, complaints don’t resonate within.
Life is accepted.
I’m sorry I cannot describe this with colors and detail
For beauty has been seized from her.
Beauty is always seized in yellow light
But she has found some of her own.
It’s never shed in tears.
Her eyes stare blank at the hand.
A hand that has been held and helped but understands.
But with no help from anyone, anything, she’s now made it on her own.
I’m telling you.
She found some of her own.
It glows on her face.
Goodbye, my dear.