Archive for March 2009
Seventeen
Isn’t the sky more beautiful with stars in it?
Or maybe just the lights on the hill?
It’s just cold enough on this late March night.
The kind of cold that just feels good flowing through your hair, through your body.
Just beautiful enough for me to be reminded of how lucky we are,
How gorgeous the night is,
To enjoy this slow drive home.
I’m goin’ 35 but it feels like 10.
And I’m just watching the leaves dance around my windshield from the front to the back.
And almost on cue the jazz ends, the song ceases it’s melody, the engine stops, I am home.
New Orleans Square
And somewhere hidden behind the facades dance chimney sweeps atop the roofs.
There’s something magical there if you keep going,
But I cannot continue tonight.
I can only admire what you hold the potential to be.
Somewhere hidden.
Goodbye beautiful facade, I’ll never know the beauty you possess.
You were nothing more than a hope of a dream.
Coastal Postal
Suddenly I hear nothing,
And the rhythm joy enters my ear canals.
It sings its way through my nervous system
And exits into my brain as it explodes into tiny pieces of music.
I am overcome with a vibrant sensation of notes and melody.
Look how far we have come.
We seem to never run out of luck.
A beach city still seems so far away.
I don’t know exactly where it is,
But it’s not here.
It just gets farther away with every miserable footstep you take up that staircase.
Fish Sandwich and the Sports Section
I owe you.
It took a real artist to find the beauty hidden in the desert.
It’s almost right there in front of you, if you look hard enough,
But it took the right person to unleash it.
And all this green and jazz just seems to fit here.
Soft floating sounds and noises fill the air with peace.
Pasadena, I am your friend.
Fill me with peace.
You’re lacing the desert with water.
You keep us at ease.
I’m Lost Somewhere in Delaware
I’m stopped here,
and this car’s parked terribly.
I see lights up the road.
Are they coming to get me?
And who would’ve thunk it?
Castle walls on the side of a freeway.
A mystical forest full of wonder.
Oft do bees play on my windshield,
And oft do boys play soccer on abandoned parking lots.
Suicide Forest
West Tokyo, Japan.
A cold, early day in an even colder January.
Full of trees, this destination is never sought for pleasure, but for pain.
Good, my dear friend, you’ve left us for good.
Desperate and unidentified, you see no path to continuance.
Taro, where will you go? Why must you leave?
Your mind is the foundation your life is based on.
Use it.
But you see no path to continuance.
It must cease. All. Everything.
You bought a one-way ticket to the forest,
And in this forest burn trees for miles.
The dead are never found.
The officials fear more deaths.
Promises spent on 20 percent less.
But they don’t care about you.
Built up inside, you want to die?
Or do you just want it all to get better?
Burn the forests down!
Burn the forests!
Burn everything that stands in your way.
Both you Taro, and Japan.
Save the trouble, and the trip.
Please Taro, please.
You will be missed,
Whether you go missing in the forest,
Or because we have finished talking.
Pacoima Love Letters
We lost some soul today.
Events that have occurred have now been erased.
Stories shared are now oil based, but not beautiful.
The factories have been overtaken by men who do no work.
“It’s a shame,” the man said.
His words were true.
This poetic masterpiece has been taken from us.
It’s being held captive in one mans mind.
This beauty may never be seen again.