CHANGE

Change, change, change…
It’s all the same.
Change, change, change…
It’s all the same.

And then you die,
but somehow survive,
and then wake up
to another day.

And you go to work
all goddamn day.
You dirty a shirt
every goddamn day.

And then you die,
but somehow survive,
and then wake up
to another day.

But then comes a morning;
a new day is dawning.
You wake up to find
things changed.

You gotta do the dishes
every goddamn day,
and they defer the wishes
every goddamn day.

And then you die,
but somehow survive,
and then wake up
to another day.

Change, change, change…
It’s all the same.
Change, change, change…
It’s all the same.

And then we die,
but somehow survive,
and then wake up
to another day.

In Transit

I'm goin down the station. 
I gotta buy a ticket.
I’ve earned a reputation in this town.
They mistook me for a friend. They mistook me for a man.
They mighta been right though when they,
when they,
called me a clown

But I'm runnin' from my problems ‘cause they’re confined
to one timezone
and a little place
that’s known as the past,
where only memories last,
where length, height, width and time
and time defined space.

But time only is a conglomeration
a momentary nation of mind
where dimensions and people meet and greet
an unfolding, rolling, flowing, fleeting brief second of life
of life alive

On each side of each second
is just one more and just one less.
And here we are at zero,
our only moving hero.
And if there is no God
then our only motivator is love.

SAME OLD WORLD

Autonomy
is ought onto me.
On the nautical sea I’m
sailing. I’m trailing.

A sliver of silver—
it’s the gilder killer.
The Indian giver is wailing, he’s flailing.

The bulb of a tulip
is worth a whore’s two lips,
but the flower business is booming—it’s blooming.

But the black skin is better—
as long as it’s fettered;
the queen’s headdress feather is fuming. It’s pluming.

It’s the same old world (x3)
that it’s always been.

Edges of the World

I’m goin' to marry you.
We’re gonna have a whole mess of children too.

We’re gonna have a house on the hill,
in the North New England woods and the fields.

Red barn, white fence, the long green prairie grass, and
we’re gonna have enough time to make all these anxieties pass.

And left over we’ll have love and death.
With the thought of those two I’ll cherish every breath.

And we won’t have to fix the world; we’ll create our own,
with the edges of the world being the fences that surround our home.

Ever Since

I went down to see
the blood on the beaches of Normandy, 
the place I came to stay— 
or—
the place I came to be….
To try and end
this fire between friends.

But the last sound that I heard on Earth
was the sound of the bullet ripping through my shirt.
I went into a fog,
a bog
of blood and brains,
then a surreal state of mind
I’ve been trying to find

Ever since I kissed those lips. (x3)

Time slowed down and then sped up.
I felt like a toy ship in a cup,
with my stern turned away
from the opening
of the cave,
watching the women on the wall
dance the waltz.

This world is where I wanna be, 
but maybe Mars is better for me.
Maybe the sirens of Titan
have been fightin’ 
for a chance at me,
pulling their serpentine hair
with Gorgon stares

Ever since I kissed those lips. (x3)

And I say goodbye as I fade to black.
I wave goodbye ‘cause I’m not comin' back.
I’m not comin’ back. I’m not comin' back.
I’m not comin back from this  
dream, ‘cause the world’s too damn pretty 

Ever since, (x5)

Ever since I kissed those lips. (x3)
Ever since I kissed Death’s lips.

It's Fine; You're Ugly

If by tomorrow
I don’t hear from you,
If by tomorrow
I see you don’t pull through,
I’ll just dispel,
I’ll just tell
you goodbye.

It’s clear that I
romanticized.
It’s clear that I
saw you with rosy eyes
in the field.
I’ll admit I yielded
to my emotions.

And for being myself
I apologize.
But for being myself
I realize
that we won’t be no good,
because you ain’t good enough
for me.

I deserve respect.
But what do I get from you?
I deserve respect.
But I get jack shit from you;
You don’t respond;
You don’t belong
in such a beautiful body.

Because you’re ugly,
you’re ugly,
you’re ugly inside.
You’re a coldhearted bitch
with pretty brown eyes.
And it’s fine, 
it’s fine,
it’s fine—
I was only in it
for your tits.

Because you’re ugly,
you’re ugly,
you’re ugly inside.
And soon the out will be the in
in time. 
And it’s fine,
it’s fine,
it’s fine—
I only loved you. (x2)

Habanera

I’ve spent all day thinking about this.
I’ll spend all night dreaming about your lips.
I knew how I wanted to hold you and I did.
Now I want to find ways God himself forbid.

You said you got curves, but you’re more like a carving.
For me to buy your meals is worth starving.
I’d give you my hands to sustain the sculpture.
Leave me to bleed, to feed the vultures.

Perhaps those are the evil spirits you speak of—
high-flying, jet black birds that feed on blood and love.
My blood I can do without and my hands I would gladly give,
‘cause if love is all I’ll have, that’s enough to live.

You said you got curves, but you’re more like a carving.
For me to buy your meals is worth starving.
I’d give you my hands to sustain the sculpture.
Leave me to bleed, to feed the vultures.

Heard A Ring

I heard a ring. I heard birds singing
in the morning.
I awoke with a start from a dream of hearts
and gold commingling.

I felt I was falling.I heard voices  calling.
And the sky was peeling.
A familiar voice said, “Write not from your head,
but from how it looks from the ceiling.”

Viscous ink rolls over your eyes.
It ebbs and flows like hot-tar, high tides.

And the whites of my eyes are covered in black,
which yields and shields me from salvation’s attack.
Were it that I would, I would that I could. 
But I will want to—and I could if I would.
But I would and could and can and will only have you.

I heard a ring. It sounded like angels singing
in the morning.
I woke with a start from a daydream of streams
and water lilies.

I felt a breeze brawling, but kind of creeping and crawling,
like a butterfly awakening from a daydream of being you.
In a stupor like cupid, it stumbled in limpid,
and then burst, all at once, into a explosion of color.

Viscous ink rolls over your eyes.
It ebbs and flows like hot-tar, high tides.

And the whites of my eyes are covered in black,
which yields and shields me from salvation’s attack.
Were it that I would, I would that I could. 
But I will want to—and I could if I would.
But I would and could and can and will only have you.

Into the Briars

Please, God, make the pain go away.
Please, God, make the pain go away.
All I wanted was a bit of repose.
Like the kind I gave that smoldering rose.
But when I stepped on it, thorns were stuck in my toes.

It hurt so bad I wish God stepped on me.
It hurt so bad I wish God stepped on me.
I don’t care if you think I’m a liar.
I don’t need no god damn qualifier.
But if you really want one, go run through briars on fire.

So it’s into the briars, and into the brambles. 
I’ll run bare-naked—I’ll take that gamble.
And I’ll hold my aces and fold my jokers. 
And in my other hand I’ll have a fire poker, 
to stoke the flames
and slash through the pain.

Please, God, don’t make the pain go away.
Please, God, don’t make the pain go away.
I been fighting so long I begun to love
my enemy, the pain I was afraid of.
But now all I fear is having no fear to rise above.

So it’s into the briars, and into the brambles. 
I’ll run bare-naked—I’ll take that gamble.
And I’ll hold my aces and fold my jokers. 
And in my other hand I’ll have a fire poker, 
to stoke the flames
and slash through the pain.

Soap in My Whiskey

All of my dishes were dirty, but it makes no difference to me,
‘cause I put a little shot of soap in my whiskey,
‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.

I don’t need no coffee. I don’t need no caffeine.
I just need a little shot of soap in my whiskey,
‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.

I don’t want no cocaine. I don’t want no morphine.
I just want a shot of soap in my whiskey,
‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.

My mind has been muddled. My wits, they ain’t too keen—
probably ‘cause I’ve had about a gallon of soap—
but, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.

All of my dishes were dirty, but it makes no difference to me,
‘cause I put a little shot of soap in my whiskey,
‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.
‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.
‘cause, Mama, I’m goin’ clean.

Bottom of Infinity

It’s the infinite possibilities
of each moment
that obsess me—
it’s the myriad feasible philosophies
to use to view
something like destiny.
But the rest of me
ain’t a recipe.
It’s an amorphous blob
undulating and inflating
like an ego balloon.
Blow it up.
Let it go.
See how long it takes to blow.
See where it wants to go.
See how long it takes to pop
at the top of the sky
and at the bottom of infinity.

I step into the water and walk downstream
with the cool swirls flowing down
around my knees.
The past flows behind me;
the future flows in front of me;
the current is their synchronicity.
But the spires of trees
and the columns of flame
tower up above my head and
erase my name.
I lose my self,
and everything else;
I cure my health,
forget my wealth.
I lose my longterm memory
like a wisp of smoke
into the bottom of infinity.

I smile, close my eyes, and inhale deep
as the warm sunlight falls upon my cheeks.
After many years of waiting
and thinking and debating
I finally found felicity.
But the silvery sky
and my wearier exterior
are playin’ tug of war
and I don’t know which one’s superior.
Which one will win?
Which one will lose?
When will my heart stop
its crimson ooze?
When will I die
and when will I arrive
at the bottom of infinity?