I sing the body electric.
Naked notes are ghosts of rhythmic prose
That shake inside aching ears.
Primal outburst;
Sudden attack of molecular disruption
Into quiet atmospheres.
Struggle to bind, might break,
Might collapse upon myself
In the afterthought of this chaos
Forming from foaming fingers
Pleased by punching beats
Out of this mind machine.

When the flood began,
And the water came rushing in the room,
I didn't mind that I
Was about to be swept away.

Told myself that this might happen.
Told myself I'd be prepared;
I didn't imagine how quick I'd be stricken;
My heart said something but I didn't hear.

So the walls collapsed and everything
Fell out of place for me again.
But I like the space, I can move in this place,
A mind at ease in a voice that learns.

I worry about storms.
I worry about my feet in my mouth.
Will I ever get settled, and not be so bad
At the simple life of someone who listens?

I have a thought, if faint and distant...
My hand warmed by another grasp.
A place to park the car every night,
And christmas lights in the middle of July.

I've become a puzzle of quietude.
I sit all night and wonder why
The darkness makes me unsettled.
Perhaps it's because I'm counting on you.

Sea Collins

Dear friend,
Singer of stages and random acts
Of weathered joy bound by memory,
Hear me out...

You and yours are dear,
True light bound by beauty
Found inside your ever - constant
Struggle for the perfect melody,
But our time may soon be near it's end.

I watched your many faces fumble,
Watched you crumble when none
Were looking; saw you draw a breath in
And steal a second chance of bravery.
We raised the music like a child,
And it fumbled and called on
All our grievances in waves of culprit
Behaviors and syncronicities.

You go with your heart- the reason I've
Been loyal so very long. How do I
Reconcile the difference my heart
Aches to take? It's buried in the dust
Of distant land standing, and I'm
Afraid of myself losing more light
Than I ought to, anymore.

I seek a path that might not be paved
For us any longer, and I'm so very sad.
You can't stop now; you've got that
Fire we bonded about long ago,
When I heard your foreign tongue
Mash out all those strange sounds.
You broke me down,
Emulsified my measure, and formulated
A new instrument of production
I'll never not want to be.
But I'm limited in production;
A temporary feed for the meter,
And anyhow the time's soon to run out.

God blesses the beautifully acute.
A vision of a meaning found by feeling
And believing to achieve what you're
Seeing and I'm really quite impressed,
For what it's worth.

Quicksand

All I want are easy answers,
And right now my life's a disaster,
But with some beautiful things
That pull my heartstrings.
You'd think it'd be simple...
To know which way to go,
But it's so incredibly hard.
I talk one way, think another.
I want to be near it all,
See it all succeed,
But deep in my heart I know
You can't have it all,
At least not in the way everyone thinks.
Sometimes waiting it out is the right answer;
But for me I feel this reality sinks,
Like quicksand.
Quicksand in the boots on my feet,
Almost knee-deep,
Until it softens the sound of
My heartbeat,
Then covers my eyes,
To shut out the light,
And the waiting is complete.

Calculated Degrees

Ooh, It feels so fine.
To think of love cascading down the mind,
Like a drizzle in the heat of July.
You stand outside all day to feel that drench
And be happy and warm all the while.

I can't imagine much better...

Put me on a stage,
I'll be a machine, and play my heart out,
But I always save a little bit for one,
The one that saved me first.

That's where I'm headed,
By slight, calculated degrees.

So what,
If I buy broccoli ambitiously,
Thinking I might take the healthy route.
It's sitting in the fridge,
From God know's when,
And I'm not about to dig into that mess.

Is that a metaphor for life?
Probably.

Calories, fuck them.
Ingest them beer by beer, if I may...
I'd rather smoke a hundred cigarettes
And talk until my voice is ripped apart
Than waste a simple day.

What is this mess I'm writing?
Well, you have the beer,
And the cigarettes,
And a lack of broccoli, of course,
And a low caloric intake,
So it's probably just drunken banter.

Figures.

Habit

Almost down for the count,
Splitting open from the inside out.
I smell her...
Can't think that way right now.
Got a whole big other thing going on too.
Got a whole bunch of life being lived up here,
Locked in a little house on a rainy night, and busy-brained.
One way or another, or both;
Does that work?
Probably not.
Habit is habitat of natural dissent accommodated.
Hiding in the back round,
It's easier.
I see a present so radiant I can't think of anything else,
But it's wrapped in a golden lining of such material
That my hands, and any other tool at my disposal,
Are ill-equipped to breach inside,
To gain entry to the heart of the prize,
And I don't want my undeserving hands
Handling such a beautiful thing;
Just doesn't seem right.
Can't solve the dilemma.
Can't feel natural at all right now.
Sort of swimming in too much stimulation.
Dazed by a dance of bliss and occupation.
Like a country giving way to the next great ruler,
I've surrendered my hope to preserve my homeland,
And am falling prey to something bigger
Than I have the strength to study and beat.

My waters run deep;
My expanse is immeasurable,
But only when I feel complete.
So there's time to spend
Until that happens again.

I stood outside a gas station smoking a cigarette with a coffee, thinking about this place and these last few days. A man walked by me and as he did he looked me in the eye and asked, "Howya doin' today?"

For some reason that was just what I needed.

Freedom

Sunny afternoon dispels
The mundane of today's work.
If I look at freedom,
In all it's issues of basis,
I think I might have at least a crumb
Of the the prized posession.
I am free,
In that my mind preserves itself,
Not in that which fills my pocket but
Rather in words and music
And the joy in keeping company
With all walks of fine people.

I really despise money, truthfully.
Though it gains to one thing,
It costs so much to acquire.
It makes people driven in very silly ways.
But we are all forced to reconcile
These things, and can live accordingly,
As our hearts desire.

Some people feel a need to impose
Themselves into the world by
Impressing achievements.
Be it land, wealth or fame,
A need to make their mark in eyes
Unknown. How silly. There are too many
Of us to be impressed, and to impress,
But if you can make a good impression
On one dear fellow, and do good by it,
Why would you ask much more?

I live for the love of words. They bring
Something in me much more valuable
Than any day's wages.
I live for the love of music,
The true currency of humanity.
I live to seek and give love.
It is so honest and right.
And freedom is thus manifested.

Rock and Roll Show

Got a bit of the night fever again.
The lights blazed themselves in me
And bright-eyed I came home late;
Still partcipating in the last three hours.

But the bar left the people,
And they riddled the streets riotous.
"Where you goin' now?' 'I don't know. What's still open?"
We watched the glasses and bottles float away.

Banter, business, cigarettes in the basement; away into the night, and home. Music blares and blares in us...us.

Finally home, I think of that which
Escapes me nightly. Maybe that's why I stay up- looking for that jump. It's got
To be around sooner or later.

But the company I keep are music, cigarettes and booze. Disorient my morning so I can wake up grumpy and full to the brim with fire. I work better.

Let that day roll on by sweet and swift and find a comfortable spot to deduce the logic of my thoughts. Tonight has become a pleasure.

The Variable

Twisted and broken down,

You can find the essence underground,

Voices ringing out in daunting unison;

A vision disrupted by a prison of

Decaying matter,

Barely registering on the faces of passers,

But so the spoils go only to

The very best of us not affected.

My mind reels,

Pull back my eyelids to reveal

A cosmic fugue of dark matter

Binding together that

Which I’m assembled of,

Being stardust.

We are those that choose no choice.

Living only by a screaming

Inner voice.

There are no ways to reconcile

Inevitable,

Because we are the variable.

October 4

The streets sheen from the rain,

Reflecting the glow from houses and streetlights,

And I'm walking down the avenue,

With a cigarette and a small umbrella.

Fall is come,

And all its manners are cruel and real.

Cold comes flooding my face

With gusts of wind and rain;

The snow is soon to find me,

And everyone else I know,

And we will all complain of its coming,

Until we've resigned to the fact that

It's just plain here to stay.

Tonight is reflective,

Like the streets.

Not a clear picture,

But vivid enough to conceal

The reflections of the inner work.

To brave the evening, 

And to settle the substance,

I pour a glass of irish

And sort it out as best I can.

I'm sitting indoors,

My coat still tightly bound.

The only comfort I can fathom

Is too far away from me to be found.

Isn't that just the way,

Isn't that just the way it is?

What I See Online

I’m looking at all these poets these days;

The ones who talk shit, or never rhyme, and is that

What’s become of writing?

What’s wrong with rhyming? I don’t see the problem

In being clever with some fucking rhythm,

Not everything is a skewed prism,

One angle, one view,

Connected by a faint light

Glowing through one set of eyes.

I didn’t go to college. I didn’t bother to deal that way.

I stuck around in the dregs

Playing music on shitty stages, for little dough,

And long nights, since nearly ten years ago.

Now I’m older, and the twilight of this young man’s life

Is setting in. I don’t sleep well, I don’t have the speed

Of someone pushing against the train,

But I take my time and show them all what method can do

When it’s worked out in front of busy brains.

These days most everyone is buried in their phones;

Their beady eyes scrolling, their fat cheeks glowing

In a stock still position,

And I wish a car would reel from the street sometime

And smack some reality back into them.

A limb here, a shirt there,

And then everyone would blog about it,

Or send their friends a fucking snapchat

Of the mayhem on a Tuesday night.

Fire

How much fire do I have in me
Before I finally decide it's time to sleep?
I try, try so hard to work it all out,
But the words, the feelings keep me up,
And I can't kill them no matter how hard I try.

It's like a speeding car coming up to a curb.
You wanna slow down so you don't kill yourself,
But the thrill of what's next keeps you going,
And fuck slowing, when that's the only
Mentality that you know by now.

I want to get a grip, but I tighten my grasp,
And comfort slips from my fingertips,
And I just keep holding on instead of
Letting go like I ought to. Another hour
Should do it. I'll stew in this until I'm through with it.

Burning, burning; the whole house is on fire.
I pace around restless and aimless,
Noises poised inside my ears shouting at me,
Telling me the things I know and feel all along,
And so I have no choice but to shout right back.

Maybe I'll self-induce me in a coma
With some drug that will push me into a sleep
Where my mind alone can ring out all this mess
Without my body feeling the effects so vividly;
I will push myself into the abyss of dreams.

And in the morning, when I'm disoriented,
Wondering what the hell happened the night before,
I will be calm and steady and make the coffee,
And ponder the essence of why
I am forced to beat me out of me every night.

Picture

All I can do is look at your picture
And imagine you face to face.
I can't, however, imagine the flood
Of feelings that would wreck me
When that moment makes it's reckoning.

Discovering this big sort of love,
One that scares you half to death,
Leaves the other half a mess.
Between hope and everything else
That's going on with me, I might just
Retreat to a quiet room,
And explode from the interest.

Can't shake you,
Can't wake you in the morning.
Can't get you drunk on wine,
And make you dance with me tonight.
For a boy like me, who wills his way,
You are a formidible adversary.

We've got this distance-
Well fuck that.
We've got some time until we meet.
Well then fine, I'll wait it out.
Kicking and screaming I will abide.

The Bar

Isolated thunderstorms
Surround the bar tonight.
Intermittent showers of
Froth and ice pour down the wood,
Surrounding me on all sides
With thunderous claps
And lightening glares,
As the glasses empty fast.
Relief efforts were needed
When glassware piled up along
The north side,
While the ticker was playing havoc
With table traffic.
I walked out of that mess
To escape the downpour,
Light a cigarette,
And sound the report.

Loser Heart

It's coming around again.
This loser heart is being tried.
Southbound but split two ways;
A mind like a train speeding to one,
But my heart, it leads to the other, undone.

I spent my whole lot dreaming,
The spins were reeling in and out...
A part of me so divided that
In myself, not myself, not alone
But not together with what I had.

Years go by, roll on hard or simple.
The comforts dissipate and the walls
To scale make my spirit tough, rugged
And thickened by either doubt or trained thinking.
But this loser heart of mine shared it's time breaking,
So I'm giving it another shot, because
If you don't keep pushing for the dream,
For the thing that binds all your lost efforts
Then you have nothing in life, really,
And you might as well take a bath and find
A simple mind to coalesce the world with.