I’m wishing well in vain.

Take this pill

another one

you’ll see tomorrow

the rising sun

it washes over

everyone

regardless of their creed.

If I sang to you

in metaphor

or parable

I must implore

the meaning that

your searching for

exists only in faith.

So sure yeah I’ll

take half a drag

if you could promise

no aftermath

you’re a stupid kid

if you think that

anyone’s playing for keeps.

We called it love

but it was more

her beauty filled

my eyes with warmth

the tears that spill

are evermore

like leaves on the fall breeze.

If I told you once

I’d tell you twice

it’s meaningless

yeah my advice

it’s hogwash still

I swill it down

like champagne I am cheap.

There’s no reason to hang your head

Or spend all day in your bed

Because some things you can’t change

No matter what nothing is sane

No regret is meaningless

I mean the thought alone is evidence

That people never change

No matter how near or far away

And Ritalin works wonders for

The child who must be ignored

If the class is to progress

There’s no time to spare in jest

At first it feels like an accident

Then tragedy cranes her neck

It’s a problem you can’t solve

Because there’s nothing to be solved

Nobody gets quite what they deserve

A coin toss isn’t so absurd

If your winning it makes sense

If not you up your bet

You know that feeling in your head

The one that tells you you’re ahead

Before the obvious is said

Before the obvious is said

So

Take me with

a grain of salt

the shaker’s spilled

on everyone

who’s ever lost

or ever won

the menu’s all the same.

And I’ll take it now

for what it’s worth

this death I feel

as a rebirth

now everyone

I ever hurt

I’m wishing well in vain.

Nonsense

I was thinking how peculiar

right before I made a U turn

It was early Sunday morning

flashing sirens without warning

Looking both ways like a child

crossing with chicken on the road

there is this man who looks me up

and down as I begin to sigh

Then I look in both direction

turn the wheel with cruel intention

In the distance there’s this woman

picket signs read save the children

I am half way home before I know

exactly what I’m doing though I

stop the car unlock the door

and let the woman in

She sits criss-cross like a virgin

while I drive off she is urgent

I don’t know what you are thinking

she speaks softly without blinking

I was waiting for the bus when you

rolled up I must confess I recognized

your eyes from times gone by

like strangers on a train

It is awkward for a second

can I interest you in breakfast

She says sure she knows a diner

while she applies her eye liner

There’s a group of old men standing

with dead babies and demanding

that a women’s right is not all right

unless they’re in control

I’ll have coffee she’ll have coffee

yes please thank you two black coffee’s

In her teeth stuck there’s a poppy

seed my breath smells quite like onion

As the man from earlier walks by

the window just in time to see

again with no expression just a

long tedious sigh

He must think of me how boring

flashing sirens without warning

I feel seasick like a sailor

hey can you do me a favor

And that’s when she asks

to take her back in time for

her divorce of course she’d

first prefer some pie

On the drive home I was thinking

how peculiar she left winking

Shut the door then started walking

while I drove off she was talking

To the man who looked familiar

from the corner of my eye though

when I looked away then back again

they both just sort of sighed

Passing by the old cathedral

doors open releasing people

From their suffering they’re smiling

shaking hands exchanging sighs and

Across the street there’s signs

that read like jokes inside my mind

there’s men and women who protest

the earth is flat next to another group

who all claim there is no God.

a beautiful life.

At the end of this life

if you can say

I did some things

I really, really enjoyed

and helped some people

along the way

all the while

laboring loves labyrinth

then that

I’d say

is a beautiful life.

a bad artist

At the end of the day

when my feet are sore

when my mind is heavy

and I can’t take anymore.

Playing with matches I paint.

I paint such beautiful pictures

in my heart that burns

which no one can see

because I’m no painter

I’m just a bad artist

fingering napalm.

A Common Conundrum

There
is a
brief
window
as a kid
where
they
don’t know
about

overtime
morning commute
time and a half
cut hours

nor should they,

because
they’re kids,
kids who need to let the adults speak
you tell them all the time

so
when
the kid’s
all grown up
and wants nothing to do with you
don’t forget
all
those
times
the kid
just wanted to play.