Tipping Point

From PA twangs to boomerangs, words I never thought would come back to me,
this place just dwells and dwells and dwells.
Now so swollen but it used to be so swell. And I guess
that's what happens over the course of 12 seasons,
I suppose it's natural to go from will to appeasement.
The five minute drive never fell so far from shine before today.
With the polish gone there's nothing else in the way, all that's left
to see is what's not there anymore.
A girlfriend and pride, other friends and too much time,
and an emphasis on what it is to share.
So I've checked the gears, I've checked the battery,
when you figure it out don't bother getting back to me.
Bridging gaps from what was now to what is next.
I've walked out the door to show you that I've left.

"Damnit, Neil, the name's Nuwanda"

He's watching, he's waiting, he's walking, he's waltzing,
he's never been so calm before, dialed in before.
He's flaked, he's shaked, he anticipates, but he waits even more, ever more.
He's decided to try it, he feels how it's driving
so smoothly
so coolly,
but he waits, he shakes, anticipates the waltz to her beat
but he waits, waits waits, waits waits,
oh,
even more,
ever more
'til he goes through her door

The Ballad of U. R. Strong

He felt the pangs from his name,
the schoolyard boys would shout "Ulysses is a synonym for sissy!"
They'd disregard its root of the winning general,
and go right to shouting "Randy is something that should be menstrual!"
So these shapes he was for reasons only just because dug the hole
that was his own personal pitfall.
As he fell he thanked Goodness time was beyond Vietnam,
'cause it let him avoid the punji sticks that would have made him gone.
So he only got a bump on the head and a scratch here and there,
all in all a fall to be considered fair.
He moved to unearth some dirt that comprised the surrounding wall,
'cause he knew if he was going to get up he would have to claw.
So now you know what you'd have to do
if you ever find yourself in the shoes
of
U. R. Strong

To Arms

The Mayor lost his seat and sash. Anxiety somehow stole it and is driving up taxes on all the town's hard-earned cash. He ironically stays afloat on instability, increasing the lack of power of the deputy. The citizens arm themselves as vigilant, inspired by the colonies from seventeen seven six. They ignore the grandiose liberties for their comparison to continue on the advancement of the new garrison. They build it inch by inch and brick by brick, as Anxiety puts up his feet where he sits. He chortles at their attempt for self help, and kicks back and adds another inch on his belt, all while the citizens build up all the powder and shells they can to show this bastard some hell.

And they do it, the start to march begins on October. They want this thing done before winter, to see the score they'd get on the over/under, because somehow the numbers have survived. Free hands, free heats, the wheels that move this car that keep this thing going. The open road they'll use to show in the movement always goes the way they want it to.

Paying the Piper

Oh, the moments I played back tonight --
the kind my mind's more likely to forget
than my body 'cause of the imprint
they left in my hand
as I held them taking my head from the sand --
There was that time with that girl
we were nearly sideswiped by some speeding ass
on the way to watch my high school jazz band
competing.
I bet he couldn't have crashed as
hard as we did
even if
he tried.
Then there was that time with that other girl,
racing from work's trash can in the work trash bin.
We were going so fast I was so surprised
when one of our wheels got a flat.
I don't think she realized how hard I was pushing for her
'cause she was too busy
smiling.
And finally then, at the end, in my car
my head was on the Dashboard.
Hands Down, I'm defenseless against that song. I guess I could
say the same about those girls and their decisions
even if I couldn't disagree more with them.
So I picked up my head and saw how it let these leak tonight
and thought
I better pay the piper
before the pipes I've got rust out

Staying Nowhere

I suppose change is legal tender, but like the cashier who hates his job I don't understand why you insist on using it. You're holding up the line, taking up my time, and, yeah, I'm on the clock for this but the hands are turning into fists. White knuckles and tedious chuckles, just take your bags and go already.

Not So Open Letter

I don't think I'm being cynical when I say you've seen better days.
The "Yeah, but" argument relents and goes away when it's tired of me
(the epitome of around being around here),
just like you did. So we sit quietly, so you're ok with it, but I want to go home.
But you've even got my pillow,
and I don't know where I can lay my head anymore and if one thing is for sure
I'd rather be swimming in feathers than my own sweat from this weather but I'm not.
So I fall asleep too late because I've stayed up, waiting, too long,
hoping you'd say something to make it worth while.
You haven't, and my brain squints to try to get me to see the last time you did.
It's not working but my brain's not to blame.
Try as I might, this one is not on me.
I've known it for a long time that ours is up, and now
the only thing left to do is stop feeling down and start looking ahead.
The next time I wake I'll have broken with you from bent.
Goodnight, goodbye, to you and the sighs you brought.

Where Did You Come From?

"When are you gonna get the nerve and walk up and talk to me?" she said angrily as I looked up from the table and saw she'd appeared in front of me. Tall for her height. Porcelain-type face, long black hair that knew where to stay. Somewhat anomalous -- I've been sitting here all year, she's only made the space at that table hers in the last few days.

Oh, she never said this by the way. Just a daydream on a warm day my mind feigned.

Ergo Therefore Redundant

Our tables are ordinary, four legs and a top,
But it's the conversations that are not. I swear they're the reason that I can't stand small talk.
And Mom, she always has time for her anecdotes, 'cause she knows if she don't we won't.
With Daddy I always wonder what could make a man so stoic
And I can't imagine what's up there in his head so stowed.
"Don't rock the boat baby."
My brothers and me, we're spitting images of their flaws.
Communication lacking, disguised as mistakes.
And it makes me sad 'cause they haven't figured any better.
"That's just the way it is" (that's just the way it shouldn't)
and there's no changing the way their worlds spin.
"Don't tip the boat baby."
Part stubborn and part rug burn, none of us know when to quit.
'Cause we all like to swear we know what the stingy tossing of each other will mean, has meant.
If I can tell you anything, I can tell you this --
We were decorated veterans in familial transgression before even the age of enlistment.
And I ain't never met a group of soldiers that felt so old or wanted out so bad so early but would die before they say it.
I write you to say it's not too late.

Of, In, and Parllel To

I picture lots of white paneling surrounded by rich mahoganies that don't run too deep and keep the black leather furniture on a comfortable leash. A fire crackling with flames real big as snow falls down like feathers from the prettiest bird you could ever see, and an affection for the city I didn't know I had in me. It's the dead of winter, and I'd see nothing but the view from the eighth floor, wouldn't care to know what's in store or question if anything had sold out. Leave it all about some time whose hour's sound hit forever ago. I'd notice how people still manage to move, reluctant as they may be, but in motion undeniably; yes, it's necessary. I wouldn't need a place to go. You could come.

One day, you'll have everything you want. I promise.

"Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life"

I got a back pocket where I keep the ghosts,
the ones who tell me coulda when and shouda how.
They make sure to spot the coast
with all the faith that isn't now.
They try and tell me how I felt good,
but they don't got a clue what good is.
I tell you I will show them,
if only I get the chance.
I swear history need an editor like I need regrets.

And I swear, too, I said goodbye so many times,
But they keep swearin' 'bout unfiinished business
as if it's more than just a line.
So I tell them not to worry, no one will hold it against them if they skip it.
But they tell me they will show me, if only they get the chance,
that my one day will come.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of my life.
And I tell you that part ain't nowhere near my plans,
'cause one day I'll have won.

Knock Knock

Knock Knock

Naturally ambitious to find the lavender soap in the manila envelopes,
I'm confident in their confidentiality.
Carnally surreptitious to get the documents showing who has been finger printed,
the smart money's written in invisible ink.
When it's no one's fault it stings, 'cause there's nothing to blame at the drop of a name. The scariest thought is the house of evergreens that aren't me and mine are at the grind.
My mind minds.
Stop on a dime, double my five sense(s).
Being spent relents. Give up, move on in time.

"...regardless of circumstance"

I've wanted to write this for a long time. I'm still not entirely confident with how it came out. I feel I could say more or say it better (preferably the latter). Regardless, it's how the entire relationship with this person has gone the whole time -- I've always thought it could have had more clarity at a given moment. It hasn't, and neither does this, so I guess it makes some sense afterall.

"...regardless of circumstance"

I was sipping at a Pepsi when my cool had barely left me,
I can't help but think about all you've said.
If I told you I was looking for my second wind would you give me back my first
and call it quits on all of this?
Or would you be you and continue on
with all the only now and discard the way back when and how? (Make it for not.)
Probably the latter and I've never been able to express how I get madder each time you show you're completely oblivious --
If not for Then and How I wouldn't be writing this right now,
we would have never become friends and I wouldn't have to bother with feeling short-changed when "our" nights end.

You buck blending times, they pass through a sieve and make separate minds, I feel as though I don't know you anymore.
The only things I can remember of you are all the things you say I should forget.

You haven't realized this yet.

I might as well start a pool for bets on the day we stop catching up again. It'll be in-ground and modest so no one will drown; I just hope you make it in before the fence goes up. I'll throw in a blowup shark where the irony will go to the fin, you won't see it coming as I'm going for a dip.

I've got this headache that's a drip.

Consider this a migraine, it goes for days at a time.
I'll go without aspirin, sometimes I think I'd rather lose my mind.

I wonder what we won't say this time.

I'm so tired of this thing, whatever it is, I'm so tired of this.

Billing

I woke up and had an animal cracker breakfast; I was so hungry I ate a horse.
By midday I realized I hate half the things I realize anymore, and I wondered
how far my anxiety fell from the family tree,
if it sneaked into a bushel of oranges to get where it is today,
and how it's still squeezing me --
or if I've been carrying it all along.
So when late night rolled around I went to wash the poor taste of
sour grapes and lack of breaks from my mouth,
when the ridges to the cap of Listerine reminded me
You can get sticky fingers when trying to come clean.