"To the Quick"
I write an epitaph,
for my excesses,
old-foundations,
blurry visions,
cleared up,
straight laced,
and I'm trimmed,
clean and neat,
'cause I plant cuttings,
in a shallow gutter bed,
and spread my roots,
but I don't know why,
I write a soliloquy,
for my future seed,
ignore what i have,
embrace what i have,
dictate, magnanimous,
gifts, I give you life,
and they're trimmed,
clean and neat,
brilliant though my plans,
I contribute just the X and Y,
I cannot mandate instances,
and when I fail, I die,
'cause I've harvested,
what I have sewn,
and my roots and spread and cut,
to the quick.
"tracing my toes"
it's just suburbia,
white teenage riot,
the tame version,
new years 1998,
and i'm here,
tracing my toes,
and that's how it goes,
year in, year out,
i don't want a part of this no more,
i wish i could just go walk out the door,
but maybe it is comfort keeping me here,
instead of walking out into the cold,
it's still suburbia,
white adult riot,
the drunken version,
new years 2015,
and i'm here,
tracing my toes,
and that's how it goes,
year in, year out,
i don't want to be a part of this no more,
why can't i get up out that door?,
is it some sort of feeling that keeps me here,
or is it that i'll do it all again next year,
time marches on,
to a different beat,
but the players are the same,
i don't want to be a part of this no more,
finally i've gotten out that door,
i'm waking up in cold night air again,
but at least i'm smiling.
"the decision"
the reality of you,
is nothing i am scared of,
at least not 'till now,
your callous decision,
and utter derision,
i have lost faith in you,
why are you being so selfish,
there are better roads to go,
i am not here to be a conscious,
just listen to what's in your soul,
the heart of the matter,
is getting fatter,
time to make a choice,
your mater's no help,
she's tightening the belt,
i will watch in horror,
i know the world doesn't work like me,
but i had hoped maybe it had,
now i'm being faced with things i've never seen,
this cruel agenda leaves me altered,
maybe someday you'll look back and see,
what it is that i mean,
life is such a precious gift, you must know,
why'd you discard it like that?
"the liberty of standing"
is there no consequence,
daily events,
that lable your thinking,
when you sedinate,
you detonate,
the liberty of standing,
walking, on two legs,
day to day,
never swaying,
and you keep your head,
so high,
why do you crawl away,
down on all fours,
i find you so unfathomable,
slither your belly down,
never raise your head,
you won't like the view much,
secretive hesitate,
you resonate,
your fear of blinking,
letting the fads pass,
the trends outlast,
your mode of transportation,
don't dare be a disagree,
or a fallacy,
never want to falter,
and you smile,
so beautifully,
why do you crawl this way,
down in the dust,
i hurt my neck craning,
brother, lift yourself up,
don't let the tread be,
your only pathway,
what is this sneaking look,
you pass down my way,
don't blink or i'll go,
straight over your head,
"positive regression"
amazing the way you can grow up,
in the thick of things,
and ignore all the examples,
that have surrounded you,
and only see the snide remarks,
passed down upon you,
and take them all as your own,
and make it a part of you,
what happened here,
i cannot believe it,
society has cured its ills,
and i do not believe it,
astounding the ways we've mastered,
of passing it down,
never a public remark made,
anywhere around,
only the home could teach it,
and make it stick,
i'm sick of all the backpedaling,
we seem to be doing,
intelligence has prevailed,
and i do not see it,
is it positive regression,
i cannot believe it,
i thought for sure,
we had hurdled it,
the clasps weren't clasping,
anymore,
now dark descends,
on the daylight,
maybe when i wake,
it'll all be better.
"James"
a star struck entry in a travel log,
on the upper south side of the James,
the waters flow brown and deep in the night,
frustrating being that it is,
a car that hurries right through a house,
a man that worries about the trees,
no lightning flashes, or drops of rain,
a nameless bruise that never heals,
and i say call a name,
and they'll be there,
somewhere hidden on the breeze,
be they dead and gone,
or almost there,
i can almost guarantee,
they'll be on the James,
a cemetery on a gravel road,
built so many years ago,
varied children, half clothed and,
diving into the water,
the Maury lingers down a path,
the Dan muddies up the town,
a girl dances, a boy watches,
as a century slowly counts down,
and i say call a name,
and they'll be there,
somewhere hidden on the breeze,
be they dead and gone,
or almost there,
i can almost guarantee,
they'll be on the James.
"sleeping at night"
where do you hide,
when the night gets to you,
do you crawl inside yourself,
or do you sleep in fear,
where do you run,
when you feel you cannot,
face everything in your path,
and it looks so dark,
maybe i could light a lantern,
maybe you could follow it home,
maybe i could warm a fire,
maybe you would rest your bones,
where do you sleep,
when the night gets so bad,
that it slips inside your body,
and attacks you,
where do you stay,
when the day turns away,
and won't even warm you up,
for just a few hours,
maybe i could strike a match,
and lead the way through the gloom,
and you would follow in my footsteps,
as long you didn't burn out too soon,
heaven knows i've tried,
and only i know how long,
when my face has run dry,
i will call you home,
maybe i could light a lantern,
maybe you could follow it there,
maybe i could open my arms,
and you would fall back into place.
"the fear in me"
one thousand words,
they all leap to mind,
like the photograph,
i have etched in me,
all these fragile things,
that i long to say,
but i am silent,
afraid of my frailties,
and when i look back,
of course i have regrets,
of being unable to say,
the ways that i felt,
and maybe that's the catch,
that keeps me away,
or maybe it is,
the fear in me,
that latent process,
it always arises,
to inject into me,
the fear of nothing,
it very nearly kept,
me from ever meeting you,
and it'll keep me away,
for awhile yet,
it never pans out,
the greatest of hopes,
the brightest of lights,
it leaves me there,
in awe of what you are,
and hating certain things,
mainly overall,
the fear in me.
"birth of a nation"
it used to be different,
life just wasn't that way,
i was young and naive,
i did not see decay,
now it seems everything,
is changing shape,
i am fearful that I,
might turn out that way,
all these things are melting slowly,
changing form and taking new faces,
things i saw from long ago,
are taking on new names and norms,
i still believe in all I did,
i didn't grow up just to be jaded,
i feel so strong, to get away,
is this really the place that birthed me?,
places, people, i don't see,
the difference in ten years, plus three,
possibly a call to arms,
to raise my consciousness from harm,
a level head, a will to succeed,
to get out of this, is all i need,
but the languid flow of this old town,
wants to bring me down just yet.
