Great, Evil and All the Same

Covered in ivory clouds that the wind steals,
Selling to drought at a criminal price,
Let nature nurture the heavens that Satan brings,
So that tears explode into salt water devices.

Isn't it so? Minority groups gain our empathy,
Privilege the black that serves the white,
Saying you can "observe the world without God's bias,"
In your multicoloured dress, less than alright.

There's the lovers in red and the haters in blue,
With a dream and a passion twisted the wrong way.
All the same, two cells, a heart and some eyes,
Diamond to coal, up and down; change pushes them away.

"Time is a Trick Inside of Itself"

I'm staring at my bedroom window,
Watching the morning rays float through.
Debating the warmth of glass and stone,
Remembering days I waited just for you.

We've seen the dust and flames,
Dynamite fingers, staring wide,
I watch you burn, melt and mold.
Change that won't turn back with tide.

You took my hand once more and smiled,
We thought to change the frosted moon
With lips that met with too much to say,
Just wanting to feel love so smooth.

Your jealousy and my passion
With my gasoline insides, lit the skies,
All too soon ran out of air.
Brought upon us iron shoe-string ties.

With apathetic urgency,
Turned half the days to dark.
Started the rains, turned the tides,
I'm Noah with half an ark.

Suits of ignorance change with fashion,
And I feel I am lost between the art,
Gave our all to some carbon black,
Trying to neutralize my heart.

Don’t reach up to meet my pride.

Written for a contest, had to mention at least three colours an image of the writers choice:



Greens of an avenue painted over with dust,
Wilted sandpaper banister, melting at dusk.
A pipe and a hook just to hang up a shirt,
Worn every day, the white’s covered with dirt.

Knowing better than to skip a stair on the way,
To salvation that is promised each passing day.
Stumble, and your browns will turn into black,
Wits in the corners with an apparent lack
Of truth in the stories that you swore were right.
Complaining to the day that just isn’t light.

Piped and hung up on a redeemed occupation,
Browned clothes, the only to last the duration.
Inked a napkin with the letters I, L and Y.
With torn hands, it stained blue as the sky.

Smile Like You Used to Mean It.

It’s so hot but it’s raining
Down.
The sun couldn’t keep bringing the ocean
Up.
So it hid.

Sitting on a skipping stone,
At the bottom of a lake,
Where I’m safe within a body
That can’t let me go.

And it’s all chemicals,
The way I feel this way (and that).
Why should I feel different?
When it’s just a reaction.

Brought the statuette of a lion
Down.
Managed to bring my head
Up.
To face the ground.

Talking to strangers in the street about repulsion,
Positive and negatives, but opposites don’t attract.
And the cynic just wants to be proven wrong.
Staring at the ocean the sun could never take,
Thinking about how you used to make me nervous.

Could Have Saved A Dollar A Year

Cherry Pie, why so down?
Turned your circles into frowns.
Sugar topped, baked to night.
Didn't turn out alright, alright.

Fork stabbed heart, cross roads,
With faces to show the load
Of hot water experiences, cold,
Rough and smooth like Cherry Pie Old.

Your life, made up of bad choices,
Personality faults and small voices
Speak to you through my ear walls.
But you don't care to listen anymore.

Now I feel a little bad that I cared,
About your experiences you never shared,
Except to me, could I have made it better?
A gamble you'd read: forever to never.

Stupid wretch, why so down?
Turned your wrongs into frowns,
Sour aftertaste and unforgiven flight,
Never was alright, alright.

Double White Lines

My stomach's through the windshield,
Imbedded in a tree.
Your heart's been dragging behind us,
Going south.

Where we're together in the country,
Counting dreams,
Look like rivers we used to follow, heart in hand.
Hand in pocket.

My pocket joined to yours just to feel
Steady breathing,
See your words contrast the grass,
White fog.

In the cities counting deaths on fingers,
As cigarette butts,
On footpaths we'd never walk given the choice,
We'd fly today.

How I'd want to lay with this dream.
Grass in windows,
Bodies of green wrapping around our organs,
Pulling us back into the ground.

Blue Butterfly

The sun sets with melancholy.
Wondering what it could have done better,
Or worse.
Small things-
Waiting too long for a statue to move.
Crying along to songs your father used to write,
In the day, it was light.
A music shop next to a hospital.
Where you bought that guitar,
And played that last note.
The sun didn't see;
When you told me turn away,
But in the window reflection I saw that pained expression
Written in tablature I'll play once more...
When the sun can see what I've become.
I remember walking down that sterile hall,
Wishing I didn't have to leave you,
Knowing I could have turned around, and I contemplated it,
Something felt so different then.
And when the sun didn't see you in the morning it wanted to tell you:
It remembers you and
it misses you, more than it missed you in the night.