Podium Rabble (4/2020)

Podium Rabble (4/2020)

Tragic that it takes a tragedy
to teach us the lessons that we need.
The state of the planet lately overwhelms me.
Bad actors in an essential ring, on top of everything.
Nothing trickles down from empty.
I’ve no room for judgement.
Nobody’s messed up like me.
I have only met 10 people halfway like me.
You’ll never move on if you don’t own your things.
Feet find fresh, and forget what shoulders will bring.
You’ll wish you never lied at the end of the day.
You’d have to be insane to think that that’s ok.
I throw things and wonder where they went.
I can’t whistle and my rock disappeared.
If I could whistle maybe it’d find its way this way.
Rock roll my way someday.
Swallow my light to find my darkness.
Placed it behind what shone brightest.
Their likeness.
Likened to the relationship between rainbows and rain.
Lightness and happy flood holes once filled with pain,
reflecting all the colors.

Center of a Story (4/2020)

Center of a Story (4/2020)

Slowly release this thing,
feel what tension brings.

Moving, I wind with shade
past lakes someone made.

The sun went down and my laughs came up.
It’d been a while since I smiled.
I’d forgotten what that felt like.
It’s nice.

I am inherently happy.
It’s always there, buried down here somewhere.
The morning starts a story.
Noon’s digging, scribbling.
It’s action, grind, pain, heartbreak, black, and crying.
Smiling through the afternoon,
don’t like to talk about four o’clock.
That was dying,
like the handwriting changed for a while.
Night wades in, she’s singing her song, sounds lovely.
It’s beauty, kind, joy, unwinding, trust, no lying,
that feeling, finding glory.
Night’s writing morning’s story,
until we are all home.

Humming, the bees don’t chime,
no reason for rhymes.

Living, I’m walking home.
For now, the unknown.

Until night starts writing.
Something wonderful is about to happen.
I’ve always felt it coming.

Lifelike Records (4/2020)

Lifelike Records (4/2020)

I cannot see the world the same way they do,
On and on
I have tried and it’s true.

A weekend to do whatever we want to.
Side by side
under and over the moon.

Lately, the quiet crushes me.
Silence so long I don’t know where I stand
and it’s the only thing bringing me down.
Along with how the world is.
I don’t know where to stand.

When’s the silence over?
This normal isn’t right.
Seems nothing’s how it should be.

I do not flip forward through life like records.
Spin and spin,
centered and I wreck her.

A moment to make whenever coming soon,
Hand in hand
under and over the moon.

Lately, the quiet crushes me.
All the disappearing.
Slowing all the spinning.

Mustache Sunday (4/2020)

Mustache Sunday (4/2020)

Walk outside with a mustache,
Sacred stands on water on my back.
The feeling it’s been a while.

Zip around as the sun lags.
Spinning head, a body in my bag.
The notion I’m alone here.

Shouldn’t have brought you up that mountain.
Didn’t know that would happen.
What’s that about life’s fountain?
My friend, you can trust me.
I’m just out here to wander.
Hey man, get your feet off my water.

Stand up here on an old bed,
meaning there depends on how it’s read.
They say it was an ocean.

Glide on top of a shell farm,
distant eyes watching the world get harmed.
Who is believing your story?

Walked outside with a mustache.
I didn’t know that would happen.

Well. (4/2020)

Well. (4/2020)

Who bought all the Claussens?
Who destroyed this shelf?
Walking out with frozen shrimp
cause there is nothing else.

Where’s the macaroni?
Where’s the goddamn cheese?
Left that place with lemonade,
and forgot to get me.

Clyde’s outside, he’s wiping down the world.
Divided is the airwaves,
the speaking that stumbles from tubes
across the country’s confusing.

Tell me which one’s the truth?
Why’s the news so different?

Why is there no hummus?
Why’s the milk all gone?
Carts roll at a rapid pace,
the masks say something’s wrong.

What if there’s no broccoli?
What the hell is that?
Microwave some stuff tonight,
tomorrow I’ll come back.

Thoughts 76 (4/2020)

Thoughts 76 (4/2020)

Nothing in the mind tonight.
I’m tired.
This would be art, but it’s me.
Feel alone a lot, not free.
Back to it.
I’m the one who falls off track. Now you do it?
I can take it. These people are unproven.
You’re the world man. You blew it.
Whenever I’m makin’ changes.
That wasn’t right, and you know, and you knew it.
You got everyone this time
and somehow some don’t know it.
Huddled up on beaches. Where’s a tidal wave?
People in charge, and people on beaches,
please go back to your caves.
We got it this.
This is so simple, this is so hard.
I’ve never wished more that I had a yard.
Dirt or sand or water or grass.
Lay outside, get some sun on my ass.
Yesterday felt like a year, and one that didn’t walk fast.
‘Reopen all the beaches.’
swear reality’s out of reach for them.
They know that’s not gonna slow it?
Their money begged for the ball and got it.
And they dropped it.
It’s real, they dropped it everywhere.
Make some more, do not care.
Just like, jump off a building.
Or atleast stop speaking.
Lose your phones and computers.
It’s not fake news, you’re a loser.
Nothing near a leader.
Liberty, grace, freedom. You don’t feed her.
Split sides? It’s a virus, why divided?
We gotta get together.

It’s not on you, but you’re not helping
anybody’s well being.
For the life of me,
can’t imagine four more years of you.
Your lying has people crying.
I love kids, but your kids suck.

Stop talking.
Get upset thinking about you,
and you’re always on the news.

It Could Be Any Day Right Now (4/2020)

It Could Be Any Day Right Now (4/2020)

Dreams come true, and people die.
Fall in love and lose my mind.
Town to school, happy birthday, gone.
It walked away, and I wrote a song.

Pull myself together, trip and break my body.
I say I am nice, police tell Santa naughty.
Jump on the road as the world disappears.
Beads from above while I’m stomping my fears.

I’ve got a map, and on it is hell.
I’ve got a map, oh I know it so well.
I’ve got a map that I’ve memorized.
I’ve got a map that I sketched myself.

And I didn’t mean to do any of that,
just needed a little help.
It’s nice to not go back there.

Things are life, and then they’re not.
She stole me and was not caught.
Waited ten years and dove in too early.
Sun faded ink where I wrote this word thing.

Found some free and snapped a leg.
Talk to myself and forget what was said.
Like to know what will happen, so I’m afraid to sleep.
And, I don’t know why I write these things.

It’s nice to not go back there.
Fix the world, get me out of here.