I hear you changed your hair I hear you keep my friends around
yes we started in the kitchen but we didn’t make it down
to the rocks and stones and pretty where the magic blows you south
and I hear you keep my picture on one side of your mouth
I hear you sprinkle sadness between lines on every page
and want to be an astronaut just to break out of our cage
I hear my smoke and bitterness fills your lungs with spice and soft
so I’ll hold on to your opinion till these edges cut you off
I hear you exhale water when we’re playing hide and seek
I hear you used to shut your eyes and see if you could keep
the rhymes and all the reasons and your hand soft in mine
the pictures and the valleys and the lilt in every line
I hear you listen lonely to the songs I keep inside
the smallest piece of dreamland, only place I think to hide
take a breath and lose my voice and start to drive and then
I want you running out my head and out of all the pens
it’s strange the things you listen to if you just keep in touch
with the royal and the smallest and ones you loved just as much
I need them but I need this more so they’ll be ghosts so soon
it’s funny how I hold so tight the things we listen to
I don’t want to learn
your word for goodbye.
For endings, for after, for
buried beneath.
I want to keep on writing
the good, the things that
don’t mean you will leave me.
I don’t want to learn
your word for again.
I want every moment to just
hang like this,
a cocoon,
its own being,
no front or back
just stay here and stare,
not pretending to be
anything but now.
I don’t want to learn
your word for undo.
No regretting the things that
brought me here.
I will remember
every fight
every whisper
every kiss
no matter which clocks are ticking
no mater how tall we stand
I will sit here,
I will sing,
I will write your name in the water
when it hurts to learn any new languages.
There are too many words for goodbye.
I saw the sleeve you wore your heart on
I’m wondering if it’s still there
since I’m still yours
and there are pieces of us everywhere,
in all my old scribbles,
buried in all of your coat pockets.
But it’s summer now.
You are what I used to see in movies.
You make me a truth teller,
turn my lights out
and then you’re gone before morning
and anyway I can’t keep track of time.
Where did the snow go,
where are all your coat pockets?
Given a moment I would sew them all up for you.
You are what I used to dream in color
I can’t be here, I’m colorblind
but I still watch your sleeves when you turn your back.
It’s summer now, too miserable for sleeves,
your shirts hang on by a string.
Where did the time go?
We are preachers and sinners at the same time.
So be honest,
now that I can’t read you like a book,
write me a story.
50 was a crossroads
By jfarrell
I did have a party on my 50th birthday…
And it was decided on your votes and contributions;
And, I think, it was great!!
My first birthday party, ever
Two folks did turn up..
Definitely better than no-one.
And we spent the night jamming on guitar;
With everybody begging me to stop singing, hehe
But, it’s my party and I’ll sing if I want to.
The real guitarist, I hadn’t seen him in a couple years;
And ‘Dodge’; well he couldn’t dodge the end of this friendship…
“Jim, you’re always so negative.”
A crossroads;
A natural ending, without bitterness;
My last friends and I go our separate ways.
“The times we had were great, we gotta keep in touch….”
We, all three, nodded, big smiles…
But.. the smile never quite reached our eyes….
I maybe losing the remnants of the only last good thing I got left;
Maybe, depression, pain, clouds my judgement….
….but
Maybe…
To move on to something better…
I gotta let something, stale, go….
I can see everything,
For I am gently flying above you,
I see your smile,
I see your frown,
I see when you need help.
But I could never understand,
For here I am above,
Gently flying along, and soon away,
Out of your mine,
Your life,
You will probably never think of me again.
You hear me,
I see you looking,
You never look away actually,
I have even come down to say hi,
But you don’t acknowledge me anymore.
So I leave again,
And gently fly away,
Hoping that one day you will wave again,
And beckon me once more.
Mercantile
What do you mean?
I have heard the word
And maybe I knew it once
But not now
So I look it up on my phone
Magic?
Science!
There it is!
Adj.
of or relating to trade or commerce
Noun
a general store.
Look!
It’s dying
Right before my eyes
Left behind on my screen
Left behind in the 1920s
I shall miss you mercantile
You are such a nice word
That is trending down
Through the rough times and the good times the laughter and the jeers
In the school system Deborah and I have worked for 35 years.
Today we begin another school year and this one we’re sure to remember
Why, you may ask is it not like the rest? Because we retire at the end of September.
You see unlike the 35 others this one’s more difficult to comprehend
For this is not just another beginning...it’s the beginning of the end.
There’s a frantic kind of happy chaos that accompanies a new school year
It takes a while, OK sometimes never, for order to appear.
But this year, just as things settle down, in the twinkling of an eye
It will be the end of September and time to say goodbye.
Perhaps it will make everything more meaningful, more special than years past
Knowing that it is ending and this beginning will be our last
So as you head out in the world today here’s something I recommend
Treat today and every other day as the beginning of the end.
I don’t know what to tell you
I just feel like we are so different
I feel like all the reasons you love me are the same ones you hate me for
I feel like all we ever do is hook up
I feel like this relationship which started so innocent
Is now nothing but dust.
It has decayed and disintegrated
And I cant even remember what we ever talked about
I cant remember any good times
I cant remember anything besides being happy when you buy me presents and sad the rest of the time
I cant remember us having a conversation
I can only remember us watching tv until we decide to strangle each other in kisses
I cant remember being happy
I only remember the fear of losing you
I only remember the sexual drive
I only remember your disapproval every time you feel I’m too loud or two opinionated or too offensive
I can only remember you being annoyed at me
I hear you swear your love to me
And I believe you but I also believe we are different
I also believe that you love me for everything that makes me me
But I also believe you are embarrassed ashamed and annoyed by everything that makes me me.
So what to do
To love or not to love
To hold on or to let go?
With arms outstretched
Toes pointed downward
Her hands are tied
Is this how Christ felt?
Its endless circles
Paths that lead nowhere
Everyone is running away
Will the end ever come.
There is no beauty allowed
Crying is silent
Those with sight
Are being lead by the blind.
Is there any faith left
Those with hearts
Follow the ones with none
Where is the belief in that.
Her arms are open
Wide enough for us all
She cries for us
Is this how Christ feels?