sleep

Slumber awaits us

To reside in slumber bears weakness in my heart. 

 

I am not yet ready to ascertain the thoughts which dwell deep within my conscious mind, unbearing of the truth that is fortold upon diminishing it's recess, for I tremble as the witness to my own unconscious. It is here that I am forever entranced by the ideas of love and eternity, which inevitably have their own fate within my course of existence. Frequently, I wonder why such a dubious pattern of life emulates in the form that it so deliberately does. Fear lies within the wounds of my tormented soul as I try to reclaim the steps of what I've once known. My life is but a glimse of what lies ahead, a journey I know will beckon the everlasting hardships of the conscious collective. For the reasons of understanding nothing, while believing fully in the ever expanding source of knowledge from which we graze, I cease to acknowedge any bit of certainty that may lay claim to my being. Nothingness is apart of the universal collective, assimilated through light into the realm of the physical, yet transcended from the dominion that fabricates our ascension. At times I begin asking myself the questions of eternity, only to revert back to the darkness encompassing my vision, as I lay still in my bed.

 

Untelling is the way of the mind, and unparalleled is the insanity that it may bear. 

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The sofa

I fell asleep on the sofa

as if that want the plan

sleep come so rarely

i do it where i can.

 

I woke up on the sofa

with a crick in my back

pleased that my dreams 

Will no longer attack.

 

I rose from my sofa

to fetch myself a drink

i have come to the conclussion

that maybe i over think.

 

I looked at the sofa 

dominating the room

last nigh was so successful

i will be back soon.

 

I reasoned that my sofa

was as good as a bed

who's going to tell on me

now that sleep has fled.

 

I have hope that my sofa

appreciated the use

doing it's job expertly

sleep and i made a truce.

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Los Deportados

 

 

Tijuana. Early evening avenue 

Heading out to make the scene.

Walking the Calles thru Zona Norte 

Took me to see the poor people

living in the cardboard city 

In refrigerator boxes and plywood shacks.

2 little kids standing barefoot in the rain.

The shelter was blue with brown blinds 

Runaways

Junkies

Prostitutes

Criminals

For a dollar a night, you can stay.

And here among the roadside, 

The cardboard city lies.

Not a dollar a day 

Or a dollar a stay

Even with rainy skies.

With a calm calculus 

I extend my hand to the father 

“Here’s 20 dollars”

“You can stay inside now”

And the minute I did

He grabbed up his kids 

And made his way into the hostel

Is it impossible to think

That amid all the Booze 

And the drugs

And the stink

That home is not a place or a box or a shelter

You’re family is your home

Ask Dorothy.

“There’s no place like it.”

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The butterfly effect

 The story could end many ways.

A butterfly beats it’s wings in Mexico, 

and a Hurricane rages on in the Atlantic as a result.

interpret as you will.

will the father spend the money on shelter?

food?

heroin?

Banditos in the night?

and if he did, what would the effect be .

maybe death.

Did I save him?

murder him?

 

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Frost

Folder: 
Just For Fun

Frost lies on my windowsill

From winter's frozen rain

Makes waking up now just too hard

And looking out a pain

Because inside is nice and warm

With coffee or coco

Perhaps I'll just go back to sleep

And dream about the snow.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Yes, it's early, but I was thinking of frost and it popped into my mind in a flash. 

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Sleep Dealer

Folder: 
Just For Fun

Sing to me sweet angel

A child's lullaby

As I lay my head upon your lap

And dream of days gone forever

 

Can it be

Do I espy

A scintillating smile

Behind sweetly spoken lies

 

It's no surprise

I idolize

The pools of lull

Within your eyes

 

Dream-Maker

Sleep dealer

Be my fix for

 

You're my favorite drug

Lothario (Song Lyrics/electric guitar)

Folder: 
Song Lyrics

 

Yeah 

Gonna have a 

good time

You real tight

 rope walker

Gonna have a 

good time 

Greasy smile 

talker 

Yeah 

Your gonna have a good time

All right

Gonna

Make a movie baby

Alright 

Gonna 

Sing my blues baby

All night

Wrap you in my 

love song

Yeah

Gonna 

Catch me 

when the mornin come

Catch you

 when y' home alone

Teach you 

when we're all alone

Yeah baby 

 

That's right

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written as a I, IV, V blues composition.

Possibly a shuffle. 

use whatever chords you want, as long as its seasoned with single note riffs & string bends.

 

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Sailing in a Ship of Fools (song lyrics)

Folder: 
Song Lyrics

Song lyrics for acoustic guitar ( alt C,G,D)


Any given Monday you get outta bed 

Shaving in the shower race a yellow light red

Sitting In an office like a Little plastic egg

Praying to make a living

but The Man isn't giving 

A raise to a guy like youuuuuuuuu

Sailing in a ship of fools

Sailing in a ship of fools

Sailing in a ship of fools

So

Once upon a time on a little mountain side

There was a little girl who's daddy was alive 

They danced little dances and they played school

Till one day

they cops took him away

For stealing many bags of jewwwwwwwls

Sailing in a ship of fools

Sailing in a ship of fools

Sailing in a ship of fools

Well

There was an old man  every day in the park

Who talked to the pigeons

and people called him stark

Like a loooooooooooooon....

But what they really didn't didn't know

The mans a war hero

shot  five times 

To keep alive

his platoooooooon....

Sailing in a ship of fools 

Sailing In a ship of fools

 

 

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Supertramp Blues (song lyrics/electric guitar

Folder: 
Song Lyrics

If you find yourself walking 

down 

These same old crooked streets

Down

the same old crooked dreams 

With

A mind that won't keep still

And 

All you can feel is boots upon the road

But 

not in a hurry to say that it's home 

When 

You're so far away but everything's close

And

Your pocket watch broken but it never shows

When all you have is 

You're clothes in a sack 

 you're guitar on your back 

Following the tracks out of town 

Yeah

You're clothes in a sack

You're guitar on your back

Making tracks out of town

Yeah

I just might 

 

I might come back

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Deprivation

Folder: 
Haiku

I can't figure out,

My emotions are a mess.

Laugh, cry, scream or die?

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