Catch Me!

December 2005

You know, I’m going to run out of fresh things to say about these if I don’t find a new theme. But hell, it’s bouncy and kind of Belle & Sebastian-y. And it does touch a somewhat different tone than other things I’ve written: full of enthusiasm, but not quite ready to jump.

---

Catch me! I’m not falling but I’ll fall for you
Catch me! I’m not falling but I’m trying to
Don’t be scared, honey! I’m a fool but this is true
If you catch me I’ll be there to carry you.

Wake me! I’m not sleeping but I dream of you
Wake me! I’ve been out for near a month or two
Don’t be scared, honey! I’m a fool but so are you
And together there’s no telling what we’ll do

Save me! I’m not dying but that’s all I do
Save me! I’m an inch away from breaking through
Don’t be scared, honey! We’ve got everything to lose
But that’s only if it’s what we want to do

Don’t be scared, honey! I’m a fool I know it’s true
Don’t be scared, honey! I’m a fool but so are you
Don’t be scared, honey! I don’t have to fall for you
But I’m telling you there’s more that we can do

Oh, catch me! I’m not falling but I’ll fall for you
Catch me! I’m not falling but I’m trying to
Don’t be scared, honey! I’m a fool but this is true
If you catch me I’ll be there to carry you.

Keep on Dreaming

November 2005

It’s got that enthusiastically uncertain vibe that I do so well. And I also seem to have drifted into a bit of a… roots rock? … mode lately, which is why I come up a bit clichéd on the choruses. But it’s been fun to sing, and it’s one of my more inspired songs lately. Think Johnny Cash.

---

There’s a song you hear in the dead of night when your thoughts have all gone dry
And you keep on thinking till your head goes numb and you keep on wondering why
And you keep on falling down
And you keep on trying to fly
And there’s a song you hear in the dead of night when your thoughts have all gone dry

But you keep on moving
You keep on trying way too hard
And you keep on losing
But you keep on going back to the start
But you keep on dreaming
You keep on keep on keeping on
You keep on saying, babe, don’t make me sing this song

And there’s a face you see when you close your eyes that you don’t even try to explain
And you keep on talking till you’ve figured it out and your friends all think you’re insane
And you keep on looking up
And you keep on down the drain
But there’s a face you see when you close your eyes that you don’t even try to explain

But you keep on moving…

And there’s a voice you hear when you wake up cold and you color your days with your dreams
And you keep on believing till you’re scared to death that it’s nearly as hard as it seems
And you keep on breaking down
And you keep on gaining steam
But there’s a voice you hear when you wake up cold and you color your days with your dreams

But you keep on moving…

And there’s a song you hear in the dead of night that’s burning a hole in your mind
And you keep on trying to disguise yourself like you know what tomorrow will find
And you keep on looking for daylight
And you keep on flying blind
And there’s a song you hear in the dead of night that’s burning a hole in your mind

But you keep on moving…

So don’t you kill me, honey
Don’t you walk me down the line
Don’t you kill me, honey
You know you’re a friend of mine
And don’t you worry, baby
It’s all right now I’ll be fine
Don’t you worry, baby
You’ll be on my mind

Hymn to St. Elmo the Sailor

November 2005

This is my first attempt at a drinking song. I’m not entirely sure how this idea came around, but I managed to write almost all of it on the CTA going home for Thanksgiving.

---

Protect me, Saint Elmo, though I am no sailor
I’m running on seaweed and fumes
And I’m in no navy but that’s not important
I’ve no one to turn to but you

Protect me, Saint Elmo, I’m drowning
I’m drowning my troubles in booze
I’m up to my eyeballs in cheap gin and vodka
If you won’t help drink it, I’m through

Protect me, Saint Elmo, a sailor
For the deck is a-heaving and swaying
I know I’m not shipboard but I’m getting seasick
It’s making a mess of my brain

Protect me, Saint Elmo, though I am no sailor
I’m sure that you’re wondering why
There’s nobody else who can help with my problem
I can’t seem to keep myself dry.

Protect me, Saint Elmo, a traveler
My compass is guiding me stray
My sea-legs are presently rather unstable
And the bartender says I can’t stay

Protect me, Saint Elmo, I’m grounded
I’m beached on the side of the street
What I mean to say is I’m stuck in a gutter
And the liquor has capsized my feet

Protect me, Saint Elmo, though I am no sailor
Just heed this poor vagabond’s cry
I’ll shiver my timbers and batten my hatches
If that’s what it takes to get by

Chicago Rain My Blues Away

November 2005

Somehow, these things are always really good when you finish them at 4 in the morning. Even if I just can’t seem to avoid the weather imagery. This one was fun. It started out sort of Bell & Sebastian inspired, although I think the tempo changed along the way and there a bit of melody I may have stolen from the Allman Brothers. Do I even have to say it’s about a girl at this point?

---

I’ve been talking in the station of the crow’s unsteady flight
I‘ve been waking in the morning to a grey and shaky light
I could stake my reputation on my never being right
Oh Chicago, won’t you rain my blues away?

Cause it’s been so long without sunshine
I can’t stand it when the skies are clear
And I’ve been so long chasing shadows
That I don’t know what to do when one gets near

And it takes more than a smile to move me… sometimes
And it takes more than the wind to move me anywhere at all
But I’m hiding from the blue sky with my back against the wall
So Chicago, won’t you rain my blues away?

And it gets so cold in the sunshine
That I don’t even try to warm my nights
And it gets so dim in the daytime
That I don’t even think to turn the lights

But if everything I try to do is something
And if nothing that I know is nevermore,
Still it seems that I get burned whenever I walk out the door
So Chicago, won’t you rain my blues away?

Cause it takes so much to be sensible
I’d rather have a complicated twist
And a clear autumn day seems so simple
When I’m fixed upon an unexpected tryst

So I’m sorry that my thoughts are always cloudy
And I’m sorry that I’m caught up in the breeze and just a kiss
And I fear we may get snowed in before we get out of this
So Chicago, won’t you rain my blues away?
Oh Chicago, can’t you rain my blues away?
Cause I’m really not so worried when the world’s in shades of gray.
Oh Chicago, won’t you rain my blues away?

Pull Myself Together

October 2005

Built off a bouncy little stop-and-go rhythm I got stuck in my own head over the summer, which makes it feel like such a happy song. I wish it could be happier, though it sits on the cheerful, well-meaning side of a tough goodbye. I printed out a copy, and then somebody asked to read it in the elevator, and then asked to keep it. So that’s reassuring.

---

I want no one, to tell me what to live for
I’ve got no one, there’s nothing I can be
But I need only one, to put it all together
I need only one, to help me to be free

And I’ve no faith, I seek no mighty savior
And I’ve no pride, nor simple vanity
And I’m no fool, I seek no perfect stranger
I am only looking for the one I need

And I need only one, to pull myself together
And I need only one, to love me tenderly
I need only one, only one and nothing better
I need only you, if only you could see

But it’s too late, to put it back together
And it’s too long, too strange to wait and see
So it’s “fare thee well,” and beware of stormy weather
And it’s “fare thee well,” I guess I’d better leave

So I’m going away, a long, long way away
Though I don’t know if I’m going anywhere
And I’m going away, I got to get away today
And I don’t know if I’ll come back anymore

I’m going away, ‘cause there’s no place I can stay
But then again I could be right back here tomorrow
And tomorrow I don’t know, there’s no place I can go
But everything I need I can borrow

So it’s fare thee well, I’m bound for stormy weather
And it’s so long, I’ll find another way
And it’s such a shame, but nothing lasts forever
If you need me I’ll be back again someday

And I need only one, to put it all together
And I need one chance; I guess it’s hard to see
Cause it’s so strange, and it’s neither now nor never
I’m still looking for the only one I need.

Ought to Know Better

June 2005

More of a pop/rock idiom this time. A song for a time of hopeful anticipation and a bit of frustration. Been finished for a while, just never bothered to post it.

---

And all the things she has to tell me are the things she doesn’t know,
And all the things she has to give me are the things she doesn’t own,
And the only thing I ask of her is what she doesn’t show
And I really ought to know better, I really ought to know better
But I’m not letting go.

Tell me something,
Tell me I can hang around awhile
Tell me that you want me, that you need me, that you love me
But I don’t really mind if you don’t.

Because I really ought to know better anyway,
But I’m not taking good advice today.

And sometimes I try to listen for the things she doesn’t say
But no matter what she tells me I can wait another day
And there’s no use in explaining for it just gets in the way
And I’m supposed to get over it anyway

Tell me something
Tell me not to give up for a while
Tell me that you want me, that you need me, that you love me
But I don’t really mind if you don’t

Because I really ought to know better anyway
But it’s –
Well, it’s –
Because it’s –
You know it’s something but it’s more than I can say.
And you won’t really mind if I don’t.

To You (Like a River)

July 2005

A “remix”, if you will, of my earlier poem. And yeah, I know the theme has been done. But I came up with the last two stanzas and felt they fit onto “To You”. Another one I actually have a way to sing. Obviously I could sing most of it before, but the new stanzas have a different, though partly similar, melody.

---

Like a river to the ocean
Like a salmon to the stream
Like a dying man to water
Like a lobster to the steam

Like a freight train, slowly rolling
Slowly rolling down the line
I’ll come rolling to your doorstep
If you’ve ever got the time

And I’m running out of options
And I’m running out of time
I’ll come running straight to your arms
That is if you don’t mind.

Like an arrow to the target
Like a bolt from the blue
If you’ll answer one more question
I’ll come flying straight to you

I’ve got nothing left to give you
I’ve got nothing left to lose
If you give me one more answer
Then I’ll fall in love with you.

Like a coward out of danger
Like a prisoner going free
Like a hammer needs an anvil
Like a blind man needs to see.

Like a river, slowly flowing
Slowly rolling to the sea
If I ever get close to you
Won’t you please stay close to me?

Like a river, to the all-receiving ocean
Like a sailor, to the all-forgiving sea
Like the rain comes, in one ever-loving motion
Let my heart fly, to wherever you may be.

As the gulls cry, across the all-believing ocean
As the storms roll, up from the all-redeeming sea
Like a river, full of swift torrential motion
Let my love flow, to wherever you may be

Crazy Ideas

July 2005

This one probably I will have to work on further at some point, but most of it is as it should be. Something of an optimistic poem/song for me, it took a while to put together. The middle stanza actually originated separately and then was combined with the first two, at which point I had to write very little to come up with the last two, which nonetheless solidify an uncertain romantic optimism.

---

Well did you ever think maybe you were somebody else’s problem?
And did you ever think maybe you were somebody else’s troubled, troubled, troubled mind?
And did you ever think maybe you could do it again if you tried?
Or that you’d never survive?
And did you ever think maybe you were taking the easy way out?

Because, now and again, when your head’s in the middle
And you’re trying to figure how to figure it out,
Well, there’s nothing to stop you from dreaming
You might be somebody else’s craziest, craziest, crazy idea.

Would you tell me if I’d noticed that you noticed me before?
Could I tell you if you told me that I wanted you for more
Than just a simple intuition, just a simple piece of mind
And do you mind I have to tell you you’ve been very hard to find?

Because, now and again, when you’re stuck in a riddle
And you’re trying to figure how to figure it out
Well, there’s nothing to stop you from dreaming
No, there’s nothing to stop you from dreaming
And there’s nothing to stop me from dreaming of you

Well did you ever think maybe you were somebody else’s problem?
And did you ever think maybe you were somebody else’s troubled, troubled, troubled mind?
And did you ever think maybe you could do it again if you tried?
Or that you’d never survive?
And did you ever think maybe you had just about figured it out?

Figure It Out While I'm Down

July 1, 2005

I’m not saying it’s good, I’m just saying it's long enough. At this point it’s a one-night effort. Sort of an expression of frustrated optimism, doing one of those weird cyclical patterns I occasionally fall into. The indents in the stanzas that have them represent a different voice or attitude. Should be a song eventually, but the variations in the line rhythms will make it tricky to put together.

What do we know?
What do we care?
What are we coming to?
Are you coming too?
You know maybe it’s not there…

But I’ve no reason to be down here in the first place
And no reasonable reason to be nowhere after all,
Going nowhere telling no one that I’ve got nowhere to fall.

But I’ll figure it out when I get there.
I’ll figure it out while I’m down.
With nowhere to go but up, at least maybe,
Well, maybe just nowhere to go
But if I figure it out without falling down, you’ll be the first to know.

Where have I been?
Where did you go?
What are we running from?
Aren’t you having fun?
Wouldn’t you be the first to know?

But I’ve no reason to be leaving in the first place
And no reasonable reason to be anywhere at all,
Going anywhere for anyone who can peel me off the wall.

But I’ll figure it out when I get there.
I’ll figure it out while I’m down.
With nobody left here to tell me I’m fading,
Or maybe just somebody else
But if I figure it out without falling down, you’ll be the first to know.

Something in the Wind

February-April 2005

I… am not really sure what to say about this one. Very much a jumble of thoughts over a period. Originally, it owes something to “Suite – Judy Blue Eyes” but it didn’t stay songlike.

There is something in the wind
And in the January sky
That does not know me anymore
Than I know who I am today.

Yet I follow in my footsteps
Back where I have gone before
And find I’m wishing that the dawn was near at hand.

But I was born to be a gypsy
I was born to be a poet and a fool
And she was made to make me restless
Reckless wandering before the break of day.

Yet I follow in the green grass
Back where early morning sunshine
Will only make me turn my head away and wander on.

But I was born to hear the rhythm
Of the sunshine in the swaying trees
And though I know not who I am
I know more than I will ever find to say.

Yet I follow in the wilderness
Where her heartbeat moves the rivers
And the streams of time just might flow back to me.

There is something in the April rain
That tells me what I’ve left behind
And I wonder how it knows me
And if ever it will all come back my way.

Misbelieving

June 2005

A statement of sorts. With a structure that is either complex or just sort of unstable, I can’t tell. This is one that’s had bits and pieces done for over a year, so it’s something of a composite of feelings. Also, it proves that I really just like playing with words.

I hold that the universe is
Inextricably inexplicable
To itself.

And our hold on the universe
Is amenably untenable
And not so firm
As it seems.

But we are not lost until we let it go
We are not blind until we see it so

And the universe holds with
Benevolent ambivalence
Something apart from us
And is stranger
Than it seems.

But there is no hope unless we cry
There is no faith unless we try
You wonder how and I’ll wonder why
But we cannot fall until we fly

And the universe keeps throwing
Unexpected undetected
Unbeliever’s miracles
At us.

No Particular Night or Morning

June 4, 2005

The title comes from a Bradbury story about dying in space. This is slightly more optimistic, but it’s especially a good song for being up all night and confused as fuck.

---

I’ve got no sense of direction
I’ve got no sense of time
I’ve got no particular night or morning, night or morning,
Holding me down
Holding me down

You wake up to gray and don’t ask if it’s coming or going
Because you don’t really care and no one really knows
But still you think sunsets are beautiful
If that’s what it is or it isn’t, and if it isn’t, it’s all very fine.

I’ve got no sense of where I am
And no sense of home
I’ve got no particular night or morning, night or morning,
Lifting me up
Lifting me up

You go to bed in the half-light and call it a mystery
But mysteries are meant to be solved and you’ve given up
But still you think sunrise is wonderful
If that’s what it is or it isn’t, and if it isn’t, then that’s alright.

Rising, falling
Bathed in starlight
Drifting into dreams of untold intuitions
And journeys that end where they start
And I’ve got no particular night or morning, night or morning,
Guiding the way
Guiding the way

Storm Petrel

2002

Another early work. Storm petrels are a family of birds that, as I am led to understand, are capable of diving underwater and coming straight back out. The coolness and metaphorical-ness of the image prompted this poem. The meter is funky, and I like what comes out in the rhythm, although I’m not sure if parts of it completely work.

A small dark bird and a fell dark tempest
A dark wild wind and a dark blue sea
The bird is tossed by the three dark furies
Yet beats its wings upon the storm

The wind in howling hatred rises
The little bird rises in the gale
The sea’s white teeth all gnash in hunger
Wind meets sea with a dreadful wail.

The wind in fury not yet sated
Now beats the bird beneath the waves
The sea receives the speck with pleasure
To send it to its dark wet grave.

Yet up form the swell of the whirling whitecaps,
The little bird bursts alive and well
The tempest screams with awesome fury
The little bird sings upon the storm.

What Lurks Behind the Stars

2001

One of the earliest works to assume a completed form, Later expanded into a sonnet for an English class. I’m not sure what to think of it now. To me, It feels very different from my current stuff.

What darkness lurks behind the stars, that man
Should gaze so raptly to eternal space,
Like some forgotten sentry made to stand
In wait of some infernal foe to face?

And if it is not darkness, what then? friend?
Though few find friends by gazing in the night;
A thousand lamps their radiant rays out send;
Perhaps they seek for our celestial light?

Humanity then seeks itself above,
For friends and foes we have in fair supply,
But purposeless I will not call such love
For brilliant fires far off upon the sky.

My musings her mean nothing to the night –
But I must leave… the stars are quite a sight.

Runaway Train Lost Woman Blues

April 2005

This was written for a girl just familiar enough to be fascinatingly incomprehensible. It wants to be a song, but I haven’t actually figured out how to sing it.

---

She was dangerous for all the right reasons
I was doomed in all the right ways
I was falling in love like a runaway train
And she never knew what to say

Well, you’ll never get anything perfect from her
But she might be the perfect girl

Well it started ‘round four in the morning
And it ended at eleven PM
And if I had to get hit by a runaway train
Well, it might as well have been then.

No, you never will understand what she does
But you know she does it well.

It was then I started drifting backward
It was then I started drifting free
And though she couldn’t keep me from falling apart
She made me do it elegantly.

And you’ll never get what you expect from her
But she might give you what you need.

There Is

January 2005

Another philosophical meditation.

An unfortunate suddenness
To the nature of things
As they are

An impractical dizziness
To the way of things
As they might be

A most difficult evasiveness
In the nature of things
As we’d like them

And a firm and inscrutable providence
In the way of things
As they turn out.

Out of the Clear Blue Sky

April 2005

Another philosophical meditation with natural imagery. I could do with better luck on option #2, really.

Sometimes life comes like a summer storm,
When subtle warnings on the winds are borne,
When the grey clouds gather in a mighty train
Calamitous, reckless, foretelling rain
And the prophet thunder before them goes
As we stand in fields as the warm breeze blows
Awaiting, with hearts bare, the wild flight
The blessed rain
And magnificent light
Of the storm approaching.

But sometimes also life comes sly,
With the barest hint or suggestion why,
It comes falling out of the clear blue sky.

Another Misty Morning

April 2005

Poems that come to you when your head clears at 3:00 AM are always good.

It is another misty morning as I write this
Another grey uncertainty of dawn
Another weary tumble into lightness
That the clouds will not surrender to for long

There is another well-worn circle in my head now
Another quiet journey in the dark
Another wordless mystery my heart bows
Forever aimless firing at no mark.

It is another silent pensive cloud that greets me,
Assures me I have written this before
And another mental struggle now defeats me,
Assures me that I cannot win the war.

And yet another far-off birdsong lifts me
And echoes with a half-forgot refrain
Another feeble sunrise makes new morning
And nothing stands forever quite the same.

To You

April 2005

Clearly written with a girl in mind. Simple folk or blues type of melody here, probably stolen from something I can’t remember. Still, I think I can actually sing this one decently.

---

Like a river to the ocean
Like a salmon to the stream
Like a dying man to water
Like a lobster to the steam

Like a freight train, slowly rolling
Slowly rolling down the line
I’ll come rolling to your doorstep
If you’ve ever got the time

And I’m running out of options
And I’m running out of time
I’ll come running straight to your arms
That is if you don’t mind.

Like an arrow to the target
Like a bolt from the blue
If you’ll answer one more question
I’ll come flying straight to you

I’ve got nothing left to give you
I’ve got nothing left to lose
If you give me one more answer
Then I’ll fall in love with you.

Like a coward out of danger
Like a prisoner going free
Like a hammer needs an anvil
Like a blind man needs to see.

Like a river, slowly flowing
Slowly rolling to the sea
If I ever get close to you
Won’t you please stay close to me?

These are the Dreams of Insomnia

April 2005

In accordance with its theme, about half of it means something, and half of it doesn’t, at least not to me. Its title suggests its origin.

I can’t sleep and my mind is wandering
And I think of the things I don’t know
And my head is full of restless rhythms
But the time still passes slow.

I saw a mighty fortress rise
With walls of crimson flame
And a moat of steel that churned and wheeled around the flows of stone
I could not yet believe my eyes
I approached the doors alone
But the gate was barred with kindness hard and mercy was its name

Oh, but these are the dreams of insomnia speaking
And I would not mind them, no
But the ragged thoughts behind them speak
Of the things I almost know

I felt a sword within my hand
That shined with golden fire
As it flew with grace its silent face betrayed its burden dread
And it left me in a twisted land
And hung above my head
I escaped in fright but by the night I’d sunk into the mire.

Oh, but these are the dreams of insomnia speaking
And I dare not listen, no
For the jagged thoughts that in them dwell
Are fragments of my soul

I heard a bird song so absurd
That rang with truths to tell
And melody so sweet and free it broke the rainbow sky
If my heart could but catch one word
I knew that I might die
But keep this song within you strong or you may fall to hell

Oh, but these are the dreams of insomnia weaving
I cannot hold them, no
For the ancient caves they wander through
Are deep and dark and low.

I met a dragon silver-grey
As through the sky I swam
His teeth were ice and rolling dice brought wisdom from his brain
His tail was braided light of day
With moonbeams in his mane
And he spoke to me in ecstasy, “You must know who I am.”

Oh, but these are the dreams of insomnia sleeping
You should not trust them, no
For the ragged thoughts within them speak
Of things I cannot know.

Endings

Early 2004

With wild eyes to watch the winding seas
Go down into the bright darkness
As the stars collapse, exploding red hot fury
Into quiet mist as eternity stops
And infinity wheels into a pinhead, churning,
I should not be worthy.

With troubled ears to hear the sky breaking,
Screaming as the tumbling world is spent
In the cold void as the sun dissolves
Into the shadows of the galaxy shivering
Dark as infinity stretches to nothing
I should dread utterly.

With quiet mind to be the fading sunlight
Of myself upon myself and untold mastery
Drawing out all things once from the driving,
Furious, fragile flesh that knew the earth
And wind as I sink into potent oblivion
I should be content.

Untitled

Early 2004

I think I wrote this in under 15 minutes while putting off a paper. Still, it fits together well enough.

Awake, awake, the dark redeeming
Sing the song of doom reborn
Fire of old is new arisen
Fury ancient breaks the dawn

Elder still awakes the morning
Sings the long-lost songs of war
Shouts the call awaiting glory
Calls the fools to fight the storm

Long ago when men were angels
Here the battles built the songs
Now the tides of war are fading
None can tell what waits at dawn.

Poet's Prayer

2004

For a short poem, this took quite a while to get together. As close as I get to a summary of my philosophy on life.

Today I am boundless,
Infinite,
Nothingness,
Creature of spirit and fire.

Sing Hope,
Irrational, wide-eyed,
Unknowable,
Least-fortunate angel to guide the way.

Sing love,
All-redeeming
Breath of the universe
Angel, protector, uniter of souls.

Hope, be my avatar.
Love, be my advocate.

Older and Younger

Fall 2004

I’m channeling Dylan here, so picture him singing it, maybe with a mid-tempo folk-rock sort of arrangement.

---

I am older than you think I am
And younger than you know
I am older than the summer rain
And younger than the snow
And you don't know where I am
But I don't know where to go.

There are prophets on the street corners
and the devil in the wind.
And a thousand men may end their lives
Before one man will begin.
And a man may tell a thousand lies
To get you not to sin.

But be older than you think you are.
Be younger than you know.
You may survive the pouring rain
You may survive the snow.
But the way is long and arduous
The path is full of woe.

There are no signs along the way,
No map to where you are.
You will walk the path in beggar's boots,
Seeking solace from afar.
And you will find your spirit wane,
Like a dying avatar.

And the storms will strike around you
And the bandits hold the roads.
And you know the dangers you must face
If with me you will go.
You are older than you think you are,
And younger than you know.

Triumvirate (Incomplete)

Early 2004

The opening three stanzas of what could be a narrative work at some point. Mining a fantasy vein here again.

Redeem! Redeem!
Ye twilight child,
A light upon the eastern wild
And bold ye fool, ye tempest, and ye stormful child of war
And laugh to be alive
The world is ill for thee.

Behold! Behold!
Ye starlit wanderer
Fire upon the sunrise yonder
And hope to ride the tempest and the maelstrom tides of war
And weep to be alive
The road is long for thee.

Arise! Arise!
Ye fire-born angel
Time awakes thee doom and danger
And haste to guide the tempest in the wilderness and war.
And sing to be alive
The call is meant for thee.

Self-Critique

Early 2004

Would it be wrong to say I don’t think it’s my best work?

Look here!
This is useless,
Forced and pretentious,
And the message too plain for my face.

Look here!
Too much rhythm,
And rhyme without reason
No flow to the meter, no passion or grace.

And here!
This is something,
A sparkle at least
It must be drawn out, though: more impact, more soul.

But no,
It is dreadful.
This never will do.
The problem is not with the parts but the whole.

Oh this?
This is nothing.
Just something I wrote.

Nightfall

Early 2004

An exercise in fantasy.

Away! Away!
The breath of day
Is dying and the night is fey
In the grim land by your fathers’ graves

Their swords are gone
And eons long
Have washed the warriors from the stones
But a grim ward still disputes the bones.

Beware! Beware!
The torpid air
Is heavy with regrets of yore
And men are killed by stranger things than war.

Icons

January 2005

This is probably my best poetry with a political message. I like the way the rhythm moves.

Man by the infinite God is awed
For Man is made in the image of God.

And we ask for the sake of our thousand dreams
And we ask for the sake of knowing things
In the heart of hearts of the king of kings

Does God hope?

And God is remade in the image of man
So we may pretend to understand

And we ask for the sake of our growing need
As we stake our lives on a book we read
In the throne of thrones and in Adam’s seed

Does God believe?

And God is remade in an image of stone
So we may keep him as our own

And we ask for the sake of our troubled times
Though we hear it along with the weekly chimes
As we seek to atone for nameless crimes

Who does God love?

And God is remade in an image of fire
So all we fear may be placed on the pyre.

And we no more ask when the innocents die
We no longer ask why the angels cry
But we say we know, with a knowing lie,

What God wants.

And God is remade in the image of man.

Angel Unorthodox

Late 2004

Like a sonnet on LSD.

I am the unorthodox angel
An angel of hope and redemption
Born on the wind on the edge of the sunrise
Born on the tip of the thunderbolt’s fire

I am the unfortunate angel
The angel regret and repentance
Slow-rising, far-seeing, born to the tempest
Under the weight of the hurricane’s ire.

I am the intemperate angel
The angel of desperate valor
Born in the flare of the sudden rebellion,
Quick-striking wrath in the thunderstorm dire.

I am the last of the grim, grey, storm-tossed angels
And the last of the bleak, blind, storm-tossed fools.