Some I will just post on the main page but many I will put under here,
I would appreciate them not being stolen or used
without credit being given to myself,
I am in the process of copyrighting them.
But for now you will just recieve a stern talking to.
One for my fallen brother
Drops of rain resound
Check the ground
The lightning cracks and
All is gone.
Split second
The clouds are dark & grey,
My dreams fade away
find the bottle in my belt
Swirl the glass, taste the air
Let it’s drops take my cares
Tip the glass and I breathe in
Taste the wheat & sulfur sin
Sigh of pain & relief,
Grimace
And a moan breaks the silence.
The amber stirs & hits the ground
Crows hear my thoughts
“This was for my fallen brother,
I pray to god he’ll have another.”
The crimson drips the iron rust,
My coldest fate within my touch.
Pull the trigger, tilt the glass
This drink, was our last.
Distant love song
Friday morning
Church bells ringing
Rays splinter against
Dew,
drops against
My shoes.
There’s a love song in the distance
Pulled the strings and played the notes
On my mind
Am I on yours?
Though I am doubtful
The boys keep on singin’
Do you hear the distant chords?
Our hearts are out there
Behind the dust.
I have lost hope, but not my faith
In you there is who I fell for
And I’ve looked and I know ill never find.
In time I wished for a different tune
But the theory is the same.
Snap of a snare.
She’ll never know,
Good.
Solomon’s Song
He straightens his tie, grabs his coffee
steps out of his car.
The 6 figures he earns,
will just fuel the burning circle.
the clichés will keep runnin’
and runnin’
they pour their hearts & souls
Into silver and gold,
Time into iron and stone
But they’ll never leave this place,
Paper will burn
And so will the dreams of
Firemen and Presidents…
But the man with no shoes,
Knows no more than what’s in his cup,
And that’s a good deal more than you.
Does it feel better to drop a quarter into his cup?
We never know what it is to give,
But my soapbox ain’t so sturdy.
Beauty is in the eye
Of the beholder.
Is there anything
Of which one can say
“Look! This is something new.”?
It was already here long ago.
History is just a record player
and they won’t learn
and pour its on flames
Life’s just a record player.
And dust to dust ,
There is no remembrance of old men
That of his ashes &
a faded epitaph.
The prodigal son
has it better than us,
to truly understand the top
you must fall.
Make the needle skip
Oh you few of open eyes
No longer can I hide
Behind this ink &
Choke on your twisted lies.
A man of wise & fame recalls.
Meaningless
These words and
burned down walls.
