October 27, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
The window’s left open
p r a y i n g
to find an ailment
m i r r o r i n g
this
only to find
on the face of the water
l e g s
and
h a i r
reflect one another
they’re coming in
for the season
maybe it’s just
the air
it’s nothing
a b r e e z e
can take away
this requires:
biblical f o r e c a s t s
a m i n d ‘ s e y e
a m a d n e s s
a t e m p e s t u o u s n i g h t
in the still
of fall
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July 7, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
(I’m fronting a new band, which I’ve never done. I’m nervous and excited. I’ll be posting ideas for lyrics… mostly half-thoughts.)
The beginnings of “Six Impossible Things…”:
The view from the hotel window:
murder in the traffic jam and passersby
just gently sigh.
hundreds of miles away:
reading antiquated texts and promises
that prepare them to die.
I’m an easy target!
When we can believe six impossible things
before we blink an eye.
I’m an easy target!
When we can believe six impossible things
before we pull back the hammer.
The view from the hotel window:
murder in the traffic jam and passersby
just gently sigh.
hundreds of miles away:
reading antiquated texts and promises
that they say prepare us to die.
I’m an easy target!
When we can believe
six impossible things
before we blink an eye.
I’m an easy target!
When we can believe
six impossible things
before we pull back the hammer.
If this is judgement passed down to us?
no wonder we’re lining up for prescriptions
If this is punishment passed down to us?
This is how you lighten the weight of your contrition
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April 18, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
Looking back
talking about the weather
was your eye caught?
or mine, first I thought
how odd
this constellation
in the concrete.
must have come out
too soon
fooled by the ground
warming
out of the air they dropped dead
weight
pinned by gravity
not a moment
too soon
the constellation
of dead bees
called back
“what are they saying
about the weather
tomorrow?”
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March 6, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
we were born heading
straight for the ground
and the angels took our wings!
they said:
“If you can’t play nice,
you won’t play at all.”
so we dressed up fine
for sundays
said our prayers
before bed
if there’s something out there
anyone out there?
there may well be…
(the answers to our questions
played awful games with us
hid at the bottom of bottles
in guitar strings
plagued with rust)
…I don’t know
if we’ll find them in this lifetime
I’m not counting on
my second chance
so we’ll save our conscience
for a rainy day
chasing this feels so much better
then waiting
on your knees
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March 1, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
Time moves
quickly
but we know that now-
take me back…
to smell the roses
that adorned the grave
of our innocence
the soil
we turned with young feet
blissful
tragic
complicated new dance steps
one to two
two to three
on into the thousands-
longed then to splash paint
on canvases
that would show you
faces I rested my eyes on
but there’s no time
and now everytime
I turn my head
there’s a different scene
there’s always time
but it moves so quickly
we were never meant to make it through
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February 26, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
Trains thunder by
and it scares me half to death
but there’s a man just staring
at the words they’ve printed everyday,
and the day before,
and the day before.
Skaters on the rink,
well I never had time for that
even though
I curse this boring seclusion everyday
and the day before,
and the day before.
Walking through the park
like we were children again
watching our footsteps
f a d e
into the treeline,
as if we could follow them back
to when we actually were children
the day before.
Churches stand and at their feet
the dead lay all asleep forever,
just like
the day before,
and the day before.
Blizzard on the streetcorner
waiting for something
because everyone else is running away
from something every day,
like the day before.
I’ll just hang around
this part of town
because a man can only go so far
before he can’t quite remember
the day before
and the day before
and the day before.
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February 24, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
I accidently looked good today
stuck up beauties
looking over
the smoking section
smiled at me
with approval
because
I accidently looked good today
loose hip
jazz kids
asked me to sip
mixed drinks
with them
and chat each other up
like high beatniks
because
I accidently looked good today
old sly man
in a used bookstore
told me
“minorities”
had no right to
“bitch and moan”
because
our president
is black
because
I accidently looked good today
came home
to a worn out
unemployed family
convinced
I would learn from my mistake
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February 16, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
The eyeball sun
lurches out from
under blankets
for another day
at the office
baking the ground
wherever it can
it’s a rough life
snow escapes to
tree branches
safe
ice sculpture
hangs on a bush
art made by
some madman
in the midnight
air
car tears through
slush and rattle
past
we’re destroying you
but we’ve got the
numbers
that’s a fight
no one with
a good mind
will bet on
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January 24, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
if we
sprouted wings
would big business
make us pay
flight insurance?
or would catholics
bring about a new Salem
and chop them off
before we left the ground?
would god be okay
with premarital sex
if he got laid
more often?
if socialism
worked off paper
would Joe McCarthy
rise from the dead
and call us reds?
have us blacklisted?
quantum computing
is just around the bend
information sent instantaneously!
a great human achievement?
or will my computer just crash faster?
if we could
communicate
telepathically
would idiot pre-teens
send out unbareable waves of
“LMAO UR FUNY!”
or would we see
the real problems
that chicken soup
can’t solve
I might just be avoiding the big question with this
but I’ll leave that to some philosophy major
I’ll sweat the small stuff for now.
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January 20, 2009 by thisisthepunchline
it looks like
David Bowie
fucking exploded
all over the floor
two new couches
fucked
bottles everywhere
smoke
clings to the corners
like webs of years
past
manic depressant
rambles off
sorrows
streamers
to the nonchalant
best-friend/
therapist
I wonder “how the
fuck am I getting
home?”
exchanges of jubilation
quickly
she presses her lips
on mine
another explosion
into:
ohmygod
canmyheart
holdtogether
forthisorwill
theobscenevelosity
ofmymind
tearitventriclefromventricle!
and then
it’s gone.
O the world is beautiful in moments!
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