The train named elevation is leaving the station
so give me your fixation, I'll manifest a revelation
A little inspiration, creates a conversation
locomotive beat center situation
The thought so sharp, a minor laceration
the pain feels good, so I give it adulation
When negativity finds you, resist escalation.
If you want to run fast, control acceleration
brakes get real warm , glowing red,
it's only dissipation....
of the heat we create, when we recreate creation
The healing we share is my favorite radiation
so perfect requires minor calibration.
When we are done, I have the cutest abrasions
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
What my Irish Mind Sees
Here it is, another St. Patrick's Day, another lovely Irish holiday
I was raised Irish Catholic, I came up that way.
Love of song, work, and the land,
the type of work that's hard, that you do with your hands.
The warriors from pagan times, the limericks with their dirty rhymes.
Being Irish suits me just fine. I actually prefer beer to wine.
My Father loved to hunt, and work and fish
I wish I knew for what he wished
He never wanted to tell me, when we fished
Shape shifting myths about warriors of old
Fine Celtic stories, to my own children I've told.
Green is a color, that suits my eye,
Orange, is a mood, I like in my eye
The white of unity, is for us to try.
To achieve more unity, every day
To love each other, THE ONLY RIGHT WAY!
I was raised Irish Catholic, I came up that way.
Love of song, work, and the land,
the type of work that's hard, that you do with your hands.
The warriors from pagan times, the limericks with their dirty rhymes.
Being Irish suits me just fine. I actually prefer beer to wine.
My Father loved to hunt, and work and fish
I wish I knew for what he wished
He never wanted to tell me, when we fished
Shape shifting myths about warriors of old
Fine Celtic stories, to my own children I've told.
Green is a color, that suits my eye,
Orange, is a mood, I like in my eye
The white of unity, is for us to try.
To achieve more unity, every day
To love each other, THE ONLY RIGHT WAY!
Friday, January 4, 2013
Tears and Muscle ..AKA ..Love
Our lives should be written in the stars.
We wear ink just like bumper stickers, on our cars.
We build prisons in our mind,
and put ourselves behind the bars
Through tears and muscle, we become free.
These try to add from one, and create one or two or three.
Our minds are as complex as computer chips
Most people we meet, only brief, brief blips.
Once in a great while, sub atomic particles collide
And infinitely multiply the potential energy they hold inside.
Finding the match , the electron that fits
Is a worthwhile task, when you're ready for it. "
We wear ink just like bumper stickers, on our cars.
We build prisons in our mind,
and put ourselves behind the bars
Through tears and muscle, we become free.
These try to add from one, and create one or two or three.
Our minds are as complex as computer chips
Most people we meet, only brief, brief blips.
Once in a great while, sub atomic particles collide
And infinitely multiply the potential energy they hold inside.
Finding the match , the electron that fits
Is a worthwhile task, when you're ready for it. "
Part of growing things is planting seeds,
thinning weeds, and providing for needs.
Love has needs , on trust it feeds.
The deeper the trust. The more the love breeds.
Love has a speed set to cruise
Accelerate ? You're bound to lose
you will lose the love you seek
you'll THINK you're strong,
but KNOW you're weak
I have decided to live to deny suicide
Not that I ever really tried, sure I cried
yet I Always held a dream inside
The sun is too bright, the world to right,
For me to ever give up the fight.
When I sought love, I rejected false might
See, love has a might, in it's own right.
At least I've gained the gift of sight.
Love comes at a pace, a pace of it's own
Best not change the pace or off you're thrown.
thinning weeds, and providing for needs.
Love has needs , on trust it feeds.
The deeper the trust. The more the love breeds.
Love has a speed set to cruise
Accelerate ? You're bound to lose
you will lose the love you seek
you'll THINK you're strong,
but KNOW you're weak
I have decided to live to deny suicide
Not that I ever really tried, sure I cried
yet I Always held a dream inside
The sun is too bright, the world to right,
For me to ever give up the fight.
When I sought love, I rejected false might
See, love has a might, in it's own right.
At least I've gained the gift of sight.
Love comes at a pace, a pace of it's own
Best not change the pace or off you're thrown.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
The Trio
Hello people,
so glad you came in from the cold
I've got a little tale to tell,
a story that must be told.
It involves three little boys, a lady, and a man.
They were called a family, they lived in a sardine can.
The bones they can be eaten, they crumble with a crunch.
There were funny times, here among this bunch
There was another figure, usually within the house
This pet wasn't a housecat, nor a cute little mouse.
The grim reaper, himself, lived here in this house.
He hid behind tables, he hid behind chairs,
he often changes colors, he often avoids stares
The dirty plates stacked up all over the table.
The man got up, and went to bed, unless being drunk, left him unable
The kids, well they just spun, out of control.
Left with short answers, to fill the hole in their soul
I guess if that was all, that the kids had had to bear,
that might have been okay, they might have thrived while there
But there was this other side, that often liked to hide
Hatred, violence, and anger, The Trio often came inside.
They felt right at home there, among the darkness and the dirt.
There seemed to be no limit, on just how much they hurt.
The children learned to use their hands, for more than to create
They learned to curl fingers to fists, and a lesson had been missed.
For hands can create pain, they do it every day
They always go the same place, when you do it that way.
The kids were not killers, even though they had held guns.
They kids had to settle problems, like they do when having fun
It was ok to hit each other, for boys settle things this way.
There should have been a different thing, taught to them that day.
I don't think you should blame their father, he ONLY knew that way.
Over time, the Trio grew warmer, even welcoming
The people had no fucking idea, of what they were becoming
The blood it tasted vile, and yet it made them smile
You just sort of let it fester, over a little while
At least you venture outside, the sun does truly shine
You ripen, and gain color,
like a grape, along a vine.
One day you find you're free from all of this.
Anger becomes empty, hatred becomes a lie.
You end up confused, and to learn, and to learn?
Well you must try.
so glad you came in from the cold
I've got a little tale to tell,
a story that must be told.
It involves three little boys, a lady, and a man.
They were called a family, they lived in a sardine can.
The bones they can be eaten, they crumble with a crunch.
There were funny times, here among this bunch
There was another figure, usually within the house
This pet wasn't a housecat, nor a cute little mouse.
The grim reaper, himself, lived here in this house.
He hid behind tables, he hid behind chairs,
he often changes colors, he often avoids stares
The dirty plates stacked up all over the table.
The man got up, and went to bed, unless being drunk, left him unable
The kids, well they just spun, out of control.
Left with short answers, to fill the hole in their soul
I guess if that was all, that the kids had had to bear,
that might have been okay, they might have thrived while there
But there was this other side, that often liked to hide
Hatred, violence, and anger, The Trio often came inside.
They felt right at home there, among the darkness and the dirt.
There seemed to be no limit, on just how much they hurt.
The children learned to use their hands, for more than to create
They learned to curl fingers to fists, and a lesson had been missed.
For hands can create pain, they do it every day
They always go the same place, when you do it that way.
The kids were not killers, even though they had held guns.
They kids had to settle problems, like they do when having fun
It was ok to hit each other, for boys settle things this way.
There should have been a different thing, taught to them that day.
I don't think you should blame their father, he ONLY knew that way.
Over time, the Trio grew warmer, even welcoming
The people had no fucking idea, of what they were becoming
The blood it tasted vile, and yet it made them smile
You just sort of let it fester, over a little while
At least you venture outside, the sun does truly shine
You ripen, and gain color,
like a grape, along a vine.
One day you find you're free from all of this.
Anger becomes empty, hatred becomes a lie.
You end up confused, and to learn, and to learn?
Well you must try.
Circles and Lines
Draw a circle, draw a line. One is ours, and one is mine
Take a walk, find a path, like the fact it is tree lined
sidewalk lays out the way, my feet need softer ground today.
leave the path, stay on the line, find a circle, yours and mine
walking tall, arms open wide,
one love for us all, and it flows inside
night is black this time of year
all the colors live in here
pain can linger, at the tip of your finger
you can clutch your heart, you can shoot the gun
for your brand new start, you are fast, you can run
The black spot on the sun, the butterfly in the spider's web,
the skeleton choking on the crust of bread,
they were the same, The Police had said
So everything is my soul, the brightest light, the darkest hole,
the tree, the grass, even a blind mole
if I am you and you are me, we are we, and he and she,
you, me, the rock, the tree, the thing still hidden, in a distant sea
If this number of one, can get it done,
it should be this way, for everyone
Take a walk, find a path, like the fact it is tree lined
sidewalk lays out the way, my feet need softer ground today.
leave the path, stay on the line, find a circle, yours and mine
walking tall, arms open wide,
one love for us all, and it flows inside
night is black this time of year
all the colors live in here
pain can linger, at the tip of your finger
you can clutch your heart, you can shoot the gun
for your brand new start, you are fast, you can run
The black spot on the sun, the butterfly in the spider's web,
the skeleton choking on the crust of bread,
they were the same, The Police had said
So everything is my soul, the brightest light, the darkest hole,
the tree, the grass, even a blind mole
if I am you and you are me, we are we, and he and she,
you, me, the rock, the tree, the thing still hidden, in a distant sea
If this number of one, can get it done,
it should be this way, for everyone
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Confusion
It all makes sense to me, right now.
I understand my pain, where it came from, and how.
I know it hurt, I know it stung. I tasted the tears.
I have spent hours alone, days, even years.
I have alot of things figured out. I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide.
Yet when it comes to the most important thing of all, love, I seem to run and hide.
It's not that I don't need it. It's not that it isn't sweet.
It's so powerful when it visits me, I hate to admit defeat.
Confusion is all over, it's the only thing I know.
Confusion is all over, a light the path must show
Each day is a journey, the path can be quite long.
I get up, smile, and rise.I try to listen to, or, even write a few songs.
I am the one who holds the key, to the room of peace, and light.
I can't turn that key alone, though try to, I just might.
I understand my pain, where it came from, and how.
I know it hurt, I know it stung. I tasted the tears.
I have spent hours alone, days, even years.
I have alot of things figured out. I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide.
Yet when it comes to the most important thing of all, love, I seem to run and hide.
It's not that I don't need it. It's not that it isn't sweet.
It's so powerful when it visits me, I hate to admit defeat.
Confusion is all over, it's the only thing I know.
Confusion is all over, a light the path must show
Each day is a journey, the path can be quite long.
I get up, smile, and rise.I try to listen to, or, even write a few songs.
I am the one who holds the key, to the room of peace, and light.
I can't turn that key alone, though try to, I just might.
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