Chinatown

Sometimes you don't want to
Be the independent soul
Sometimes you are soft
And feel weak
Sometimes you wish
You were one of the lemmings
Sometimes you want to be
Heading for the precipice with the crowd
Sometimes it would be nice
To be a bald man in Chinatown

Days Get Short, Nights Get Long

She takes her evening walk
While the trees and shadows
Bend and whisper in funhouse ways
Red and orange leaves spin and whirl
At her feet in a carnival blur
She turns home to her book and wine
As the path fades in the twilight
Settled in by the fire for some quiet time
Will it be Morpheus or the Prince of Purgatory
Who keep her company tonight

The truth has been put on hold...

Deep Sleep

I had a dream I was asleep

At the bottom of the ocean deep

The waves so warm and comfortable

No one to wake me from my spell

A woman on the shore so bleak

Looked to the stars as if to shriek

I called out to comfort her

My lovely bed may be your cure

Slip 'neath the covers and join me here

I'll hold you close and calm your fear

When the fog lifts we may rise

And rub the sleep from our eyes

Til then we'll dream in our lover's nest

Where no soul can disturb our rest

Chain Of Being

Listening to leaves
Rattle like bones
Watching shadows
Dance like ghosts
Dreaming of Spring's
Promise of renewal
With calm sunshine
And hope eternal

Queequeg's Coffin

I've always let life wash me on it's shores
Alone on the seas of fate
With out compass or cares
Never a course or need of a chart
Confident through the storms
The clouds would pass, the sun return
And I would be captain once again
Somehow able to right myself
And start a new voyage
Until the last tempest
That left me high and dry
Unable to get my bearings
No compass or chart to be had
Exhausted from fighting time and tide
Alone and clinging to my last hope
As if it were Queequeg's coffin
Praying for a fair wind or a friendly face
At least Ahab had his whale

Between Me And The Deep Blue Sea

I sometimes wish I carved
A message on my heart
Before it sank
Like a stone in the ocean

But what would it say
This note in Mr Jones locker
That would make it different
Among a trove of such stones

Redemption Center

Thinking about my mortality
Seems strange to mention
Me of all people, facing reality
And hoping for redemption

Looking for forgiveness
More than willing to compromise
Just need a little solace
Before they put coins on my eyes

I would say I've been soul-searching

But that would imply I have a soul, and bothered examining it...

I was thinking about the many-worlds interpretation, and can’t help but wonder what the version of me who lived up to his potential is doing these days…

To Whom It My Concern...

I got nothing, empty, nada, zero. Bereft of life. Except this note to myself.

Winston's Dog

Every day like gray November
And my brain, a dying ember
As I slowly pace the floor
Winston's dog guards the door


Shades drawn and lights low
Door locked to bar the foe
My dread, now manifest
Winston's dog knows no rest


Gone are things of contentment
As I hide in the basement
Friends and loved ones kept at bay
Winston's dog, he does not stray


Tired of the same old pain
Endlessly circling the drain
Desperate for sleep, I lay awake
Still Winston's dog takes no break


So here I sit, empty and alone
Trapped inside my lovely home
Searching for the elusive key
To make Winston's dog set me free

Blame It On The Weather

Sometimes sadness sticks to you
Like the weather in August
I would like a cool shower
To rise it off
I wish I could turn up the air conditioner
And feel it's cool breeze
Carry away the weight that wears me
Down and yet, weighs nothing
But leaves me exhausted
Like the weather in August

Her: Our relationship is like a mouse one fire.

Him: You mean a house on fire.

Her: No, I mean a mouse on fire.

Him: 

Right In The Kisser

She radiates a certain sadness
Like it's in her to the bone
She carries her own special madness
Like a home made millstone

Her love would mark like a tattoo
Even though she seems so frail
I bet if she even kissed you
It would be like a hammer kissing a nail

Dreaming of God

He seemed really tired

I asked him why there was so much evil in the world

He said there isn't good or evil, there just... is

I asked about Heaven and Hell

He said they're things your Preachers sell

I asked which religion is true

He laughed and said that joke's on you

I asked him what it's like to die

He said he wished he knew

I took the hint and left him alone
He seemed really tired

Who will be my Muse

To inspire me and fire my passion
 To sooth me with a beautiful voice
To celebrate with in song
 To proclaim for me the forgotten history
To be my beloved and bringer of joy
 To teach me the sacred hymns
To show me the delight in dance
 To reveal the future in the stars
Who will be my Muse

Labours of Baldcules

Slay the Nemean Lion.
            I can't get up right now, I'll do it later.
Slay the nine-headed Lernaean Hydra.
            I swear, tomorrow I'll get out of bed.
Capture the Golden Hind of Artemis.
            How the fuck am I supposed to do this,
            I can't do this.
Capture the Erymanthian Boar.
            I wonder how long it's physically  possible to sleep.
Clean the Augean stables in a single day.
            I can't even clean myself, I'm such a loser.
Slay the Stymphalian Birds.
            Everyone knows what a loser I am, I can't face them.
Capture the Cretan Bull.
            Why can't everyone just leave me alone, I just want to
            be left alone.
Steal the Mares of Diomedes.
            Eurystheus must have told Hera what a fuck up I am.
            She's got to be pissed off.
Obtain the girdle of Hippolyta.
            What is Hera going to do to me now. Fuck, I just want to sleep.
Obtain the cattle of the monster Geryon.
            This sucks, I don't know what to do.
Steal the apples of the Hesperides.
            I can't beleive they haven't checked on me. I could be dead
            for all they know, that's fucked up.
Capture and bring back Cerberus.
            Obviously they don't care if I am dead or alive. Fuck them
            and their bullshit labours, I'm going back to bed.

In The Land Of Dreams

What do Morpheus and Hypnos dream about...

countless ears of corn, 

or sands cast on the shore, 

or leaves upon the forest floor...

Note to self...

need to write limerick about under-endowed man from Nantucket. Must not sound derivative...

Last night, not unlike Mr. King, I had a dream. Only in mine my left brain died...

...I could demonstrate its death by the way my hands moved. Generally, I can see some reason/cause for my (strange) dreams, but what are you telling me Mr. Sub-conscious?

Spy In The House Of Man

Wishing I was human
Just like Abram-Man
Before I’m six by six
In the Promised Land

They say wit is more often a shield than a lance...

I guess the question is, do you come home with your shield or on it?

Out of Egypt, or East of Eden...

I hope to inhabit the Land of Nod...

Must be time...

I have no energy
My head is empty
I lack desire
My heart is hollow
I am at a loss for hope
My soul is threadbare
Must be time to face the human race...

If you don't like the weather in New England,

Fuck you, cuz the weather in New England don’t care what you like.