Paper: for adelaide

Dear Adelaide I must confess I've seen the colors of that man and they're darker than the ones in his hands.
Oh Adelaide I do implore, please don't cry anymore he's not worth crying for.
It looked so good on paper yes it looked so good with words.
But child you must learn even the best damn poetry crashes and burns

Oh Adelaide, what good is a loaded gun, when you're just shooting at paper, you're just shooting at paper.

My Adelaide it's dawned on me there's nothing left to define you have to improvise all your lines.
Oh Adelaide my soliloquies couldn't bring that man to his knees and they did nothing good for me, they did nothing good for me.
It seemed vile, it seemed so unkind, the end to a once poignant story.
But on the paper it lies, a straight black line through glory glory glory.

I wanna save you, save you from the heart that he beats you on.
Save you, save you from the heart that he beats you on.
You know he blessed your name, he blessed your name,
I've got the whole thing down on paper.

No good comes of a loaded gun when you're just shooting at paper,
you can't change what he wrote, you can't change what he's done unless you're good and gone.
so put down your gun.
What good is a loaded gun when your just shooting at paper, you're just shooting at paper.
Oh Adelaide, what good is a loaded gun, when you're just shooting at paper, you're just shooting at paper.
You're just shooting at paper.

The Universal Plot

I've never been good with directions I'm just looking for protection
of some kind.
So I'll try to be less intense and maybe less confident
and defiant.
My laces are tied so tight I can't feel the words cutting into my feet
like independence and belief.

Oh, how you torment my heart with your talk of stars
and how they fill the space between my end and start.
I don't know what we fit in the universal plot I only know
it's not worth it if I'm in it and you're not.

I'll give you words of fortitude, expect them with an attitude
of caution.
I'll try to open up my doors and forget what was done before
by a heavy hand.
I've been walking on my stilts so long I forgot what it's like to walk safe and sound on solid ground,
on pavement where love can be found.

Oh, how you torment my heart with your talk of stars
and how they fill the space between my end and start.
I don't know what we fit in the universal plot I only know
it's not worth it if I'm in it and you're not.

Forget what I said about not caring for the what ifs, buts, and what nots.
I'm a liar I'm a cheater, I'm a bit of a scene stealer
but I'll give you all I've got if you can come get it while it's hot.

Oh, how you torment my heart with your talk of stars
and how they fill the space between my end and start.
I don't know what we fit in the universal plot I only know
it's not worth it if I'm in it and you're not.

Simplicity

In case you have forgotten dear, you are simplicity.
Claim to be a complex creature as long as you like
but in the grand elaborate scheme
you're a mere player.
We both are.
You speak of universe's and their infinity
your wild streak surging under your porcelain sheath
gleaming with your flash of inspiration.
You say there are black holes in my pupils
and entire civilizations in my right iris
but that each little universe is but a toy of another
much larger macrocosm
always dilated and swelling.
The swell of the universe's and the music
and the rhythm of my hips are all you have to cling to I suppose.
But remember as I said you are simplicity
you're simple
you really are.
So if you see entire universe's in my eyes
then that is enough complexity for us both.
So shush my ramblings with your lips
and move me tracing my cries with the pads of your thumbs.
I'll lay in this land with you until the brink of four years from now
marveling in how simply complicated you are
and how I have come
to love you.

August Playlist.... a little late

I just realized I never posted my August Playlist... oops

Goldfish- Joe Purdy
Brand New Sun- Jason Lytle
Be OK- Ingrid Michaelson
Let It Happen- Jimmy Eat World
I'd Be Lying- Greg Laswell
I'll Take Rain- Shirock
One Sweet Love- Sara Bareilles
No One in the World- Anita Baker
What If- Meg and Dia
Nothing Better- The Postal Service
Sea Within a Sea- The Horrors
9 Crimes- Damien Rice
Into Dust- Mazzy Star
Hey Jude- Joe Anderson
Saeglopur- Sigur Ros
Cry- Faith Hill
Lullaby- The Dixie Chicks
Callous- Ani DiFranco
The Sounds of Silence- Simon and Garfunkel
Talulah Gosh- Talulah Gosh
She Talks to Angels- Black Crows
How It Started- Discover America
Sewn- The Feeling
Maps- Rogue Wave
All I Want From You Is Love- Let's Go Sailing
Gravity- John Mayer
The Hardest Part- Coldplay
The Beauty of Falling Down- Alpha Rev
Use Somebody- Kings of Leon
Black and Gold- Katy Perry
C.I.A.- American Sneakers
D'Artangan's Theme- Citizen Cope
Plane- Jason Mraz
Space Between- Dave Matthews Band
Favorite Pair of Eyes- Steve Moakler
Dear Life- Anthony Hamilton
Damage- Chris Brown

(((( - :

You Will Fight Me in Virginia

Brambles know little of thorns.
they’re neighbors
but they don’t really know each other.
That’s what you said as I flew down the state line
between Tennessee and Virginia.
Your seemingly poignant terms were backlit
by the blistering shades of cornflower and blood red
that splatter painted the sky through the little roof window
of that big white truck.
I counted the fibers in my pillowcase creating a rudimentary lean to
against the impenetrable aperture in the wall of the vehicle.
I examined their complicated community of networking.
Social and diverse in nature
they did not divert from their calculated path.
The blue threads knew much of the white threads
and the white went on being blinding
ignoring the blue threads cry
“Take me for crying out loud,
I am beautiful too.”
It’s a bit like our situation
don’t you think?
I wish you had tried to be a little less blinding
and poignant in your coercion.
Your flawlessness detracts from this journey I’m taking.
This world of rusty air conditioners and squeaking faucets
it’s a beautiful oasis of musings.
The stone pendulum that swings in time
with the in and out breath of a miniature universe’s president
is the prodigious metronome of my heartbeat.
The sounds of my own piteous soliloquies
mix and mingle with disturbing simplicity
with the echoes of the powder men on their ghostly horses.
Galloping up and down the lawn
their hooves stamping in the places
where small coins are buried.
I feel them under my feet and in between my toes
the tin, copper, and bronze
something solid in an all too ghostly world.
I pick one up and rub it in between my fingers
letting particles of dirt drift back down to their origin.
Maybe, maybe if I swallow the coins
just eat them like sugar drops
my insides will be composed of something more substantial
than mere tissue.
Then maybe I will have enough fortitude to handle you
you and your haunting nature.
You have followed me here to this place
not on ghostly horseback or in a big white truck
but you have ridden in on the limbs of torment
in an effort to make sure
that no matter how far I go
the essence of your immortality will stay with me.
You will fight me in Virginia
with your leaden limbs of regret bearing arms.
I will taste of you with the metal in my mouth.
I will hear you calling “On!”
to those founders in their tasseled caps.
You will certainly thrive marvelously
in your attempts to be the thorn to my bramble.
But you are incorrect in your initial remark.
If I am a bramble and you are my thorn
you must reassess your meditation.
Because I know you all to well.

Man vs. Creature

Right down that street there
the one on which you’re about to run
to get away from me,
well, a couple years ago a salamander ran that way.
He was trying to get away from me as well.
The salamander ended up with a blue belly.
So when you run down the street
and pass a Billy goat neighing his laments
you’ll know you’re there.
If you start to feel a little nauseated
don’t fret.
You’re much bigger than the salamander.
That’s what happens when you run from my door
with it’s glistening claw knocker
and glassy canopy of atmosphere.
You get a little queasy inside
a sick down there feeling
like you might have done something wrong.
But I’m sure you can handle ice much better
than the salamander.
Although you are slimy
you’re not a amphibian
so really,
you don’t have an excuse for not surviving
the run to the end of my street.
In fact
you don’t have many excuses at all
for leaving in the first place.
So come back to the door
with the glistening claw knocker
and glassy canopy of atmosphere
and knock.
I’ll take you downstairs into the man cave
where the tools are.
I’ll drill a tiny hole into your head
with that medium sized bit
the one slightly larger than the one we used
on the pillow fort.
I’ll drill a tiny hole into your head
and blow some more hot air into it
so that you can leave again
knowing that your head
is far more buoyant than your heart.

Crucifix

I may think of you softly from time to time
But I’ll cut off my hands before I reach for you again.
We never touched we never really touched.
And even if we did I don't think you're capable of feeling much.

I’m your crucifix.
You pin all your sins on me,
And I’ve been struck so many times that I don’t even bleed.

You can claim I'm guilty but I'm not the wicked type.
I'm just using black magic so I have a lighter way to look at it.
I never knew, I never knew the cost,
but if I did I don't think I would've paid this much.

To be your crucifix.
You pin all your sins on me,
And I’ve been struck so many times that I don’t even bleed.


Well this has become quite the political affair.
And as for my hearts defense I'm beginning to wear.
So keep breaking me down
just call the whole damn town
they'll bring their stones.

I'm just your crucifix.
you pin all your sins on me,
And I’ve been struck so many times I don’t even,
I don't wanna be your crucifix,
please just claim your sins, pull the pins out of my hands,
I want this out of my hands.

I propose You play a More Grown Up song

I propose you play a more grown up song
one that will remind you that I defy the bounds
of your dexterous prosperity.

I am not your right hand gal
or wing man.
by go the extremities
reduce to the core of your senility's immature findings.

As This Ain’t a Love Song echoes
through the cylinders of your harsh made
boom box.
Ba boom!

The collision is such an ugly sound.
it is not one made without consequence
but in fact it is the result of consequence.
It is the consequence I face
as a result
of your childish despondency.

So I propose that you play a more grown up song.
So you will remember
that the world is not yours for the taking.
Despite what you mother tells you.
I suggest you play a more grown up song.
Child.

This Burning Home

There is a space under my battlements
that I am sure I have shown you.
Where a spring drip drops drips.
Its’ stream cool and refreshing.
I used to like the sound.
There is a space under my heart
that I let you inhabit.
You and your friends rumor and mystique
paid little rent.
There is a space under my bed
where I told you to go at night
to kick at the monsters
so that I could sleep in peace
in peace.
There are spaces wide and gaping
that funnel into other spaces
minute and fragile.
I trusted you with lock and key and passcode
I let you know
the secret word.
You said you would use your lantern to light up the dark
in my spaces
because you were afraid of the dark.
Now like the blood dripping from an adder
I’m covered in drops of your kerosene fuel
scratching at the burn marks.
There was a space under my battlements
but love
you have burned the battlements.
Now where you once found spaces
for you to play
there are holes.
Now where you used to drink
there’s mud in the water
contaminated.
In the space previously under my heart
but right above hell
there is strict taxation.
Now there is no bed to hold back the monsters
and their evil jelly eyes.
I’m glad you enjoy pyrotechnics child.
I hope you enjoy the incoming implosion
just as much.

Saved

I may have your bootstraps and your dignity but you still get to tell your friends she's coming home with me.
Just don't take off your shoes when you come in late, I wanna know I wanna know I wanna know, that you're home.
I could shut my eyes and sleep and see that dream overplayed but I'd wake up tired anyway,
so stay awake with me and ask me questions that I can't face.

But you make me wanna, you make me wanna be saved.
Oh you make me wanna, you make me wanna be saved.

Burn your cigarette a little longer for me so I can aim for the same air that you've been breathing.
There are lines of poetry on my pillowcase writing things on my face so our words are all I see in me.
These bad habits will be gone in a few days with new ones in their place, if I'm addicted to your love then I don't wanna recover,
so give me proof 75 and just take care of me.

But you make me wanna, you make me wanna be saved.
Oh you make me wanna, you make me wanna be saved.

It's not a leap of faith if jumping was your only choice.
Don't climb so high that I can't hear your voice.

Because I'm gonna need somebody to keep saving me.
I'm gonna need somebody to keep saving me.
You look like you could save, I feel like you could save me.