Fireflies

Some of my old lyrics from my first band, Jetpack. Those were indeed good times.

A mock admission of silence
fatal fortune smiles,
and I have seen these
dreams collide like
fireflies inside my head.

And the ghosts of freaks walk
these broken streets with
the man who reads my deepest thoughts.

The carousel has stopped,
a beautiful disaster,
he spreads his jagged wings
and shadows fall over city walls as
he claws his way within.

He takes to flight
though the night is long,
but the circus has moved on.

The carousel has stopped,
and smiling I fade.
A new disaster starts-
still smiling I fade
away-

WIth everything I touch,
gold turns into dust.

I walk these streets within my mind
with the ghosts I’ve left behind. 
And he takes me down
deeper underground
where my heart’s the only sound.
And these fireflies
burn holes in my eyes
as he tries to hide my weakness.

And he takes to flight
though the night is long,
but the circus has moved on.

Fireflies burn holes
in my eyes,
as he tries to find my weakness.
And he takes to flight
though the night is long,
but the circus has moved on. 

Distance

Distance keeps my head in tact
and breaks my heart as a matter of fact.

Strangers hold me
to this one promise of truth-
to keep me smiling and wishing.

How I would love to understand how these things came to be.
How I would love to know the secret of you knowing me- 
of how to make beautiful things last.

How I would love to know you.

My heart is but a sigh away.
While silent speeches linger on my breath
telling me stories of past glories

true and free,
of love and tragedy.

These words paint a picture, vivid and untainted.
Background sounds down my sorrow
and keep me hoping for tomorrow.

I’ve been considering my options.

I’m trying somehow to outlast the gravity of my past.
Show me the love I have failed to find on my own.
Sail my seas and give me peace.

Then choke back,
faith attack,
until my virtues ring

hollow. 

Untitled (inspired by Pale Fire by Nabokov)

“I was the shadow of the waxwing slain,”
He begins once more in a false tongue, windowpane blue,
as it fluttered to my nightstand to flap shyly.
No truth was ever truer
then when the lies became stacked from twenty pages back.
Still the words that spark a sullen grace,
as they flicker from my lips to my lover’s in place,
thread circles taut beneath my eyes.

He rhymes sometimes-
“I” to “sky” and “strand” to “land,”
then shuffles the deck to deal them again.
His intentions specifically spelled and formed to play
like toy wagons and shovels and wooden spoons;
his hand is a stranger,
his pen a typhoon,
as he traces every shape the human mouth can make.

Then as the shadows fade in hue,
the dull visage from green to gray to black to blue-
the verses fall unbroken,
undetermined
and still unspoken.
Lyrics found from song to sound,
as they twist and pound a swinging rope
from which the dead place traps in my head.

“Express amazement,” thus I’m told
to carry on in slack-eyed wander
while the best of me may hope and ponder,
but still I’m stuck three pages past.
So, I wait-
my brain to catch my hand,
while I flick my nimble fingers across the corners
of the untouched page, untread stage.

His words, immortal, blanket the sky
and father the stars
while the peasants below,
fellows and I,
put our crowns to our backs
and watch the color fade
to black.

Back on the writing wagon…

It’s been a good year since I’ve had the opportunity or drive to write, but as I was attempting to organize the endless piles of crap accumulating in my corners I stumbled across some older works. So, as I endeavor to move forward in the delicate art of word smithery I’ve decided to post some of my existent work to get the ball rolling.

Enjoy!