love song

Picturesque the Parkway

Quite picturesque the parkway,

where this moment shines sublime.

All our songs to ring in peace here,

meant to share, both yours and mine.

So complete this dream-like setting.

In the light, new hopes to show.

Life's clear gracings we're to find now,

where rich colors are aglow.


Quite vivid be the beauty,

as we gaze upon the scene.

Ripe the grounds here all around us,

while the sun's rays brightly beam.

Filled with joy this blissful feeling.

Higher faith to see us through.

Life's true blessings we're to know now,

since our love came into view.


For quite picturesque the parkway,

where this moment shines sublime.

All our songs to ring in peace here,

meant to share, both yours and mine.

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After Listening To A Toad The Wet Sprocket Song








After Listening To A Toad The Wet Sprocket Song



'Tis great listening

to Air Supply; it is a 

music genre, too

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Sitting in my car


Sitting in my car, fronting moves, thinking ‘bout you

Feeling sorry for myself,

but should be carrying for ya

Black Sunday escapades 

Night driving endless pains



You make April spring 

You make the birds and rivers sing

You have the powers to repair my heartstrings 

Your the reason I don’t succumb to insanity 

(That will be the prequel to my life)


I’ve never ever seen anything as beautiful as your golden beams

I’ve always knew something ‘bout giving everything, to you

So let’s dance and sing to another never ending dream

(This is the abridged version of my life)


Your smile echoes distant spring 

and passion’s burning screams

I’ll never take anything that you haven’t already given me

(That was the sequel to my life)


(That will be the prequel to my life)

If I had another dream

(This is the abridged version of my life)

If I can change everything

(That was the sequel to my life)

I would lift that burden from ya,

that nothingness that’s life

(The nothingness of life)


Sitting watching the stars

Distant constellations of you dance far

Should go back to my car

But too drunk to go on



You control my dreams

You take and brake everything

So be a darling

And spread your soul upon me 


(That will be the prequel to my life)

If I had another dream

(This is the abridged version of my life)

If I can change everything

(That was the sequel to my life)

I would lift that burden from ya,

that nothingness that’s life

(The nothingness of life)


[Innocent brutality and violence,

instrumental and part-and-parcel to daily life?

Not if you transcend this nightmare 

To bring a different type of strife

To bring an end to life’s regrets of death,

pleasure, and sexual delight]


(Roses are blood red

Violence is you

Sugar makes you sneeze 


Life’s everlasting truth)

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When We Become The Music

When we become the music,

babe, the flowers come in bloom.

When we become the music,

babe, the sunshine claims our room.

And our hearts, they be in beating,

so together, so in tune.

When we become the music,

you shine hope throughout my gloom.


The mood now set, the wonders,

so alive and mixing free.

The mood now set, the colors,

shining clear for you and me.

For our love now so revealing,

all these vibes in harmony.

Yes, our love now so revealing,

while the songs, dear, play in key.


When we become the music,

all we hear, we'll come to see.

Heart and soul, it's never ending,

with our passions playing free.

'Cause such love, it's in the music,

and the music's where we're found.

Oh, such love, it's in the music,

splendid bliss, it fills the sound.


Yes, we're found within the music,

and the music's always true.

Yes, we're found within the music,

soundwave visions so anew.

'cause our hearts, they be in beating,

so together, so in tune.

When we become the music,

you shine hope throughout my gloom.

For a Muse to Express so much

You drive the wheel that moves my machine.

You make the days less lonely when I am weak.

You put passion in the hues of pastoral scenes.

You forgive my frivolities, and hear the call.

You steal madness away when I am gulled.

You are my everything, my all.


You, you are pretty in your pink,

And forgive the measures of the weaker link.

When I am drunk you take a drink.

Even if I'm a wallflower at the ball,

That's okay, you do not stall.

You are my everything, my all.


Your words steal the black edges of things;

And you transfix me when you sing.

You move me with poetry written at the brink.

You take time for children and homeless dogs.

You pick up my glasses and wash off the fog.

You are my everything, my all.


Yo ulack the paranoia I often find.

You make a metaphor of simple things, like time.

You are a goddess imbued with rhyme.

And I am lucky, for I am dull

And not the prince young girls dream of at all.

Still, you are my everything, my all.


You wrap yourself in your father's flag.

You never quit, or quibble, or sag.

You join me at the hip when I am glad.

It's true, I somteims wrongly lurch for walls

To imprison you, and never free you from my love.

But, simply, you are my everything, my all.


The best of me for a cup of herbal tea.  I demand

To watch you drink with your elegant hands.

We are lovers and best friends.

When I'm with you all past heartache dissolves,

And whne you're gone your letters expand on it all.

You are my everything, my all.


You are an alpha, yet you accept an opened door

And a paid check, and a swept floor.

You are an angel in the moors.

I am the ugly American who wrote this song.

I don't have money, or loving throngs,

But I have you, my everything, my all.


Your eyes are blue, or are they brown?

You live just on the outskirts of town.

And when I extoll on the vices of warring clowns

Or enter a plea for peace this fall,

You temper my fever with a gentle call.

You are my everything, my all.


My love,

My everything,

My all, in my uniform I salute you.

It's every moment for you, my beauty.


Thank you.

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Channel Surfing

I share a bathroom with a

Lion tamer who lives down the hall.

One room.

It's not a small bathroom per say

But it is just one room.

We pass the time while shitting by writing the names

Of millionaires and famous people

On toilet paper.

Anyone really.

An historical figure, the lastest craze,

They all become notes on little squares

For the two of us to read.

We ask each other the big questions, too.

Questions like if you would marry

This or that famous dead person if they were alive today.  Or,

If hell is the world's suffering

What happens to it after revelations?

Or, have you noticed that God's hand

Writes the best Haiku's,

The most profound messages imaginable

And with an economy of space?

Like, cut the kids in half, for example.

We've passed anything and everything

Back and forth over the years.

I've never met him, this man

I share a bathroom with.

The roar of his lions is enough for me.

I hear stories.

I hear that he's become something of a media personality.

That's he's very successful.

That he has his hands full.

That he's balancing a lot but

Very curious in what I've been up to.

We share one bathroom

So of course we grate on each other's nerves.

I think I've called him damn near every name in the book.

I know he's called me a few.

To sum it up his shit stinks and he's in denial.

Or the other way around

Given the circumstances.

No lie.  Every name in the book.

But he hasn't written in a while.

I can feel myself dying a little.

Days have gone by, no,

Weeks.  I think maybe a month.

Last night I broke the toilet lid on purpose.

The bastard's killing me with silence.

I've decided to do something drastic.

I'm going to knock on his door down the hall.

To hell with the lions.

No, I'm not going to do that, but something.

I have to.  I have no other choice.

I'm going to knock on his door and confront him

Before he moves out, if he's moving out.

I admit it, I need him.

Not like a pet or even 

A friend.

Just someone, something

I can't live without.

There are other, more inconsequential note passers

But it's not the same.

They have nothing to say worth listening to and they know it.

At best it's a glib insult.  To which I reply,

Good job, you found the barrel.

But I can't move out of this place.

I'm going to knock.

It's all very simple.

You see, he's a god

And I'm very constipated.

That's what his last note said to me in fact.

You're a god.

I haven't had the chance to say ditto.

Or that my compass,

My order for space,

Depends upon him.



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Southern Californian Moonlit Trance

Weaving through the juniper on my way to your house,

Making my way by light of Saturn amidst constellations,

From my front yard I think I can almost make out a mouse.

I was young when I first jumped in my car and headed down.

Now I'm nearly middle aged and the dream doesn't die.

You have thick curls, scented ribbons, and lilacs, and gowns,

And I have a dream compass that takes me to flight.

Pieces of youth trail me all the way down to the shore
But that's not where you are.  I get out of my car,

And turn for the woods and up a trail to see

 Fireflys make a city of snapping electricity.

It's summer and it's warm, and I think I lost my keys,

But that hardly bothers me because you're heaven to me.

You're heaven to me.


There's a dirt bike in a ditch, and I hit a suburban lot.

I ride in figure eights passed granmother's plot.

I hurry passed the middle school where juveniles scrawl graffiti.

I yell at the little kids who think they're being sneaky.

Then I stop at a tree, grab my knife, draw a heart and write names

Just in case you want to see it, or rendezvous there all the same.

It's old Mcallister's field where they hold the county fair.

I once took a piece of straw and held it in my teeth one year.

I was an American prince just waiting to hear

Those words you hear in movies and top 40 tracks.

I was perfect, save the small scar on my back.

Football Friday nights faded.  Grey hairs replaced acne.

But that hardly bothers me anymore because you're heaven to me.

You're heaven to me.


In town "Old Crow" is picking something fierce.

Long beards around here don't make you lonesome or weird.

A little rum, or maybe whiskey pepper the drinks at the bars

Which spill out onto the sidewalk under the crisp evening stars.

I'm sober as the morning, so I jump back in my car

And head back down the road to your three story estate.

The harvest moon is low.  The waves caress my thoughts.

It's not the first time I've journeyed for what can't be bought.

Some may say dreams are empty, but life's in the passage.

I must be a child for thinking so long and hard about your visage.

Even so, I don't mind it much, nor the late moonlit sea.

It ebbs and flows with its currents.  You're a vision to squeeze.

No, it hardly bothers me anymore because you're heaven to me.

You're heaven to me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For a girl I know named Taylor.

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Buckeye Woman

Collapse into these drunken eyes.

Darling, your mascara is smeared.

You're so beautiful when you cry.

Do you mind if I call you dear?

Life is so big, so penetrating.

It's a city at the ice caps.

Drunk and wild lets disappear

Behind the blinds of this small flat.

You skated past me so majestically

When we first met that time.

There's no more work at the factory,

But love is still sublime.

There's no more work at the factory

And yiour job prospects look dim.

You have a mountain of bills to pay

And a car with broken rims.

Baby, you're a big girl now.

It's a big world, with big problems.

Love can bandage many pangs,

But love can't always solve them.

You said you loved eccentrics.

You ran your hand down your slight arm.

You picked at your roller skates.

Your fair skin had me disarmed.

And I was fond of you 'til now.

'Til now I had something to say.

But now you're something bigger.

Someone true to span the days.

You have broken into pieces.

We sway beneath a fan.

If I hadn't caught you weeping

I'd scarcely be a man.

Janis Joplin rasps from the stereo.

The night pounds on and on.

You cling to me like a father

But I feel more like a son.

So if you're done with crying

Allow me to interrupt this embrace

With a kiss from someone dumb

As if this weren't the case.

You are tremendous in your dress.

You are a day's delight.

You are a mouse with fig leaves,

A crescent moon at night.

I am just a poor boy.

I am borken in many ways.

There's food and love I'm left with,

And perhaps your luring ways.

Don't hang from me like a cloth.

Inject life into these veins.

We're both drunk and stupid for it.

We have no reason to complain.

Kiss me by the spider's moon.

Allow me to interrupt you,

All your crying for just one moment.

A life together draws soon.

At least the promise, the simple hope.

It's come to me just now.

If I could tell you how I feel

You'd surely lose your scowl.

For you are something special,

And if one can love just once

With all his best intentions

That's something he has done.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

Now that you've read my poem please review it.  Thanks.

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To the angel Beatrice, or Jennifer

I had to destroy you so I could adore you.

I had to tell you my true thoughts

So that I could make peace with my inner beast

And not feel as though I had been bought.


I had to desecrate the bed where lay your head

So that I could lay mine next to yours.

I'm a man of great pride just hoping to retire.

I'm a virgin but that don't make me pure.


I was firmly against and truly did resent

Everything that came with what was wound.

But then you listened, and started to glisten,

Like a doctor stooped to a kid on the ground.


So if you feel like a martyr I'll read you some Sartre

To bring you gently back down to the earth,

And kiss you with longing while the sky is falling

Like rose petals by the hearth.


And if you feel disgraced just let the days

Pass by you, and you will recover.

I will count to eleven by the gates of heaven

Even if I'm ripped asunder.


I'm a kid from the street unused to leaden wheat

And fancy cups, and a lack of pain.

I'm an old prize fighter performing all nighters

And utterly insane.


But if you can forgive such a deadly sin

We can dance, two lovers toward the infinite,

While living a life spry in yellow sunlight.

Who could possibly try to resist it?


You're the princess you were the day you were born.

I am gravel, spit, and thorn.

Inside there beats a passion to reach

As the dirt washes off of my sores.


And if I could kiss you I would instantly miss you,

Collect myself, and kiss you again.

Mediocrity is simple, and easy to please,

However, not like a state of Zen.


So if you're ever lonely or have extra money

There's a man far away who deserves you.

'Til then this is a pen, a page and a man

Sending his love like a death to serve you.


You are America, the beautiful.

I'm married to my country, and the service.

You are an easing, the gentlest pleasing

To make mirth until my fever is worth it.


Love is a vessel to keep close within you

And reach up and kiss the god's.

Hate is a blank rage without conscience.

Please understand the chains I dawn.


I'm a holy sinner.  I'm not getting much thinner.

A prince and a pauper aging before your eyes.

I will replace the nest you have found best

The day you draw your last breath, and die.


Like the angel Beatrice you pulled me from hell,

And lifted me to a place I had never seen.

It's a place with gold roads and crystal warm snow

Like the America we once liked to believe.













Author's Notes/Comments: 

I took the rhyme scheme for this poem from my inspiration as a writer, Leonard Cohen.

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