Monthly Archives: July 2012

The Road is Long and Lonely

The road is long and lonely

Night has come

I used to stand there, waiting

Thinking

If only

Now I face that ugly crossroad, rub my hands down its spine

Momma I’m alright

Yes ma’am

Dad, I’m doing Just fine

Got them lonely feeling blues

Sad I know

Sad it’s true

But she was a stepping stone to something better

I’ll be alright, I’ll rise up

She hurt me bad, knocked me down

But I got bigger heights to go to, deeper cups

To fill

Got this sad man’s face to turn back around

And somewhere find a pretty face

To take her gaping, gashing, hole in my heart place

I’m doing alright

Doing just fine, standing tall, bearing it all

I’m ok, hurt like hell, and miss her time to time

Day to day

But that’s alright, I got this, I’m bigger, badder, tougher

She left something good, hurt me bad, but it’s alright

She just didn’t have it in her, lying to both of us

She didn’t really love, not sure she ever could

But I’m choosing my end, my beginning, my bright new day

Heading out, this lonely place ain’t fit to stay


Reborn

I am not my sorrow

I am more

I can see

Beyond my pain

Some golden shore

You have ripped and torn

But your lonely hurtful cloak

Of which I’ve worn

I wear no more

Because surely somewhere

Beyond this pain

There is a golden shore

Where nothing is the same

And all the love I gave so freely

Will in truth and honesty

Be returned to me

As I have given you

And you turned your spiteful back

I will prove

To find some love

Some grace

Something for which now I lack

Through the fire of pain

And the sorrow of loneliness

Will this phoenix find its wing

And someday

The ugly song for which I now sing

Will turn and transform

Someday

I will

Be

Reborn


The Cowboy

The cowboy knows no pain
He just rides that horse
Through winter snow, and summer rain
He rides in dust and flood
The wild of the west thick in his blood
He takes his sorrow on the chin and rides out time and again
Strength in his will
Power in his gun
Both his flesh and soul are bleached by the endless desert sun
Pale white like the ghost he is
Riding through every high and low dusty ridge
Six shooter by his side
All yonder cowboy knows
Is to ride that horse, to ride and ride
The cowboy knows no pain
Though his soul is a sad and sorrowful stain
His eyes tell truth where his silence would lie
He just knows to ride and ride until the day he die


My Spirit’s Coldest Night

All my desire is put to the flame

My every want

Hope

Care

Thought

Dream

Tossed into an ugly fire

And when at night I should be asleep

I am instead

Sinking

Ever so silently

Into the midnight deep

Of all my woe

And ugliest blackest most cursed sorrow

She has taken from me

All that e’er I hoped

To be

And yet, in this still mad quiet

I have come to realize

That to burn one

Is to birth another

Desire for desire

To rise above these flames

To rise, e’er higher and higher

To reach that long awaited place

Among the gods

And challenge them

To their face

For all their black fate

And then to find peace

Not because of all my anger

But instead because to my woe I have become a stranger

Slipping away

Into something else, something far from my sights

But for the time being I am not there in that distant land

Of promise

Of potential

Instead I am only here

In the midst of my ugly soul’s burning plight

Here

In this, my spirit’s coldest night


Just a lil fragment from a work in progress

The old beat up car ran down the sun drenched double lane highway at nearly 80 mph. On one side of the lonesome and hellish hot road was a long line of prisoners chained to one another, pick axes in hand, chiseling away at a nowhere job given to them by the decree of one judge or another. Jake tried not to look at them, and it was getting easier to do so with each passing year that Old Duke Henderson had taken the reign of his big war horse he called, “Order in the midst of chaos.”
What Jake wouldn’t be able to ignore were the telephone poles coming up, once upon a time the only messages they carried were on their wires. Now, their messages were darker, bloodier, and carried in the bounded pierced and beaten bodies of whatever unlucky soul got more than a chain gang punishment. This was the way of the world, and the reason Jake who once preached tolerance and kindness to many, now packed a forty five and a never ending thirst for whiskey. 


Neither Heaven Nor Hell

Neither Heaven nor Hell

Could ever hope

To free me from

This ugly cell

Where now I dwell

In the dark quietude

Of all I once held

Neither Heaven nor Hell

Could ever hope

To punish or free

Neither prevail

Against this heart break

Nor assail upon my gentle mind

Weak and weary

The pain, the sorrow, the woe

My soul to grind

Neither Heaven nor Hell

Could ever tell

A sadder truth or beckoning song

Than this my aching tooth ache

Within my middle

Where once a heart

Did belong

Neither Heaven nor Hell


Cry Silent Night

Cry silent night

Let loose your ugly thunder

And take from me my living heart

Your tragic plunder

Let loose oh mournful sky

Rip from this one

And let die

That sorrow born

And love stolen, selfishly torn

May yet find hope, in some land

Somewhere

Beyond scorn

But not today

Today I cry

Tear open you ugly

Thing

You ugly sky

And let mourn

This, your enemy scorn

You thief of all I knew

All I held

All I hoped and

All I ever knew

Ever knew

To be true

Let loose you silent night,

But be not so proud

To think your voice

Will over come

My mourners shroud and heartbroken plight

Silent still, be this night


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