lyrics and poems for songs unsung
How I hate those bare trees
clawing at the parchment sky
I’m stunned I ever thought fortune could sprout from your tongue
I stretch into my cramped pose for the day
I wipe bleary expectations off the counter imagining
green brushing, tickling
taught brazen blue
until laughter spurts into birdsong
I wanted words to matter
But all I did was chatter
And swear to change
So quickly, I fall back
into bad habits
Pulling pinned thoughts
out of my heart
I throw them like darts
at blind targets
For a moment I lose
sight of what is likely,
and imagine
you surprising me
at the arrival gate
But I know better than
to expect of others, what
I wouldn’t hesitate to do
Still, I would be ready,
I am always ready
Except for the end
Before I went to sleep
Before I washed my face
Before I brushed my teeth
Before I found my way home
Before I wandered lost
Before I searched for where to wait
Before I expected
Before I set things in motion
Before the incitement
Before your sly smile
I was asleep
What to make of an open end
Leave it to gather
mould and dust in the dark
or allow it to dissipate
and expand in an arc
of pale should haves
and half measures
dished in anorexic portions
morselled to feed distortions
grown to daunting proportions
taunting better judgement
with their glow
What to do with loose threads
hanging from words
Tie their tongues
with punctuation
or tease out insinuations
to unravel the past
and weave a pattern
to contrast and outlast
this sky overcast
with dead winter grey
We could wait until spring
and see what it brings
But we fear what is
will still be
entangled in our dreams
always dangling
just out of reach
Let me whip out some lines that will rhyme
A drainage of mind
to make this wasted time count
Let me recall it wasn’t all about that sorrow
And forestalling the fall
long enough to find solace in tomorrow
The rhymes break line and chime in my mind
’till I’m blind to the rhythm
And those wizened women chanting hymns to bide the time
Until seasons are confounded and grounds for beliefs unfounded
shift under the monumental weight of my shame
Until I abide
and give in to the tide
swelling in their eyes
brimming with brine
flowing into a fine line
thin and endless
edging ever near
Five little words
could hardly impress
with any duress
but I must confess
like a chess master
preparing for disaster
I’m already five exchanges ahead
and all the digressions
you’ll make instead
of coming clean
And though my head is full
it’s my body that aches
to make up for mistakes
and time lost
in planning petty crimes
and their atonement
the moment we are done
So take your time
and borrow mine
I’ll burrow down
and tow some lines
that I’ll retrace and erase
in case my resolve dissolves
and I fill in the spaces wrong
all over again
I am sitting outside the train station in Amsterdam, checking my connection. A distraught woman talking in Dutch (I presume) ushers a girl about 8 years old toward me. I pretend not to understand to buy time to process the request (because through experience, empathy and the near panic in her eyes combined I have understood that she needs a stranger to look after her daughter for five minutes). She confirms it in broken English. The girl shifts her back pack and sits at the table in front of me. I try to recall the moment I must have said “OK”, as the woman disappears into a dense galaxy of people, lights and cars. Two worries bump and grind my thoughts to a halt. What if she gets hit by a car? What if she doesn’t come back? Though really they’re the same. A snuffed-out candlewick of a young man wisps toward me and I smell sour soot. He too says something I pretend to not understand, because there is no way I’m going to let anyone take my focus away from the girl, no matter how calm, content and unphased she looks. I’m a dog ready to bite to protect my guard. The man asks for change again, in English. (Does everyone in this damned city speak English?). I tell him I have no euros (because I have just weighed his need against the risk of losing sight of the girl while fumbling through my wallet for the 60 cents I have left and passed judgement). He pauses as if to decide whether to argue his case, but his need seems to fall short of the effort required. He shrugs and walks off with his black dog shadowing him. The girl turns back and smiles at me but I have just spotted her mother running back, so my smile back is more relief than reassurance. The girl follows my gaze and rises to take her mother’s hand. They both stand there a moment waving and saying thank you and good-bye. But the man’s sooty scent still lingers like a trailing siren. All is not well.
When our intentions blistered
in the dry dead of winter
how we longed for the early spring rains
Now drenched we start to wonder
if the spell we were under
didn’t blind us to love’s decay
When insight starts to dawn
and beliefs are shown wrong
will you come out and meet me halfway
When the shadows are long
and opinions run strong
will you still want to come out and play
The wind blows up dust
and hints of distrust
but your smile still holds its sway
So I will lie if I must
just to keep hearts from rusting
but it won’t always be this way
In this house where I sit
chomping at the bit
wasting spit, talking shit
as if it matters
what I’d rather do
I’ll watch them grow
until they go
and leave this home
to crumble around
my sac of bones
rattling, prattling
of the days gone by
and how words
were my saviour
when the feast lacked flavour
how rhymes were my beat
when the weed was too weak
to get high
and the light was too dim to see
that lines needed crossing
not treading or threading
into loose weaved lies
that couldn’t hide
the dirt in those corners
no one dared reach
or the unspoken distance
that no one would breach
lest it reveal cracks
and lead to deeds
too rash and brash to retract
and go on acting
like all is just fine
In my efforts to cleanse
the past with time
I’m astonished to find
even ghosts
have half lives
and trace element trails
they leave
as half lies
perceived
only at dawn’s
first yawn
infecting all belief
in a new day
jotNrot 
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