We Live With Hearts A' Broken Down So Hurt So Sad So Down A' Broken

if god's on our side? hell what god 'cept that one the one i know and have known from since knowin'.

and it seemed like everyone was movin' in on broken hearts the same as kind we's all know and known because who hasn't i mean you tell me if you know but then came a hope or two for lookin' forward to in the littlenesses i've come to learn is what it is what with a pretty face or two and after a four i was down and out done drown.

a last second recognizin' kept me set for a little longer than had plannin' so i said a sure and why not because always good company for havin' when it unexpected happens so a so and like i said why not. so a walk mostly for listenin' to while hearin' talk for nervous talkin' and after a goodnight and goodbye with cloud plans full of air full of puff of smoke full i make a stop and turn but before the late night splittin' a flower. little plastic flower. before i hit the bare key lock i know where it needs for growin'. sunshine of failed love a twice over and soil of sidewalk toy from a pair what's lost its other half.

i stutter into the inside toward the to and make stop for tea and such before turning out lights for young lovers and while slow fallin' into the very most in i stop and i ask more times than once... did judas iscariot have god on his side? i s'pose i'll have to decide. little plastic flower.

spanish mitts of spanish leather?
if only but know a never.
but to be useful.
that's what it is to be.

Creatures Void Of Form Bound To Crossin' Lines

he took one long jukebox look but dropped a dozen palos and punched play all when and once he noticed they was all about leavin' and just like that with a settle in stop trot all over was a flood wave come floodin' like blood inside liquid all overs. next time to nothing he was swimmin' deep drowned was heavin' a lighter flicker back-a-forth between fire and smoke and who knows what all else when he heard her walkin' through the side door. she sat down like shrimp boat lemonade with a smirk eatin' grin and a packa' double 45's but looked like she was bus-waitin' sick or somethin' so he couldn'a help but askin' her what was on her mind. so she said suh-lowly,
-i been thinkin' 'bout short-timin' it outta here someplace nicer someplace warmer someplace another place anyplace understand?
-you ain't gotta tell me nor twice, he said. i been thinkin' 'bout sinkin' this iron home for quite some time.
-say that you'll stay.
-i promise.
he grabbed her face wise for all that could ever come next when next was an imperative lost not quite found. like blood inside. and for the very fleeting ever so brief, a next was an almost. and in that there was flowered the bloemen of the next thousand years. until the songs ran out and the time like brickforce came crashing back into lake of fire burn eternal.
-you know i can't stay, he said, a fervent regret only for sayin'. i got someplace anyplace allaplace else.
-you promised me, sunshine.
-but this ship has taken me so far away.
-i know. and i miss you more than you'll ever.
and in that instant he remembered that he had already left her standing coastal seafront rainstorm adifferent so far away.
he dropped the match.
he waited the eternity it takes.
he raised up a felt farewell take care.
and then, like blood inside, felt flames a'risen all over.

...And Your Milk Is Turning Blue

the frying pan met the unfortunate end of the oven
(over and over)
while the knives found themselves embedded in the wall
(deep)
don't even ask about the dining room chairs
(dead)
and the wedding china was just lucky
(in the other room)
if yes is a pleasant country
then no is a kitchen wrecked
if i could only change my way of living
it would mean so much to me

charmed when sprung
but after a fall just gone

you better come on in my kitchen
it's goin' to be rainin' outdoors
you better come on in my kitchen
i dare you

Improvised Organ Epiphany

the clothes, like everything else, were starting to pile up and had been for months. the hazelnuts had been roasted too hot or too long depending and were running out besides. and that wet smell wasn't seeming to let go none. but despite it all the music hit hard and fast with that snare not missing a single upbeat no not one. and it seemed like no one could keep off their feet with skirts and curls a' flyin'. all it took was those two chords to scream down the world outside, but six minutes is more a battle less a war so it was only the matter of time before that deranged guitar got locked up a silence. but if you're patient and you can hold steady the road and good luck making it through the late night piano minor key accusatory of alley puddles cobblestoned - another six minute battle but from the other side - then you get the best of bible story barn burners ever put to the reel complete with slide whistle and fire tongue. but don't forget that like all the good that gets you to goin' this one's ornery and mean like a knife without a handle and no matter how loud you scream down the world outside it's only going to scream back louder and the only thing to do is start it over, turn it up, and scream right back again. me, i kinda like getting blasted outta my skin.

if you've ever been through the crossroads then you've felt it. you know exactly what i'm talking about.

The Room Is A Mind Is A Room Is The Mind

they're coming in they're invading they're everywhere and don't they know about the stories i read when i was wee small readin' the stories what were nightmarish with eyes pictures invading oh they know they know they know everything and all.

he had passed out dead asleep and here i was drinking back leftover his beer because what's the usin' in wastin' am i right and with nights' last cigarettes when all of a sudden i seen 'em in windows and sills and edges and shells creepin' and twitchin' and back'a'forth scuttle scury into rooms and beds and dreams what once were mine but no not now but for now i'm safe and for know i'm mine but afternow is another story because it's always another story when the mind inside starts to remindin' of current situations what start to remindin' then back again of a mind inside and worry frustration shutdown starts to remind that's it all gonna be over and all too soon when the room starts to feelin' like the insides and every little tingle twitch on skin starts to feel like the end.

if i don't wake up in the morning i want you to know it was not because the bites devoured me. it was the sensation of being covered and suffocating when i opened my mouth to scream.

... to all and every a post script to an already post scripted:
wake up in the morning. please. wake up fighting every invasion and every hereafter and just please so.

A Snare Intro That Sets The Heart To Racin'

(a poem is like a naked person)*

a message to myself from who knows who
-hey, are you the guy who cannot make love?

a message from myself from who knows how or when
-no seriously body want me ok

and thinkin' on these things the both i think i find a little too much truth in these words called words because i've been all over and i've heard a thing or two not to mention seen the same such and after my years of things or twos and twelve times as many months of sames the such i think i've learned that it's important to keep a pen and a working lighter on one's person or perhaps persona non grata as the case may diplomatica may be because anything else is just baggage and we all know that's nothin' but that which is to get lost in foreign countries without a language or even a kiss when you need it most and all you can do is sit and wait with a coffee or two. which is all you can ever do. just sit. drink coffee. and if you've got that pen and the lighter you can at least write the life everyone thinks you're having and smoke cigarettes to remind yourself that you're actually having the life you're having or maybe it's the other way around... i never could tell. it's all gets so very all complicated you see no?

and then there are those oh so very nights complicatio when you're feelin' like you're still somewhere along the antimeridian central in between the halfs and halfs nots that the world has tried to make and unmake in its all oceans and seas and gulfs and lakes and dreams in a great state of turmoil when the basic structural principles are in question and no i didn't say it first but no i don't just mean music.

he quick called to slow ask
-has she heard blonde on blonde?
-i doubt it
-how could she and then not?
-i sure as hell don't know
-but you've heard it right?
-how could i not?
-then you know everything you've ever written on the subject or will ever write is already there waiting to be heard discovered experienced embedded known to the point that you don't even need to bother writing another word on the subject because it's all going to be derivative drivel an impotent hammer slamming down on dead nails already driven home
-know? how could i and then not?

and then we stared into a shared darkness for days on end until he came back with a new listen and some aidvice old
-her railroad gate?
-aww hell it ain't about her
-but if not her then who?
-does it matter?
-fuck no
-well then
-but still yo
-a gait it was indeed

it taught me something sure, but it all does and after a time it's all too much to take in. it's too easy to get buried under a feverstorm category five fire lit sunk drowned out drunk dead.

it's scary to stand on the edge and look down. but it's dangerous to stand there looking up.

*(but a song is something that walks by itself)