Validation Mr. Young

I had to travel very close to the end to see I am still viable.
What was in question has been answered, for the moment.
What was in question was simple and innate.
The answers just as simple and innately dangerous.
I have seen my very real fears subside through a simple show of interest.

The path, like that of Dante.
The reprieve, like that of a recent parolee.
The power, like that of sunshine.
The guilt, like that of too much wine.

It was not the prize, but the confirmation of potential.
It was not the attainment, but the seeking.
It was not the right, but the threat of wrong.
It was not the overt realization, but the subtle reckoning.

Reasons for a sinner’s words, a sinner’s way, a short walk on a burning pier.
Disaster averted by a well timed exit.
The absurdity of a long ago stated phrase to Mr. Young,
“I never make universal statements”…


The Best of Misery

I’ve seen a man too lame to stand.
A strong man to weak to take my hand.
Bridges, boxes, and dogs,
dodging, sleeping and grinding the cogs.

I’ve seen the hair to fucked to comb,
I’ve seen the man, talking alone.
Carts, crates, and water,
Fathers, mothers, sons and daughters.

This man, arms to the sun
This man, no name, no gun.
This man, he’s the prophet’s voice, make the choice,
This man, making the best of misery.

What have I done, how far he’s come?
Sell me something, before the light is done.
Oranges, flowers, and beans,
Selling, begging and paid to bleed.

Where has he gone this man I know.
First and last time I’ve see his show.
Bullets, bats, and knives,
Running, hiding, saving no lives.

That man, iconic eyes to the ground.
That man, ironic smiles all around.
That man, he’s the martyr’s muse, forced to choose,
That man, making the best of daylight’s love.


A Formed Loss

It seems your world is broken
This time its torn open.
You can’t fix this pain, its all that must remain

It seems you can’t take anymore
At this moment your hoping
I won’t refuse your embrace, this race, your face

You know this feeling, loneliness,
A misfit’s last caress
You hope it is soft, so sharp, so quick.

You hate the way its changing
No real hope in claiming
You see things are real this time, no lie, in time

How can you let it bury you, just you, by you, for you.
How can you let it tear in me, righteous me, to me, from me.
All this form lost in the translation, between you and me…

Its true insofar as it remains,
The bones, the blood, the stains,
Its remains so long as its true,
The tears, the lies, the tear that is new.



A short walk,
Just talk, with me.
15 miles from home,
My intentions are mine alone,
She wanted to walk away..

First of the morning
When the light has yet to send its warning.
An ugly picture of man’s decent,
Faster I run to meet temptation.

When the light has yet to expose the enormity.
Scarcely a minute to breath.
Pick up your sin, then leave.

A dark discussion,
Just me and the mad Russian,
Disposition of love and hate,
Like steam from a city grate,
You can’t wash this away…

Before these words, beyond harmonious.
6’s & 7’s, the blood, the bone.
Arguments best had alone.

The greed outlives the symphony.
A brief cry for the cause,
Pick up your sin, take no part.

A simple dishonor,
Just you and the honor.
To locate the body,
Last seen in the lobby,
I can’t wash this away…

A short walk,
With me, just walk.
She was a silent giver,
I dressed her in the river,
She wanted to wash away…


Flesh like some

The twisting of the light while the fall,
I feel the weight of some, no all
How will you get around this day?
Someplace, sometime, someway.

The shaking of the light against the seam,
Witness the fire of the iron, against me.
How will I get over this day?
Somehow, somebody…some say.

The fading of the light into your skin,
Against the ghosts in line, so thin.
How will we get beyond this point?
Through here, through you, one coin.

Stripping your life by layer,
tearing your shame by fire.
Your flesh is not so simple to see.
The sun burning your flesh is me.



Remember before we found this interesting…









We were all about this…
















A REM classic

R.E.M. – Strange Currencies