Yes no maybe so
Will you stay or will you go
You’ve made it clear
That I should fear
The second that you don’t respond
A guarantee that you’ll be gone
Yes no maybe so
On for tonight? I’ll let you know
Patient for my patient
A doctor stationed
On call and waiting for your decision
So I can make a quick incision
Into my self-worth to keep me home
Waiting for you on cradled phone
Cut from me some pride
Once you manage to decide
Yes no maybe so
“Wish I was there,” no you don’t.
Will you stay? Just fucking go.
Humdrum
Is it possible to live like this?
I guess. It’s tolerable at best
Little enchanting and some distress
Averaging out to an existence under slight duress I confess I thought I had enough finesse to live a life a little more impressive.
A life made of mediocrity coalesced is something sort of blessed but also a curse. You accept all the middle ground in the universe and then you’re laid down cold in a hearse with a tombstone that says “Never best, never worst.”
Neutrality is a poison, I think..is it really what you would drink if you could have chosen?
Kill the art
If I compare thee to, everything you, have heard before
If I say your love, reminds me of, some kind of metaphor
Something I want more, something I adore, isn’t that a bore
If I compare it with, an ancient myth, and an old-time war
It’s not what you look for, not something to explore
You want the chaos of shores, walls steep to climb
Not old books from old times, with old looks and old rhymes
Old holds on old hearts will just keep us apart
Kill the art. Play it smart, don’t text back, let it start.
Treasured
When was the last time x marked the spot
and you got what you sought, at your leisure?
when was the last time you were looked at
without being measured, just for pleasure?
looked at not as a tool, a means to an end
but as gold and jewels, as treasure.
as more than a friend, better
with someone that carries you, unwary you
reveals you finally, shiningly blindingly
like buried treasure, has someone ever treated you better?
they better.
whether you’re showing off gems or buried
in the oldest sweater.
no matter how much land and sand and weather
keeps you under, keeps us not together
remember for me you are buried treasure.
Roses
she’s a little shy I’m overzealous
she’s a little too pretty I’m petty
or maybe overjealous
she’s a perfect painted rose
sky high on my trellis
and all I can tell is
all I can tell her,
well, is try to sell her
on the combination
of grounded and stellar
rooftops and cellar
and anything can grow into a bouquet
if you give it a while
but instead I go and just say
she has a beautiful smile
and she smiles
Like to Like you
Feeling feelings liking liking
Feeling like liking you
Liking how I like you
Liking to like someone like you
Liking to feel, feeling real
Really feeling real feelings
A feeling is a feeling even if it’s
Feeling the feeling of liking to feel feelings
4 years until the sunrise
You don’t know what colors will have arisen
From this prison
You don’t know you don’t know the vibrancy of what’s alive in me
“No more hide and seek” it cries in me
You don’t know just wait and see
The vacancy
We will fill pools we’re out of your cage, we will spill cool over fires of rage
And sisters and mothers and brothers and others will smother
The sinister pyre of what we’ve discovered
The hate we now know will be brought down
Into ashes and fly up
And when we’re released from the bars rise up
When we cease to be jarred rise up
Feathered and tarred rise up
Our hearts are unmarred, rise up,
There’s a fire to tend.
We’ve risen from this prison before. Rise again.
Nostalgia
one touch one lasts for years one crutch to last me years
time has passed me here, you have lasted here
I didn’t ask you here, but you are vastly here
one word one lasts for years once heard stays in my ears
time goes but I cradle it, you erode but I coddle it, water it
you last for years are you you are years
one person stagnating, it’s dated not dating
time has expired but I’m waiting, I have acquired
nothing new naught but you I’ve amassed you here
It can last me here
you are years
Radiocism
masses longing to be seen, humbled by tightly constrained means
it’s the radio silenced, what is and what seems, actions rebuffed, made static, unrooted.
it’s the sounds and the means and the lies and the disputed
blind eyes towards unseen and the cries of the muted
hands tied by unclean, hands paid to look pleasant
the clarity of the past and the tricks of the present
the rarity of knowledge and the quick fix of the bandaids
the quick mix of the melting pot, quickly stirred as the past fades
a sadder flag unfurled over the shade of the motels outside Disneyworld,
a ladder here uncurls
ready to meet those with certain shapes of feats,
suede or leather too but not a tennis shoe
a cripple, a tip or a carefully constructed cinderella slipper
inside the gates of disneyworld, tempered to avoid outrage and factions
princesses based on affirmative action, it’s the result and the cause
and the play and the pause, we’re given a voice and then quietly smothered
as they’re hitting one button while pretending the other
yelling Odyssean debates so the public sees it and relates
lamenting with wails the loss it entails
the farce we see of job scarcity
the lie headed to being so deeply embedded that
we read it and talk it, walk it and tweet it, believing we
don’t have what’s in our pocket
a crock of melting pot stew disintegrating the you
drowning defenses
pouring into a bowl of pretenses
to cool for a while
topped liberally with a shit eating smile.
[Learn more about the Disneyland motels here or watch Homeless: The Motel Kids of Orange County.]
erosyche 