It was a tough time, and it broke me a little bit
I became flawed and incomplete in some small way
But after a while, it grew on me. It grew with me
It became that crack in the windshield
The one that’s shaped just enough like a lightning bolt
That you don’t wanna get it fixed
How verily the summer slumbers
When winter spreads its wings
Of ultra-down so gently falling
One might call it spring
Till ice has made the veins to shatter
And eyes to shutter closed
Oh summer, where’s that loving laughter
That you once proposed?
Happy St. Paddy Cakes
You laddies and lassies
Put on your shamrocks
And raise up your glassies!
Cheers to the years
And a life full of tings
There’s green in d’ beers
And we’re living like kings!
And sure it ain’t close
To what ol’ Paddy Cake did
But the beer then was gross–
I don’t blame him one bit
Oh heartache
My old friend
I was warned that you’d be back again
Thought I’d lost you
Hoped you gone
Hoped we wouldn’t go on and on
Trudging through this sour sludge
Of Hate my life
And I won’t budge
You ugly wretched bastard slug
Sucking at my veins
Quit your games and pull the plug
That spurts my heart to drain
Run your course
Wreck my days
Wreak your wrathful wasted ways
Upon my soul
And kindly gaze
The twisted art you’ve wrought
Give me all the plays you got
Cause when you’re good and gone
I’ll be stronger for the shot
And you’ll just wander on
I’m going to tell you the world is a mess
And frankly, it’s going to hell
And I will sound smartly
And you’ll be impressed
And we’ll feel it’s going quite well
But I just can’t account
For the startling amount
Of great things that we’ve learned how to do
All I can say
Is we’re smarter each day
And quite frankly, we might make it through
We might make it through
We might make it through
Yes I really do think that we’re gonna get through
I don’t know if that’s thanks unto you
But if it is, then my thanks unto you
I’ve got boxes of thanks here for you
And parcels of thanks here for you
The shipping is $10.95
Please give me $10.95
You owe me $10.95
You likely won’t get out alive
Still waiting on that $10.95
Okay give me your watch and we’re even
Many thanks to you my fine fellow!
Hey you over there in the vest!
Don’t know if you noticed, but this world is a mess
And quite frankly, it’s going to hell
You think the world is young
You think its tongue is known
You guess you’ve grown a lot:
You’ve got a lot to own
And yet alone you whisper
With a whimper in the night
Flown the flight of growing old
But rarely going right
I wonder why the winter wanders
Whimpers through my wayward mind
Leaves me limp in skimpy slumbers
Hungered for a fateful find
Cold and lonely, holding only
Phony paper scraps to cling
Fading, window-watching, waiting
For the aiding sprouts of spring
The long arm of the law
Reaches from the body of government
To squeeze the heart of the people
Gaggling atop the belly of the beast
While the head of the church
Resting on the shoulders of its fathers
Balks at the hand of creation
That knocks madly at the treasured chest
For the blood of the innocent
Trickles through veins of ore
That fail to nourish the organization
That clutches for life on the floor
Consider me oddly encumbered
Goddily slumbered
Vastly outnumbered by ghastly pontoons
Shot for the moons, and falling up short
Calling for loons, and stalling for sport
All for the thwarting of wars I don’t fight
For the sake of supporting the chance that I might
Sometimes, as the world goes by
And I stand still
And feathers fly
And puddles fill
And meadows dry
And shadows fall from out the sky
And cast uncertainties at hand
And seasons pass
And I still stand
For reasons I don’t truly know
Watching maples slowly grow
And starlings go
And darlings die
I sit and lowly wonder why
We’re flushed waist deep in changing tides
Upon these slowly creeping rides
That never lead away from where
We came upon this tiny terre
Where we dare to stand and stare
And care for life, although it’s very
Very brittle
In a world so vast, and time so little
Whittling away our daunting days
In ever-pondered, wandered ways
That lead us back to where we came
So we may die
As the same old world still saunters by
She tips atop the frames of others
On ballerina toes
Twinkle dancing lonesome lovers
Unto catching throes
She knows, she knows!
She hears your weary dearful cries
And waits for you upon the mount
Wherefore your sun shall rise
People tell me I’m self-centered, and I don’t know what to do about that.
Care about others.
I do, I think they’re great.
Care about them more than you.
What good would I be doing for my own purpose by ignoring my own desires?
And that’s what makes you self-centered.
Seems like one has to be…
Why?
Because when I’m centered, that’s when I’m most capable.
Capable of what?
Doing everything better.
Then why not get better at caring about others?
I can.
Then do it.
I do.
Then why do they think you’re self-centered?
They must see how empowered I am.
As in…
Like a sun.
So, they’re like planets?
Kind of… Sometimes, I guess.
Little dominating, no?
Not always, it changes, sometimes I’m smaller.
So, it’s a competition…
Just trying my best at life.
What if someone else’s best is better?
All I can worry about is my own.
Is it something that actually worries you?
Uhh… sometimes, sure.
Why?
Feels like it’s off track.
From what?
Where I want it.
Are you really in charge of where it goes?
With every action I make.
Really?
Seems that way.
Then what actions work best?
At what?
Putting your life back on track.
I guess those that fulfill my needs.
Being?
Happiness, accomplishment, appreciation, I dunno, love.
How do you get them?
I dunno… by giving them?
To who?
Others.
Do you?
Huh?
Do you give those things to others?
No, I guess not.
Why?
…because I only think about myself.
But the best way to help yourself–
Is to give others what I wanna receive.
Sounds like a pretty selfish thing to do.
Then I should be good at it.
They might stop calling you self-centered…
So?
So, what happens if they start calling you selfless?
I tell them why they’re stupid.
They might not take kindly.
Doesn’t matter, I’m self-centered.
Is that caring about others?
Dammit.
Good try though…
We finished here?
Probably never.
Can I at least take a burrito break?
Will you share it?
You’re just a disembodied voice in my head…
I still like burritos.
Fine, I’ll share it.
See? Progress already.
You’re kind of a dick.
A helpful dick.
Still a dick.
You’re welcome.
The question lingers
Pointing its poky finger
Into the mushy reduction of my grumbled mind
Bantering like some mad child
Circling on his tricycle
Taunting over and over
Filling me with the swirling frenzy
Of darting fish all screaming together
Calling, begging, raging, poking
In some incomprehensible multi-dimensional
Tetrahedron of pointed vernacular
Jabbing its obsessive spikes
Like anchors into my mind
Exploding with the rage of confinement
Shrieking into empty halls of glassware
Threatening to shatter the world
Screaming “WHY!?” as creatures tremble
“WHY!?” as canyons crumble
“WHY!?” As tectonic plates devastate rural townships
In horror and desperate haste
“WHY!?” For the sweet love of flogging donkeys
Can’t I remember what I was going on about?
Make blind my eyes
And bind my hands
And cast in guise these wandered lands
Subdue the truth
Undo my youth
Unclue the proof of vaster skies
Uncast the spells and cut these ties
And give me fall to halt this rise
I know it’s lies!
I know I’ll cry
I know I’ll ever wonder Why
I know I’ll die
I know I will
But I don’t care, I want it still
Give me breath to taste the air
And give me sea to stand and stare
Give me heartache
Give me hurry
Give me blessed want and worry
Race my mind and bust my gut
And break my bones and let me shut
My eyes once more to golden sun
And glow in nature’s holding hum
To learn of love
And burn with rage
And sing of life beyond a cage
Whose bars can never bar my soul
Oh let me be once more unwhole
So I may dream the dreams of freedom
And pour the words of one who knows
That there are rules, but we don’t need them
So long as we have righteous goals
Give me one more night of starshine
Give me one more day ashore
Let me feel that thumping drumline
Let me live on earth once more
Cuddling some cumber
Under glummer-humbled bummer booms
Crumbles dumbell dooms of dumber tumbling looms
For under old encumber-tumbles
Ever rumbles golden numbers
Sundering the wonder rumples from the crumpled slumberooms
It deepens the dreams
And the revelry scenes
of pure constellation
With taut laser beams
That got through the oddery of phosphorous looms
And the utter fodder-shoddery godwottery dunes
Cauterizing eyesing icing
Every thoughtery day
Oughta boughta lotta, gotta nada
Focus, they say
We’re made of the stars
Made of their souls
And they’re made of ours
The brimfire coals
The twinkling eyes
The opposite poles
And celestial ties
Our looping patrols
Under infinite skies
With innocent goals
The instinct to rise
And unite with our souls
Listen you slumbergutting, numbertutting
Lumber-cutting thundermutt
Get your skiddle-doddled fiddlemanner
Of widdlegrained scattermasting
Out that riddle-stuttered, bitternutter, buttermiddle door!
Gutter your sniddles
Diddle your fudders
Shuttle your smitters
And witter your cuddles
And for the swee-dankle scatterbats
Of splatterhat’s chorus!
Stop changing the words in my bloody thesaurus
Oh sins
Potions
Lotions loosing lasters
Loose your luster lasso
Muster mister moral master
You are a member of the Universal Association of Paradigm Activators.
You were sent here on a strict and definitive mission to do whatever the hell you feel like.
You will be overseen in these actions by a council of supervision dedicated to absolute success; prodding you every step of the way to complete whatever it is you are arbitrarily doing at the time.
They will punish you severely
if you ask them to.
They will restrict your god-given liberties in the pursuit of a goal
if you so design.
You will be judged intricately for every action in your lifetime
if you want.
There is NO ESCAPE from the legislative requirements of this mission, be they of absolute consequence or none at all.
You have no choice in the matter but to go in the direction that you are in the process of going
And should you change that direction…
So!
In summation, you are to report here every day!
You are to do stuff. The End.
And we don’t wanna hear no guff about it.
Lest ye be guffing that guff out your own guffing guffer
You understand? Doesn’t matter.
Good job.
Help me to begin again
I’m lost and have lingered away
It cost me a lot, I must say
Please help me get back to my den
The darkness, the fire, the zen
The knowing the humour will stay
The glowing in sun of the day
Help me get back there and then
I’ll care for my heart like a hen
I’ll comfort the eggs it will lay
I’ll hatch out its love and I’ll pray
My heart be a den where you stay
And then I’ll go wander again
High upon the hills of Lion’s Landing
Billowed with the winds of Aronlee
Clad in olive gold that day lay standing
The heaving spectre hulk of Alan B.
The grip lay worn upon his haggard sceptre
The kingdom lay in ruins at his feet
The halls shall now forever reek the nectar
Beswelled by him as well his creature Pete
Oh hail the mighty righteous kingdom razer!
Regale in soaring song and tankard wines!
Beware his magic sword of Jedi laser!
And his heaven-sent Ford Taurus of divines!
So cast aside your tales of golden idols
Hold high your iPod Nano of the Free!
Forsake your worthless family, home and titles
For the sultan saviour king of Aronlee
It ever amazes—
The infinite traces and intricate stealth
Of constant delusion I make for myself
It’s a form of paradox
But none-the-less complete
That you must always first let go
To grasp what you will seek