Imbibe

Quantum
When did you become red?
I don’t remember you being this color
and I’m sure
you didn’t start out this way.
I guess it doesn’t matter,
as long as you
get me out of here alive.

Ancestral Home
I won’t be celebrated for this
that era of idolizing vices
has finally passes
along with the linger lights
of The Algonquin

Names like Rozario and Murphy
will never reach the summits
that Floridita and Vesuvio
But that’s not entirely my fault
you know you don’t deserve it
just as much as me

Free Beer Tomorrow
You ordered another
and you made absolutely sure
that I knew you had meant it.
As if I wanted to be sober either

I licked my lips
specifically the split I always got
come winter.
The one you never mentioned,
except for those few times.

You told me why I chose you
That I didn’t want to be blamed
when it came to an end
and with you, I wouldn’t have to
worry about that.

I ask if you’re going
to have another drink
and you tell me no.

You’ll blame me for tomorrow..

…From The River

The Arrows Will Block Out The Sun

You’re not my first love
and if I ever find myself sleeping
next to your shadow
I will most likely love again

I suppose it’s why I linger
in these moments
the waiting between stations

If you’re willing
to hold back your shadow
I’d be honored
to have you wait with me

St. Louis Beer

The river isn’t so black today
it’s been browned
with the echoes of a patriot’s holiday
I can no longer confuse it or a second sky
and the reflection of the trees
that line the banks
don’t hold darker secrets
like they did last week

That earthen bouquet is gone
and all that remains is St. Louis beer.

There Will Be Howling

No one came to me last night
which was a great shame
I’ve been looking
for someone I can boast to
you didn’t think I could do it
but it turns out
I’m good at being an honest man

Don’t worry, I was surprised too
I never expected to be reach out
and touch something real
I wish I could show you what it was
but believe me
it’s there and as real
as fire in the evening sky

There’s no denying
that this all took me
a little too long to figure out
and I guess it shouldn’t have been
a trial at all
But I can actually fulfill those promises
as long as you remind me
of what they all were

Hurry, before the moon comes back.

Softly Spoken Armageddons

Wait for it. Wait for it… Wait for it. There. Did you see it? It’s understandable if you didn’t. It happened pretty quick. No one would blame you for blinking and letting it slip past you, never to be in a place where it could be noticed again. It’s cheating, you know, but if you’re still oblivious to what had been in your hands, here’s the answer: That was the moment that it all came to an end.

Untitled Number Forever

 

You say you’ve never heard of Brian Fallon
but his anthems were behind my eyes
when you found me bright and wide
when you stumbled out our bed
for one last time in the evening sky
his crowes came for what you left behind

it wasn’t as horrible as it sounds
I just don’t go to that side of town

I heard from a friend that he treats you well
that he’s not into the same painkillers as I was
I found a few myself I could try and love
and I laugh from time to time
When I think about how nice it’s been
when we finally admitted it had to end

And if you’re sleepwalking don’t worry about it
I remember all those hiding spots from when we were kids

 

Copeland’s Fire

I started visiting Copeland after his parents had died. I guess we were always friends, it just always felt more like we both orbited a similar group of people but always remained on opposite hemispheres from each other. I wish I could say that I did it out of an act of empathy or to be there for a person who probably could use some company. The reality of it is though, I felt obligated. I mean, I was the one who had come across the accident.

The smell is what sticks with me the most. The bouquet of gasoline, rubber, and plastic, with a hint of meat all fueling the same fire was actually kind of pleasant on its own. It was only when it was paired with the violent, and most likely, excruciating deaths of two people, who were probably decades away from a more natural end that makes it a scent that haunted me. There was nothing I could have done, I’m sure of that, that is why that specific part of the night only stole a few nights of sleep from me.

Frankenstein’s Blindness: When You Fail To See How You’re Making It Worse

I never thought I was a crazy person. I was convinced that I was level headed and that I would act rationally in any situation. Never in a million years did I think that I would find myself looking at a series of actions and decisions that I had couldn’t find a logic to, all I had was the knowledge that they were of my creation. Victor had an intent when he created his monster, all I had was the wreckage.

Bali And My Attempts To Destroy It

I don’t lead a very exciting life. There’s really no way around that. This fact is the reason I try so hard, desperately at times, to find any nugget of inspiration I can find in what I believe most would call the mundane. But sometimes, I’m overwhelmed by an abundance of things that could each change my core on their and leave me a quivering mess of a human if taken as a whole. This phenomenon often has the effect of making me retreat inward to the safety of my own perceptions of myself, just to see if they’ve changed in a new setting. 

What follows is a collection of journal entries I wrote while on vacation in Bali.  These were written often in alternating states of dread and euphoria  and with varying influences of caffeine and alcohol. They are stream of conscious missives of a man lost in himself while being so incredibly certain of where he was on a map. 

Oh Look, More Poetry

Graciously, There Are No More Holy Lands

Pillars held the sanctuary high
eight of them in the beginning
Strong and resilient and reliant on themselves
but grateful for the company

and the prayers inside the hallowed walls
were offered up to ancient gods
of innocent chaos
and pubescent fury

And like all things that are predicted
they all met their various inevitable conclusions

One by one in their own time

Some broke down into crystal quartz
and became the playthings of children
some into soft sand
for lovers to lay on

and a couple held their form
as best as they could
and eventually became ruins
for only the eldest to whisper within

“If you had only seen them when.”

Please God, Play It Slow

I learned something about the blues
something I think I was always supposed to know
you never know you’re playing them
until you’re nostalgic enough to write a song

To us, it was just humid August nights
driving as fast as we could for a just a breeze
looking to add more heat to our skin
or a way to forget the month

I think if I had been listening
I could’ve heard a guitar
as we fished the muddy waters
or a harmonica as the lightning hopped out of the clouds

But as far as we knew

the only music
was the silent tune of American Melancholy
and we had sold our souls to it
so how could we have known the songs we were missing?

My Shoulder Will Not Be Cried Upon, Not Tonight

The sun has gone away, far away
and along with it’s rays, my sensitivity
In this darkness I think I prefer you shattered
I am not concerned that you’re wounded

I couldn’t give a damn for your cries for help

In the morning I swear to you,
I’ll curse the waters that are pulling you under
I’ll hold you upright
I’ll keep your motion forward

But tonight

Tonight

Just lay yourself upon me
and compete against the howling beasts
there’s a wild constellation above us
and these heartfelt talks have become too civil

Thrash, shake, and writhe
we can be the demons in the absence of light

and tomorrow

tomorrow

the sincerest mending can begin again.

I Don’t Think I Can Do It Again

I don’t think I will ever go to another Third Eye Blind concert. Not because the night I spent in Chicago listening to them was a bad experience mind you, it was exactly the opposite actually. The few hours I spent soaking up the Lake Michigan breeze and absorbing the heat from the others in the crowd were magical, in the way only music in the summer can be. The reason I can’t see myself attending another show is because I simply won’t have anything to offer in return the way I did that night.

I Still Write Poems Sometimes

Every Door Is A Pearly Gate At 9 o’clock

I prayed to god the other night,
simply to thank him
thank him that he made me a non-believer
’cause I don’t think I could handle
the balance between damnation and paradise
with her name in my head

It wasn’t always like this
I didn’t always
have to rely on sex, sad songs,
wine and blank walls to help me
figure it all out
there used to be salvation somewhere
But I think its found a better home
somewhere in that rectangle

I refuse to say I’m lost
because you’d find me if I did,
god, you were always better at finding things.

Open Mic With Only A One Person Audience

The radiator banged and wailed
like anyone that age has a right to
but the man played on,
like anyone that age is likely to do.

He played songs that weren’t his
but no one could dare to steal
the ghosts that came with them
and the specters brought
brought their own chains to give
that cast iron heater a run for its money
I’m sure somewhere
in the mess, an angelic chorus
lead by a drunken balladeer
peeked in on the revelry and offered up a whisper

In fact, the only spirit
that failed to show was hers
She used to always be there
enduring all the fights
now her void will haunt me.