Seventh Night of Summer (8/2017)

Seventh Night of Summer (8/2017)

It was the seventh night of summer, they fell down into town.
Though, they never landed, they never hit the ground.

Shark was the captain, Shark drove the tank.
Invented the rules when they gave him his name.
Ignoring his orders, Tuna, Willie and Barb
fall towards the glass to see what we are.

Tuna says, ‘man, he’s lookin’ at you.’
Shark smiles, ‘Guitar’s in there just cooking some stew.
Preparing to sing ‘happy birthday to you.”
Noodle, in the corner, knew exactly what to do.

They always fall around.
Reflections of faces.
They never hit the ground.
Ignore the orders.
Seventh night of summer.
They’re falling through faces.

Shark’s less than impressed, he wants to be king.
Willie, down near Noodle – ‘will they ever see me?’
Barb watches Willie score high across the board.
Four float above a shell and a peanut on the floor.

Noodlehead, silent and trained to end.
Blends with the background, he was never their friend.
Pays them no mind, simple life in a shell.
Scraping the bottom before raising some hell.

The deep end of the bottom and a new destiny.
It was the seventh night of summer when Noodle broke free.

In Your Radio (8/2017)

In Your Radio (8/2017)

Ignore your light and dance in your darkness.
All that sunshine left a desert.
Remember, now was once never.

Follow your thunder and realize you’re lightning.
The past adjusts your radio.
The songs that lead us where we go.

We strut through the storm as if it’s just begun.

Nothing numb.
It’s all real.
Where the hell is heaven?
What’s that in your radio?
The sound of a silhouette and a child’s sunset when we’re not young.

Songs leak from speakers, a sound about a star.
Evening. Before us, numbers glow.
Begin to feel and never know.

If you’ve never been lost, you will never be found.
We wake up here, disguise worn thin.
They’ll never see just where we’ve been.

We strolled through the storm and onto the sun.

After You (8/2017)

After You (8/2017)

It’s been two lifetimes since we met.
Maybe you didn’t know, I don’t forget.

Everything changed that night, I’ve never been the same.
I can still see your face, though I don’t recall your name.

What happened when no one was watching?
What happened in the middle of the night?
We only met once,
but that wasn’t enough.
Tomorrow I’m coming back for you.

Check my head and head out west.
Give the devil all my best.
Tomorrow I’m coming after you.

I think I’ve got us figured out,
We’ll say goodbye to all self-doubt.
Tomorrow I’m coming back for you.

She’s so high, you’re so low.
You’re on fire, she still glows.
Tomorrow I’m coming back for you.

It’s been two lifetimes since we met.
Tomorrow’s the day you won’t forget.
Tomorrow, I’m coming after you.

Late Worm (8/2017)

Late Worm (8/2017)

All the birds were early.
Hanging, stalling in the sky.
Up, so high, so early.
They could see it in my eyes.

They learned to fly so early.
Bird’s-eye judgement from above.
Up and down, so early
before we find what we love.

We are the late worms.
Early birds don’t matter.
Why worry about the time?
Get going when we’re ready.

Early birds don’t matter.

In my head I’m a lion.
I’m just lying in bed before I head for above.
I’m a late worm.
When I have legs I’ll head for above.

With the wind they blindly sing.
They’re early birds, we don’t know anything.
We don’t speak much.
We can’t know a thing.
We don’t sleep much,
so we see everything.

We don’t sleep, so we see.
Early birds don’t matter.
We are late worms, we don’t care about the birds.
We don’t sleep, so we see.

We hide underground. When it rains, we get too down.
Late worm’s only early to a party that hasn’t been planned.

Pocketed Time (7/2017)

Pocketed Time (7/2017)

Blue line finds me dangling near Division.
Why’d they look at me?
I leave after exploring Friday’s leaves.
It was written on a train.
Three stops ‘til madness.
A city sliding by.
Shadows get ready to soak up the sky.

Rewind. You and I were on a mission.
We were listening.
We made up names we dreamed they would believe.
We were hidden in the rain.
We couldn’t find us.
Meaning became bent.
We pocketed time we could have spent.

We don’t know what you’re up to.
How do you not see the wind?
If I had anything, I’d do everything.
All the time. Anything.
It’d all be easier.

What was the last thing that you learned?
What was the last sound that you heard?
Hide inside. Don’t ever face it.
Move forward, faces. Erase us.

They lie, singing books will bring on wisdom.
Antagonizing me.
Come down. It’s not a dream if we believe.
We’re all waiting on a plane.
Take me to that place.
The times we won’t forget
that haven’t even happened yet.

What’s the last sound that you heard?
What’s the last sound that you heard?

Won’t Get Stopped (7/2017)

Won’t Get Stopped (7/2017)

See with your ears. Touch what you hear.
Don’t measure your days with happiness.

Swim on your feet. Win with defeat.
These things will always happen.

Too tired to sleep. Do what you need.
Don’t measure your days with happiness.

Mornings begin. The chill of your skin.
These things will always happen.

A lost young man who somehow found his way.
Never read a word while receiving straight A’s.
The lost young man begs, ‘listen when I talk.’
He says, ‘stop at the signs and you won’t get stopped.’

‘I’ve seen things you cannot see. Avoid disaster. Follow me.’

It was all recorded here. So far away that nothing’s near.
If you’ll begin to listen.
‘Stop at the signs and you won’t get stopped.
You’ll know if you don’t listen.’

In Front of Fiction (6/2017)

In Front of Fiction (6/2017)

Curiosity, kind soul under a sweater.
Lost between yellow and green.
We were young, didn’t know any better.
Or maybe we just didn’t care.

Standing, her back to scenes from old movies.
In the sun she squints at me.
Torn and tired, mountains moving beauty.
Or maybe we weren’t really there.

We stand in front of fiction.
We stand between the screens.
She smiles in confusion.
She smiles before she leaves.

I follow indifferently.
Trace sounds back to mountains.
Climb memories down to fiction.

Show me where you spend time in the morning.
Bend between thought and coffee.
We reset. Start over without warning.
Catch an old breath of fresh air.

Take me back to where I’m leaving from.
Drive me, whisper ‘Don’t you see?
Our paths will weave until they’re one.
One of these days we’ll be somewhere.’