Intersections of Life

Something stirs in my soul
The suppression of a restless spirit
Screaming inside I whisper
Listen closely can you hear it
From the darkest depths
I've risen yet again
Taking no moment for granted
I'll carry these memories until the end

The frown has been replaced
By a lingering smile
A glimpse of happiness is back
After missing for quite a while
Funny how our lives pass
Like cars in the night
Rushing in different directions
Trying to beat the timing of the light
We sit at these intersections of life
Staring at one another through the glass
Oblivious at times
When we might pass

My thoughts will always follow you
As I'm left here behind
Your memories will always carry me
To a better place and time
A part of me will always be yours
You know this is true
For I hope to have a little place
In your heart always too

Something stirs in my soul
The suppression of a restless spirit
Screaming inside I whisper
Listen closely can you hear it
From the darkest depths
I've risen yet again
Taking no moment for granted
I'll carry these memories until the end

Life Is Music

I wish I had a soundtrack for my life. I don't mean a few mixed Cd's or an ipod mix. I want my own theme music. I want music to follow me. I want it to play in the background from some unseen composer. Music is my therapy, it is my release, in a sense, it is my life. Life without it would be unbearable, period. I wake to music, work to music, come home to music, relax to music, and play it up until the moment I fall asleep. When my wheels start turning too quickly in my head I just turn the music up to find my balance. I identify parts of my life with music as if I've tagged certain moments with certain songs. When hearing them it always takes me back to that moment, like a snapshot in time.

Music awakens my soul as well as my imagination. Since MTV no longer plays music videos and I hardly watch TV, my imagination has crept out of darkness. TV fills the mind with so many images and sounds, it's beatdown is constant, suppressing any moment when the imagination can flourish. When listening to music I can construct vivid short films rolling from the projector that is my mind. Sometimes I'm the star of these images with my own eyes like the lens of the camera, recording each moment for what it is. No scripts, no make up, no cuts, just human drama, humors, and tragedy. Each moment catalogued with a verse or a song within my mind's own hard drive.

Sometimes I want to share these moments with people. I'm not quite sure they'd understand. For all I know they might do the same. I guess it's one of my secrets, one that I share with you now. My soul is sometimes captured in the keys from a piano, the wails from a lone saxophone, thuds from a kick drum, well timed like a crisp cymbals, eerily captivating like a violin, smooth as a strum of a guitar, and sometimes coarse like a soulful harmonica. Music is my life and in certain ways, my life is music. Let it play on...

Defeated

I STAND HERE DEFIANT
SILENT
YET DEFEATED
I PULLED YOU IN
PUSHED YOU OUT
FOUND THAT YOU WERE THE ONE I NEEDED
THE TIME PASSES
BECOMING HOURS IN ONLY A BLUR
DAYS FALL AWAY
A MONTH NOW EVEN MORE
THE MIRROR LAUGHS AT MY HAUNTED FACE
VISIONS LIKE GHOSTS
NOW LINGER IN ITS PLACE
MEMORIES LIKE PARACHUTES
ONCE SEEMED SO HIGH
FALLING TO THE EARTH BY GRAVITY
WITH WHICH ITS ETERNALLY TIED
A CHANCE OF REDEMPTION
IS WHAT THIS CROOKED MAN BEGS
A SWELLING IN MY CHEST
A KNOCKING IN MY LEGS
I WALK ALONE TODAY
BUT AGAIN NOT BY CHOICE
I DREAM DISTORTED COLOR AND SOUND
AWAITING YOUR SWEET VOICE
THE MORNING COMES FAST
TAKING ME BY SURPRISE
HERE ALONE AGAIN
A TEAR SWELLS IN MY EYES
HOPE IS AN OLD CROSS
THAT I MUST NOW BARE
TO GIVE YOU UP
I WANT NEVER TO DARE
YOU WERE THE ONE I ALWAYS NEEDED
YET I STAND HERE
DEFIANT
SILENT
NOW DEFEATED

Tightrope Walker

LIKE THE TIGHTROPE WALKER
I TAKE CAREFUL STEPS
SO SURE FOOTED
ALWAYS KNOWING WHICH STEP I TAKE NEXT
CAREFUL BREATHING
AND AN ACUTE ATTENTION SPAN
MY MOVEMENTS ARE REPETITIVE
LIKE THE CONSTANT SPIN OF A FAN
HIGH ABOVE
I STAND HERE TODAY
LIKE A CRUEL JOKE
FATE WILL HAVE ITS WAY
A SHRIEK
A BIRDS WINGS BLISTER MY FACE
I SLIP I FALL
DISTANCE THE ONLY THING THAT STANDS
BETWEEN ME AND GRACE
MY HEART TWISTS
IT THUNDERS IT POUNDS
BLURRING SPACE TIME AND DISTANCE
RAPIDLY APPROACHING THE GROUND
A PECULIAR THOUGHT
RATTLES IN MY HEAD
IS THIS FEAR THE ONLY REAL DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN THE LIVING AND THE DEAD
HAVE I BEEN DEAD ALL ALONG
HAS THE LIFE I'VE BEEN LIVING
BEEN ALL SO WRONG
RACING TOWARD MY IMPENDING DOOM
I HEAR A FAMILIAR RING
I AWAKE SAFE IN MY ROOM
COVERED WITH SWEAT
I FEEL THE SWEET RELIEF
MY LIFE CHANGES FROM HERE
IT IS MY FIRM BELIEF
LIKE THE TIGHTROPE WALKER
I WILL TAKE CAREFUL STEPS
NOT ALWAYS SURE FOOTED
BUT NOT AFRAID
OF WHAT COMES NEXT

Hemingway's Afterthought

LIKE THE TALE OF THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA
I DRIFT THESE BARREN WATERS
ENDLESSLY
WAVES CRASHING IN
ALWAYS RECEDING
WHATS BEHIND ME OFTEN RESEMBLES
WHAT LAYS BEFORE ME
SOLITUDE AND THESE OLD WOODEN PADDLES
IS ALL MY TIRED HANDS CAN HOLD
EMOTIONS AND MEMORIES
SWIM IN LIKE PHANTOM SHARKS
THEY CAN BE SO BOLD
THE SUN BLISTERS
BURNS MY EGO TO THE CORE
FIGHTING THE RIPTIDE OF A HARDENED LIFE
CONSTANTLY FIGHTING
TO REACH THE SHORE
DARK CLOUDS ROLL IN
FORESHADOWING THE GLOOM AHEAD
MAKING ME ACUTELY AWARE
OF ALL THOSE THINGS
I SHOULD HAVE SAID
I FIGHT I STRUGGLE
I WEATHER ANOTHER STORM
IT IS HERE ON THESE OPEN WATERS
WHERE I MUST ROAM
WHEN MY JOURNEY HERE IS OVER
THE WATERS WILL TAKE ME HOME
LIKE THE TALE OF THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA
I FEAR I DRIFT THESE BARREN WATERS
ENDLESSLY

Battered And Torn

HERE I SIT
CROOKED SMILE CROOKED TEETH
WARS RAGING WITHIN
I HARDLY SLEEP
A TUG OF WAR
BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE ONE ABOVE
CONSTANTLY TORN BETWEEN TEMPTATION
AND THE IDEA OF LOVE
ALL SMILES
AN APPEARANCE MISTAKEN TO BE SO KIND
NO SIGN OF THE DARKNESS
BEHIND THESE EYES OF MINE
A DEPTH BROUGHT BY MISERY
FOLLOWED BY PAIN
ALWAYS FALLING ON THE LOSING END
NEVER TO GAIN
WEARING MY STITCHED UP HEART
HANGING TO MY SLEEVE UNPROTECTED
ALWAYS PRONE TO CUT
TO BLEED
I CARRY THIS SMILE NEVERTHELESS
I HIDE THESE INSECURITIES DEEP WITHIN
THE WINCE FROM THE PAIN
I CAREFULLY SUPPRESS
I STILL CARRY AN OPEN HEART
BUT WATCH WITH CAUTIOUS EYES
I STILL LISTEN FOR YOUR VOICE
THOUGH ITS MEMORY SLOWLY DIES
I WAIT FOR YOU
LIKE THE CLEARING OF A STORM
MY SMILE MY HEART REMAINS HERE
BATTERED AND TORN

Black Lung Serenade

BLACK LUNG SERENADE
CAN BE BITTER
CAN BE COURSE
I SING IT OFTEN TO THESE WALLS
EMPTY
BUT YET FULL OF REMORSE
SMOKE POURS FROM MY LIPS
AND LINGERS IN THE AIR
CRASHING AND SWIRLING
REMINDING ME OF YOUR HAIR
MY VOICE CRACKS
LIKE LIGHTNING IN A SUMMER SKY
IT IS HERE ALONE
THAT THESE FEELINGS MUST DIE
AS I LOOK INTO THE MIRROR
I SEE A STRANGER STANDING BEFORE ME
HE OFFERS SOME RESEMBLANCE
BUT YET THE FIGURE IS AN EMPTY SHELL
IT IS NOW THAT I MUST SHAPE AND MOLD MYSELF
DO I SING ANOTHER BLACK LUNG SERENADE
OR BECOME SOMTHING ELSE
LESSONS FROM YOU I WILL TAKE
AND BUILD SOMETHING MUCH STRONGER
THESE FEELINGS
ILL PUSH DEEP
LOCKED AWAY
BEHIND MY ARMOUR

Still But A Girl

I SEE THE LAYERS YOU HAVE HIDDEN
FAR FROM THIS WORLD
IN SPITE OF YOUR ARMOUR
YOU ARE STILL BUT A GIRL
PAIN FROM YOUR PAST
IS WHAT YOU HIDE FROM NOW
YOU'VE BUILT AN ELABORATE DISQUISE
JUST MANAGED SOMEHOW
IN MOMENTS OF SILENCE
YOU PANIC
SOMETIMES SHOOK TO THE CORE
BEFORE ANYONE KNOCKED
YOU'VE LOCKED YOUR HEART'S ONLY DOOR
I SEE THE LAYERS YOU HAVE HIDDEN
FAR FROM THIS WORLD
IN SPITE OF YOUR ARMOUR
YOU ARE STILL BUT A GIRL
I LINGER HERE CONFUSED
AS I STARE
I SEE THE WORLDS YOU DANCE IN
TO GET CLOSER DO I DARE
IN MANY WAYS
WE ARE THE SAME
OUR INSECURITIES OUR DAMAGED HEARTS
WE SCRAMBLE TO HIDE
WE SCRAMBLE TO TAME
IT IS HERE THAT I CAUTIOUSLY WATCH
BECAUSE OF YOUR ARMOUR
I FEAR ONLY TO BE A NOTCH
I'LL WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE WEARY
FROM CARRYING YOUR HEAVY LOAD
WAITING UNTIL YOU'RE MINE
ONLY MINE TO HOLD
I SEE THE LAYERS YOU HAVE HIDDEN
FAR FROM THIS WORLD
IN SPITE OF YOUR ARMOUR
YOU ARE STILL BUT A GIRL

Tattoos and Scars

LIKE TATTOOS AND SCARS
THESE MARKS RUN DEEP
VISIONS OF YOU CANT ESCAPE ME
HAUNTS ME EVEN IN SLEEP
REPLAYING OUR LAST MOMENTS
AGAIN AND AGAIN
MY FAILURES AND SHORTCOMINGS
I NOW COMPREHEND
IVE BEGGED FOR FORGIVENESS
IVE BEGGED FOR A SECOND CHANCE
BEING PATIENT OR PUSHING ON
ITS A DELICATE DANCE
I HATE THIS PLACE WHERE I FIND MYSELF
NOW SURROUNDED BY STRANGERS
WISH THEY KNEW ME SOMEHOW
WISH THEY KNEW ME LIKE I KNEW YOU
WISHED THEY LOVED ME
LIKE FOR YOU I STILL DO
ITS A BITTER PILL THAT MUST BE TAKEN
MY TIME WITH YOU ENDS
EVERYTIME I AWAKEN
LIKE TATTOOS AND SCARS
THESE MARKS RUN DEEP
I LONG TO SEE YOUR RETURN
SADLY ONLY IN MY SLEEP

One By One

Smiling faces stare at me night and day
Motionless, careless, and free of mistake
Faces from a different time and place
Free of guilt but full of grace
One by one
I take these photos down
Love, smiles, and never a frown
Like the walls left bare
Too in my soul it seems
The memories chase me in the day
Haunt in my dreams
Moving on is the hardest part
When the finish line resembles the start
I dare to move wanting to return
Only to notice my bridge has burned
I struck the match
I forgot it seems
Only to destroy both our dreams
One by one
I take these photos down
Wear my smile but upside down
Days turn to weeks
Months too they shall pass
Yet a single photo remains
Beautiful smile suspended in glass

Lightning

Does lightning strike twice
If so then does it breed new life
Life to a lost love
Or a broken heart
Will it mend wounds
Reassemble all the parts
Can you answer this question of mine
Or will the solution come only
In due time
For a change is what I need somehow
Something to come along
Can you be that now
I ponder as I push
Through this crowded earth
Sometimes thinking
Oh, whats the worth
At the very moment
Right before I quit
I see that second bolt of lightning
The sky is lit
My heartbeat quickens
Just for a second or two
For it falls back in pace
Until I'm graced
By the sight of you

Mating Call?

I'm running on fumes from the night before but I wanted to share an odd experience before it slipped my mind. Went to Courtyard 280 last night to meet a friend to shoot some pool. We played until about 1am and decided to grab a table to talk and get a look around the place. I saw it lurking at the bar, sitting next to her friend. I looked away as you would do when you witness a bad accident, scared that the next look might embed an image that would haunt me for years to come. By doing something so natural as looking away, I created a window of opportunity for it to move and lurk somewhere behind me. As we were sitting there talking I felt something hit my foot. I thought at the moment it could be a stray cue ball from a table not far from where we were sitting. When I looked down I saw not a cue ball, but a lighter. This wasn't my lighter so where did it come from? As I turned around to look for the owner I made eye contact with the wild beast. When confronted with such a situation its best to look away, move slowly away, or just play dead. Since it would look odd, me lying on the floor of the bar, I decided to look away. I then heard it shriek "HEY." This must be a joke, right was the thought that crossed my mind. I turned and dared look again and she did the finger motion, come here. What the hell did I do? How did it focus on me? I then looked to my buddy who's eyes were equally dilated and in horror. I said "she must be talking to you." He replied "bullshit." So like the nice guy I was I tried to look last him in the crowd for maybe someone she wanted all along but with no such luck. After a few odd exchanges I gave in and decided to return her lighter. She told me to sit down which I quickly winged an excuse that my buddy and I were having a serious conversation, that I'd love to, but just can't. I walked back to my table in one piece, afraid to look back. I felt safe again at the table until I felt something strike my leg. This time I was in no doubt where the object had come from and why. I looked down by reflex to see what it was this time and discovered it was the metal top of a salt shaker, nice. This time I braved the beast and walked over and asked why she had thrown something again. She then went on a drunken ramble about how she thought I was hot, that she liked my "style", wanted to see my tattoos (thanks ole' wise decisions), and again, wanted me to sit. I said no thank you again and made my way quickly to my table. After twenty minutes or so my friend said, "dude, she's about to throw a fry." Now normally you would never hear such a statement, in a bar, in your 30th year of your life, and not outside the scope of a TV show that might air on Nickelodeon. I turn to see her with her arm extended back like she's about to lob the longest hail mary pass in history and I know she's got receiver written all over me. I quickly put my hand up and tell her stop, like you would do if a puppy were about to pee in the floor. This time the game has grown weary on me and my fear has resided. I approach her yet again, tell her to stop throwing shit, and ask what her deal is. I lie, I tell her I have a girlfriend. I hate to lie but sometimes in rare moments its necessary. History will be the judge of that and I've lived long enough to tell this story. She doesn't buy it or doesn't want to hear it. I point out guys hanging around, lurking for their closing time beauty queen and say "how about that one or this one." She reads my response well because she then issues a "get the fuck out of here, go, go on back to where you came from." Mission accomplished. The beast didn't get up and start thrashing away like a bull in the china shop. It actually only hissed a few times and crawled away. So case in point...when you're at the bar and you see a woman (or thing) with pants on where her butt looks like she might be wearing a diaper, tight shirt revealing her gut and awesome enough to be too short so that it hangs over the belt and hangs out of the shirt about three inches for all to see, lurching through the crowd with a drink in hand, holding it like a security blanket from her evil existence she calls life...just look away. Don't, I repeat, don't look into it's eyes and run like hell if you hear the dreaded mating call "Hey!" bellow from it's raspy mouth. Run anywhere, regardless of what or who's around you. You can gather yourself later when you get away, just run, run like hell!

Moving Time Is Here

So, this week I get to move...oh boy. I think I'd much rather put my junk, and when I say junk, I say the twigs and berries, into a meat grinder. I hate to move. It reminds me how much shit I actually acquire through the years. I'm not a hoarder by any means. In fact I will throw out perfectly good stuff or give it to goodwill just to unclutter my life. I hate clutter. I like organization, I like clean. During the past year I've kinda let that go a bit. Depression or a small resemblance to it can make you do some things you normally wouldn't do. I don't suggest it.

Anyway, so I have clutter now. This weekend I began packing things away. I'm saying goodbye to many of my old shirts. Kristi used to call them my tight shirts. True, they were a little tight and for some reason I thought they looked good. How embarrassing for me to walk around wearing those. What the hell was she thinking letting me? I've moved beyond the tight shirts and stepped up one size to offset it. My world is right now. I can move and breathe with a little more comfort. Half my wardrobe has been retired to the goodwill pile.

Aside from clothes there is the matter of furniture. I have couches devastated from my dog. Seems he loved the leather couch more than me and I surrendered it to him years ago. No lie, his couch, his couch only. Bet it was the most expensive dog bed in Shelby County, maybe even Alabama. Glass tables...don't get me started. Sure, they look nice, even have an industrial look to them but the damn things attract dust and fingerprints quicker than Tiger Woods attracts hookers. You see that? Yeah I just dated this post with a Tiger Woods reference. Another mammoth of the dinosaur age would be my computer desk. Its a desk designed to fill the corner of the room. It's nice...but BIG. I have a laptop, it sits on my lap. The desk looks lonely and empty now. Maybe I should use it as a drawing table, maybe someplace to paint...Then there's the drafting table. Funny how I don't draft for a living but have the real deal when it comes to such things. Goodwill will be proud to help an aspiring drafter or architect one day. Too bad they're doomed to fail when they learn its all computer based these days. Bet they wish they had my computer desk...suckers. One item in particular need not go to goodwill or along for my move...my bed. It's just sad. So much abuse has withered the solid oak head and foot boards. The metal frame is tired and weak. It looks like it could implode at any minute, sending me to the floor like cars toward icy water if the San Fran bridge decided to collapse. Besides, if I donated it, they would have to bring in a priest to perform an exorcism to cast all the evil spirits its carried through it's life.

Then there's the little things in life that we acquire. Little things hiding in different areas of the house that you never really think of and they never really seem odd until you put them all together in a pile and see just how random they are. I'll give you an example: new unopened pack of playing cards, sewing kit, condoms, razor blades for a box cutter, tea cup candles, camo beer huggie, a sliver dollar, a zippo lighter, pain meds for a dog, compass, a masterlock, etc. It's random stuff but I'm pretty sure if the police were to get a search warrant and find it altogether in one place, I'm sure they'd put me on the sex offenders' list thinking I was involved in something kinky and weird. Oh, the clutter, it must now go!

I'm thinking of living life as a minimalist. It would be nice to rid my life of distraction and unnecessary junk. I look across the room and see not one, but two brand new mountain bikes. What a waste. One in fairness was for Kristi when she and I were dating so it's not like I just got bored with one and wanted another. She rode it twice, I rode mine maybe five times...that's just sad. I have various paintings on the wall that I no longer look at. Two sets of dishes, weird articles like a bean bag, stacks of books that I've read, DVDs that I've seen already, clothes that I never wear, shoes that I never wear. All of it consuming me, begging to take over my life, to bury me, cover me until I decompose and blow away. I hate it. It's got to go. I always wanted to live life like if I had to pack up and move on tomorrow it would be no problem. I envisioned myself as a drifter, moving city to city, rarely living there long enough for anyone to know my name. Funny how that changes and your belongings begin to weigh you down. At least I'm home and they're not keeping me from the ones I love. I will say however the things will have to go. If I'm ever to marry then I will let the wife collect the junk and I will make sure she has plenty of space. Space I'm sure she will run out of and make me reorganize ;)