Monthly Archives: January 2015

Let the Cold Wind Blow

Posted on January 15, 2015 by | Leave a comment

Let the cold wind blow,
let the weak spots show,
let the gray hair go
’til it’s there no more.

Let the days roll by,
let the hours fly,
let ’em say goodbye
’til it’s you and I.

There’s just no reason
that I can find
to leave a bit of
this life behind.

Let the loose lips slip,
let the hipsters hip,
let the sinking ship
take a long, cool dip.

Let the world roll on,
let the foolish fawn
let both king and pawn
fade until they’re gone.

There’s just no point
that I can see
to let it bother
you and me.

Let the raindrops fall,
let the time just crawl,
let the engine stall
somewhere in the hall.

Let the earth just spin,
let them all back in,
let both thick and thin
come around again.

There’s just no reason
that I can find
to ever have you
off my mind.

15 JAN 2015

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Relativity

Posted on January 13, 2015 by | Leave a comment

Swirling in shadows like an almost barely there
hint of suggestion, reach to touch it if you dare.
Constants in motion all at once, they’re everywhere.
Nothing for granted, but you really just don’t care.

Used to be’s, fantasies,
lost in the whirlwind
where you find that you are free.
Come with me, and you’ll see
if you know anything
of relativity.

Moving ever onward, invitation to the dance;
join in with the rhythm if you only take a chance.
Nonstop celebration, all directions all the time;
never really knowing where to stop and draw the line.

Caution signs, never mind,
caught in a windstorm
where you learn what is to be.
Come with me, and you’ll see
if you know anything
of relativity.

13 JAN 2015

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How It Goes

Posted on January 12, 2015 by | Leave a comment

Early in the morning,
right before the break of day,
standing at the transom
one eye turned to either way,
soaking in the silence
of the crisp December air,
trying to remember
what he did to get back there.

How does it go?
Once you pay it no attention
it just slips away
and you don’t even know.

Sometimes he’ll remember
there was sour with the sweet,
between months of famine
having just enough to eat,
learning from the hunger
what it really means to need,
finding an abundance
is not ever guaranteed.

How does it go?
When a little taste will get you
what you gonna do
if you can’t get no more?

Early in the morning,
right before the rooster crows,
watching that first sunlight
break the cold horizon’s nose,
soaking in the silence
as the ice begins to melt,
trying to remember
where he was when the hand was dealt.

How does it go?
Once you head in a direction
every other way
becomes a told you so.

12 JAN 2015

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I Can See Ohio

Posted on January 12, 2015 by | Leave a comment

Nothing comes from nothing,
yet something always does;
you can smell the future coming
long before the buzz,

sitting on the front porch
listening to the rain
as the winter fades away
and summer comes again.

I can’t speak for Michigan
but I can see Ohio
rusted into sentimental dreams.
Knowing there is nothing left
but giving it one more try;
oh, nothing’s ever really
what it seems.

Idle hands find mischief,
that’s what they tend to do;
you can’t make a liar honest
thinking that he’s true.

Thinking turns to dreaming
where nothing’s ever done;
ain’t much comes to those who wait
without working some.

I can’t speak for Michigan
but I can see Ohio
lost in faded technicolor dreams.
Knowing there is something left
to say before goodbye;
oh, something more important
than it seems.

Dreams of California
turn to chalk and dust;
what you don’t intend to do
don’t seem to matter much.

Lonely days grow empty,
wishing wells run dry;
everything is living
up until it dies.

I can’t speak for Michigan
but I can see Ohio
growing old and busted at the seams.
Thinking there ain’t anything
but a lost, longing sigh
or anything to sell
but an old dream.

12 JAN 2014

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The Slightest Remnant

Posted on January 5, 2015 by | Leave a comment

Along the edge, the slightest remnant lingers
before it falls away into the void
and dries like alcohol upon the fingers,
its essence there but nonetheless destroyed,

the merest memory of thought or action
caught only by a sentimental whim
unable to return the satisfaction:
the empty echo of a finished hymn.

And yet, that tiny fragment’s lack of meaning
unlocks what always follows, in the end:
an empty room assaulted by spring cleaning
that only waits to be filled up again.

Before the dawn, the night feels it is endless:
a gaping maw that, in the sun, is friendless.

05 JAN 2015

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