REM cars...

streched out head to toe,
dream's hand catches me while I sleep.
turning covers to and fro,
without question, I've decended in deep.
stars twinkle and burn, and light up the sky,
throwing glare and fragments to obscure my eye.
floating above the earth, in a catatonic state,
drops of wax fall from candles at the wake.
the sun and heavens, play the field for the stars,
we slip between them in REM cars.

this call

last night, i woke you up on the telephone.
said I had gone out on my own,
can you take this call from heaven?
I'd seen your face on a picture downtown,
were you wondering if I was still banging around.
I had cried myself a river and proceeded to drown,
but would you reach your hand in for me.

I was crying out for the attention I crave,
some people are great, and some meet their grave.
can you take this call from heaven?
Telling you about the trouble I was in,
could you take me in your arms and make me whole again.
I was wondering was it possible by now,
could we sit down and write the story of how,
you and me, and it was all that it could be.
We walked right down, and laid beneath the sea.
Can you take this call from heaven?

We were on the mountain top, counting shooting stars.
Saw the big black sky, the red dot was Mars,
got lost in the milky way.
You turned to me and with a tear in your eye.
in front of all of this, you started to cry.
And you left me wondering why.
Hold my hand, cause I have something to say,
we never knew it then, but things are better this way, and hey...

can you take this call from heaven?

a birthday message...

Covered by the stiffness of the night, I walked the streets I used to know. Every corner screamed a memory, every face brought about a name. The orange glow that leaped from the windows of the old stomping grounds seemed comforting against the breeze. I crossed my arms and tightened myself up, as the pain of memories abandoned began to overtake me.

There were lines that snaked along the street like rivers. Among them, jovial faces gleamed like gold in the sand. These were the times made special by the gentle touch of a friend, or by the telling of story experienced by all. We were laughing about it then, and each knew this feeling would never cease.

Year passes year, and before you stop to realize it, the image staring back in the mirror no longer reminds you of yourself. You've slipped, but you're hanging on, motivated by the memories yet to be made. And, for a moment that seems more pure than any other, you look over your shoulder at your friends...and smile.

demons

It's all in a dream, things are not what they seem.
The feel and pulse of a new living thing,
crawling deeply underneath my weathered skin.
It's shadow lurks beneath me when I crawl,
pulls me down to the depths where I fall.
The fog has set in filling my head,
with answers to questions I dislike and dread.
My likeness in the mirror has not one head but two,
the unsettling difference between me and you.
It's path grows for miles like a cancer,
unravelling hope, and prayers for an answer.
These things haunt me throughout the night,
between these two sensations,
is the war that I fight.

there was...

There was a field, where we would dance in the rain.
There was the porch where I used to sit, screaming your name.
And you ran away from me.

There was an image of you, vanished much too late.
There was your face, red with the ravishing color of hate.
I was your dream.

There in the meadow, when your heart skipped a beat.
There was a poem in my head, I knew it complete.
The stars provided the light.

There were good-byes and tears and over the years.
There were good days and bad days, and hot ones and cold,
and some were so much wetter.

Memories missed...

Close your eyes tight and jump from this cliff.
The memories made and the memories missed. Scream your name with silent gestures.
Their shadows dance on the wall of your epitaph.
We jumped high from this dream,
and landed in it's ashes.
This broken home stands empty.

River of Tears

a river of tears flows underneath
wind-swept bridges.
the fingerprints of small hands
adorn her ridges.
this place they came, to cool the burn
of hate, of poison, they wait their turn.
to see life as it was before
evil cast it's spell.
to quiet the screams
of a fire breathing yell.

dream stare

- a new song

I took your photograph, in black and white.
And hid behind the stage, out of sight.
It was a rush, a thrilling blur. You were never there,
I only thought you were.
Your red eyes burned right through the paper. They caught me waiting,
in the background of this dream stare.

I held your photograph, with shivering hands. And marked it on the back,
with black pen. I knew you needed me,
but couldn't do it then. Those judging eyes,
calling me again.
Your eyes burned right through the paper. They caught me waiting,
in the background of this dream stare. Took the light away from my eyes,
left me running away from the dark.

I placed your photograph, under my bed at night. My mouth was open then,
and you climbed right in. Took the words right out of my mouth,
stole the screams right from my lips. I couldn't move away,
you locked me in right from the hips. Your face was like a black hole,
and it held me and sucked me in.
I couldn't escape the merky afterglow.

Your red eyes burned right thought the paper. They caught me waiting,
in the background of this dream stare. They held me there,
while I was burned up limb by limb.