Friday, February 8, 2008
the first wednesday of november
The streets are lined with confetti and hope
A closer race nobody can remember
A valiant effort I’ve been told
But it might as well be
50,000 votes
Separating me
From the new mayor of Monroe
The first Wednesday of November
And I’m nothing but a citizen again
I was shining bright as a dark horse
I nearly galloped my way in
But it might as well have been
50 years ago
when I almost took the stage
as the new mayor of Monroe
The good folks bring consolation
Wrapped in sugar and cellophane and notes
But I’d trade every fruit basket
For 17 more votes
Looking back at what could have been
while looking forward to another winter in Wisconsin
I might as well be
A drunkard or a ghost
For I’ll never take the stage
As the new mayor of Monroe
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
the last of the ninth
Holding down the nerves; he’s choking back the thrill
He’s never been so admired
He’s never been so alone
He’s throwing out the last pitch on a summer to forget
He’s bringing back a season that hasn’t ended yet
He’s three outs from perfection
And one mistake from the expected
His accusers became his followers
After the seventh inning stretch
The world is bei ng introduced
To a man its never met
His friends have all abandoned him (he’s standing on the edge)
in the last of the ninth
He calmly takes his place where the meadow meets the sand
The leather feels like ice; its melting in his hand
And sixty feet
Feels more like a mile
He does his best to pretend that this frame
is just the third or the eighth again
But the multitude cheering his name
Makes it impossible to forget
That he stands on the edge
All alone on the edge
In the last of the ninth
It’s a chore to turn his eyes from the zeros
And more to keep his mind from the heroes of his youth
But there’s three outs to go
In the last of the ninth
Sunday, February 3, 2008
the last world war
But these are mediocre times
The best has come and faded
The rest could never save it
We’re weary of the imminent
But tired of the waiting
And its hard to be alone
With the ghost of the radio
Asking don’t you remember how it was
I’d send for a youthful song
You’d raise your cup and sing along
We’d laugh until the morning had come
Living what we believed we had never seen before
We found ourselves between the surface and the floor (ocean/shore)
Rejecting what we’d seen while holding out for more
On the threshold of the last world war
What a funny shade of quiet we’ve become
So little to say when the songs are sung
The spirit feels like fading
The shadows plan on staying
We’re fighting for a second change
But tired of the waiting
And its hard to be alone
With the ghost of the radio
Asking how we ever ended up like this
We’ve only to turn it on
Shake the dust, hum some barsIn no time we’d be dancing aga
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Vinny put your gun away
This is neither the time nor place
And you know what Roberto says about scaring the tenants
Vinny my last mistake
could be startling you awake
I come in peace; I bear no weapon
I know there’s an ocean between us and New Jersey
And I know there’s a long night between now and 6:30
But Vinny please, don’t take it out on me
You can say that again. Whatever it was you said
And I’ll just nod my head and pretend I understood
Vinny, violence won’t do us any good
Braving the quiet and cold, Manning your post all alone
Longing for something a bit more exciting
Vinny, don’t take it out on me
You know there’s a fine line between fearless and foolish
Vinny its high time; we gotta get through this
Vinny put that gun away; you know what Roberto says about scaring the tenants
Saturday, January 19, 2008
$21.08
What falls to the floor is an ocean to me
You probably wouldn’t know if it were missing
But I’m drowning in this unforgiving sea
A slight misunderstanding, confusion of the terms
I won’t pretend to be without my faults
But your oversight however slight
brings another anxious night
21 dollars, 21 dollars, 21 dollars and eight cents
21 dollars, 21 dollars, you owe me 21 dollars
I will have my revenge
I know its near impossible to prove
In a world of corruption and abuse
But I’d try to hear you out if you were me
and I was you
I’ve known my fair share of disappointments
Now I’ll take my fair share on the house
A few hours in your store ought to settle the score
I’ll be crafty; I’ll be cunning; I’ll be on my way out
Hair gel, A hacky sack, a handful of Doritos,
Could you point me to the dressing room to try on these new speedos,
Produce, popcorn, paintbrushes, plaid and polyesterFlashlights, fanta and fishing line that sits beside the register
Sunday, January 13, 2008
halleluiah
Another long and winding road
Past the old church, past the mission
Another worn and weary sole
And the wind whispers halleluiah
As the footprints blow away
And the dust echoes halleluiah
As the evidence is erased
Another bulletproof king of something
Another bullet buzzing by
Another close call, another brush with the end of the line
And the street lights whisper halleluiah
As the crowd begins to thin
And the darkness echoes halleluiah
He’s coming down again
The path he’s chosen, be it straight or be it broken
Be it famous or unspoken in the end
The doubt and fear all the while was leading here
Halleluiah
Another lost love, full of questions
Another hole in the earth
Another farewell, wrapped in blessing
Another death adorned with birth
And the hills whisper halleluiah
As the night loosens her grip
And the sunrise echoes halleluiahAs the new/breaking day begins
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
time machine
No chance to post music yet - probably not until february - sing along with your own tune
I met a man on the street
He told me all about his time machine
Built of old receipts, postcards and magazines
Took another drink and pointed at me
Said son, the future’s never what it seems
There was a crack in the atmosphere
I had to make my move
I fought my way out of there
Now, I’m here with you
I’ll tell you my story, won’t tell you what to do
Son, its never what it seems
I’ve been there and back
I’ve seen it change
Seen the truth attacked
While the stories stay the same
You fight to live another day
My manifesto would read like a book
But for another 50 years not be understood
You can guess if you want, it won’t do you any good
Its never what it seems
Everyone I meet is known for his innocence
But here on the street you can only trust yourself
Show me your scars, don’t tell me what your future is
Its never what it seems
If I were a hammer, I’d break the mold