Possessive Hands, Possessive Heart

I’ve got the words to say it all…
But words can’t break my fall.
The places I once knew,
hold secrets I’ll never spill.

Tiny words with big meanings
Ends are just new beginnings
Oh how I wish you could see
The potential in you and me.

Truth Lies Within

People are worn out,
Don’t know what it is about
-Drowned in a river of tears,
Trapped in a world of fears.

Sitting at home watching tv,
Trapped in a couch trying to be
-Something else, Someone else,
Another self, nobody else.

But wishing is not making
And you can’t undo that which you didn’t do
-Can someone explain from a different point of view?

My Shin

You race to catch the last bus home
And you are just a minute too late.
Oh, “What a shame!” you cry,
But you were luck no goose came to pry!

We go swimming around grey blocks,
Will we drown or keep our hands steady?
Whatever it is, my sail is at the ready.

Will they pull you from the ocean
but just a minute too late?
When I make you a party
What will we celebrate?
That you are celibate?

Daymare

You are like a dream that won’t go away,
Even when my eyes are closed
and as the pendulum sways,
I look up and can’t really say…

Was it a mistake all along,
Was it a lie, was it wrong?
Was it real or was it fake?
Answer me, for christ’s sake!

Intangible nightmare trapping daydream,
Things are not what they seem, oh,
Mary-Go-Round, turn turn turn around
Because you won’t go away
But when I ask, you won’t stay.
And so I said and so I walk astray-
Thoughts you would never betray.
If you ever loved me you just have to say.

Is Anybody There?

If we know it is all an illusion, why do we believe in magic? It is because we want to. Maybe it is a way to see the world through a different point of view, one that allows a sliver of fantasy to permeate the air and make us wonder “How did he do that?”. Maybe we are so appalled by our own frail and fallible existence that we want to believe there is something… more, something magical.

When you experience magic, you are not truly witnessing an illusion but a different thing altogether. You are staring death in the face and saying that you will live through it, you are telling yourself that loved ones that have passed away are still with you, you are telling yourself that there is, simple as that, magic.
After taking a look at life can we really say that there is no magic out there?

Sometimes life presents to us strangers that we will hate only to love after and then hate again, or maybe it will introduce us to people we seem to think are shallow only to find that, in reality, they are like us, all too human and too afraid, maybe they need to see more magic, maybe they need to witness a bit of the wonder of the illusion and laugh a little at life – and death. To understand that we are not a single piece on a lone puzzle but all part of an intricate and elaborate chain, we are the links to our past and, as the Iroquois would have it, we are the ones who must attend our children’s land until they can attend that of their own kids.

We are not a single person. We are young, we are old, we embrace the arcane and the cutting-edge. We are naive and jaded, we live by contradictions trying to find home, trying to give life meaning, trying to find for ourselves the right trick so that one might look back in life with no regrets. We will cry, we will laugh, we will change opinions, we will sway – some more, some less – as life whims it. And as those before us have it, so will we, as will those that come after us.

Maybe I’m a silly bugger for knowingly embracing the magic act but I’ll be damned if life isn’t all about making connections or rather, the human connection. At the end of the day, when asking myself to an empty room “Is Anybody There?”, I know that no answer will come because the room is empty and all it can tell me is that there is no such things as ghosts and magic. But if I shout it through my window… an angry neighbor will most definitely reply and we will both know we are not alone and that our actions… they carry on like ripples on a lake.
Seeing the power every choice we make carries, can anyone really say that there is no such thing as magic?

King of the Hill

It is a giant empty playground
With no playmates to be found
Oh, everyone is so afraid
They grab their nannies and maids!

Cry-babies, watch me sail
As a pirate atop the rail!
Climbing the jungle-bar
Guiding myself by a single star.

Because the sun is shining and we are still young,
So I’d rather go out, play and sing a silly song
than stay locked in my own little mind
Where not even myself I can find!

The world is my playground, it is my sandbox
I might not be the ‘populi’ but I have a ‘vox’!
I only break that which I can repair so,
See my works, ye mighty and despair!

Last Race of the Pariah

“Some days are better than the others”
Cries the mom and the brother.
To sacrifice all that we desire makes no sense
Numbed life is hell, I want it intense!

Excused as we all may be
From our sins – that never belonged to me -
People seek us to explain
“Why can’t you yourself restrain?”

I crawl my way uphill, out of this black hole,
Hoping to come out whole.
Meanwhile nobody is betting on me
Even thought the future they can’t see.

Inner Monologue

The sandstorm was asked to come
But the sand was nowhere
And the storm was none.

Tunnels collapsed
As time elapsed
but oh what shame
Pharaohs were buried the same!

Sandworm meet sandstorm,
Sandwich meet swampwitch
-Scare, scare, scareradish.

It is no wonder that this land
Is not wonderland
-I won’t wonder why.
-Your alliteration is shy.

The Young Baroness

She tried to find the exit sign but oh, there was no sign of it, anywhere. She expected to be sure and reassured but oh, it was all for naught. He knew her all too well and, while she might have eluded others, he could see right through her veiled secrets. She was so tired of never letting go, it had been a long year since she had last put her head on the pillows to actually get some sleep.

She wondered if he was just a hallucination caused by the lack of sleep but again, she knew it was for naught because he was all too real. She screamed and ran trying to get out but there was nowhere to go – trapped in a daydream inside her own mind, alone with him.

Lord listen to love, she is losing life, the alliteration of all the things she won’t, wouldn’t and didn’t.
She won’t listen, she wouldn’t love and she didn’t live. And for this we are all forever afflicted.

Old Boy

What if a sin committed was so strong
That nothing could right the wrong?
Unless… you forgot it all,
Destroyed it all, erased it all.
Would you finally be happy?

If the sin haunted the future
And the very words you say
Were by enemies uttered
Would tomorrow be better than today?

You cut your tongue so you would not speak,
Cut your memories so the truth wouldn’t seep.
And at this very moment, while the world laughs
-you, alone, weep.

This world lacks kindness
To strangers and acquaintances.
Destroyed it all, erased it all.
Forgotten by all, forsaken by all.

Wolfrunner

I’m feeling a lil’ bit wild,
I was tamed, that I won’t deny,
Won’t hide – But I’m feeling wild.

Run and climb,
Tongues grind
-Feeling wild, not tame
I’ll do like the lion and wear a mane.

Soaring wishes and bubble dreams,
Everything connected without seams
-A perfect cycle of which I’m part
Making my untame, wild art.

The Slaughter of Oakstown

Blissful tears and alacrity,
The shadow in the horizon told a story,
Unfolding itself as it drew closer
- A myth not a day older.

They could see the silhouette,
It was a man, considered lost by then.
They could see his worn out hat,
The wind tried to take it, to make a catch,
Alas the figure was alive and full of breath.

It kept coming closer and closer,
Close enough to distinguish his face from the darkness,
Close enough to see he had returned.
Close enough to see the murder on his grin,
As the drunk fought around and poured down gin.
He got too close, revealed too much,
They thought him mad, out of touch.

They shot him down where he stood,
A lost member from a lost brotherhood.
To this day, they await his return
But there is no silhouette to be seen,
Just ashes in an urn and killers far too keen.