that is what the internet has always been about for me... while ego loves the dream of fame and mass adoration... and all different parts of me get off on the creative inspirations and potential for interactions... and the rhymer and writer and music loving part of me loves the idea that some collaboration could happen... and the romantic (hopelessly hopeful, of course) dreams the one (or at least a libido fantasy) might come along and find me irresistible... the bottom line has always been - to keep in touch... find the beginning and it becomes obvious...
and now?...
and now, finally faced with losses i was so hoping would not become real, finally faced with the wasted time of believing the worst could not really happen, the worst arrives with a smile and a dance and a hope that all i said about the value and meaning of the music and map and story of a lifetime was just a joke, i mean, i wasn't really serious about how important that stuff was, was i?...
or something like that...
let's just overlook how simple and considerate it would be to have taken me seriously and even now, put the pieces back together... and to think i held out hope all this time... and all i have left are the pieces of the dream... a dream that i'll give all the love i can give every day of this life for as long as i live and then some, yeah maria, and you too maria, but my heart, you know... a dream that someone will be with me...
there is a bottomless pit of despair, a gaping wound of betrayed trust, a wide-eyed star of disbelief, and a child wanting to know - can i trust myself again... for i surely failed myself when the big one came... all these wasted years... there is a mountain of sorrow, an abyss of agonizing memories, and yet, all the baggage is right at the door of the plane waiting for someone to take my hand and jump with me... the bags can stay right there and fly away without me...
who could be so bold, so brave, so daring, so secure and trusting as i have been throughout this life... someone who could be with me.
Monday, October 20, 2008
stop, in the name of...
creative loneliness
and it gets so intense
deeper than i can explain
it comes from somewhere inside the core of me
and it's an agony
that wants to shut down my brain
it comes when creativity
wants to share
but only finds a void
beyond the smiling faces
annoyed
i cry out silently
who will care?
but if anyone hears
no one responds
i mean, what can you say when you see
when all hope is gone
and the creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to care
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to share...
a numbness falls upon the arms and legs
with such gravity
the hands cannot turn the page
a fatigue swallows all the energy
all movement suspends
is this just what comes with age
it comes when creativity
wants to share
but only finds a vacuum
and the body needs air
so sad
i cry inside of me
who will care?
but if anyone hears
no one responds
i mean, what can you say when you ...
just carry on
and the creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to share...
but if anyone hears
no one responds
i mean, what can you say when you see
. . .
and what do you see
when you look at me
from so far away
as you do today
from out in the crowd
you just see a cloud
there's just fantasy
without intimacy
you can enjoy the song
but you can't see
the depths beneath
the creativity
you can enjoy the show
but you can not be
a real part of
the creativity
and the creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to share...
still a muse from far away
is better than no muse today
so i thank you for your cheers
your laughter and your tears
the loyalty, the years
even if they are all in my mind
the memory
the fantasy
makes creativity
deaf dumb and blind
and somehow . . .
more kind
and somehow . . .
that is kind
what was left behind...
the creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to care
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
and the creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
creativity
wants to share
but nobody's there
and nobody's here
creativity
wants to share...
creativity
wants to share...
creativity
wants to care...
creativity
wants to share...
creativity
wants to share...
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
what it will be
the dust settles fast as it blows
the story is written in blood on the stones
the truth is told nobody knows
poets praise prophets and prophets curse poets
and pirates raid profits for fun
lovers and losers and lasers and liars
all fall at the sound of the gun
there is no difference between us
even as we struggle for identity
there is no magical purpose
even as we pride for posterity
there is no heaven in waiting
even as we grovel toward eternity
there is no ultimate meaning
there is only you and me
in this moment
you and me
and what we make of it will be
what it will be
the great ball of fire in the sky gives life to all
the dust settles as fast as it lives
the story is written in ash on the fields
the truth is what nobody gives
preachers praise saints and saints stay silent
as pirates raid pulpits for fun
holy and sinners and winners and saviors
all fall at the sound of the gun
there is no reason to go on
even as we fight for our victory
there is no virtue or value
even as we pose for our history
there is no great final reward
even as we pray for humility
there is no grand design
there is only you and me
in this moment
you and me
and all we feel and see
and what we make of it will be
what it will be
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