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Thursday, December 27, 2007
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Not Over? (4th of July)
Category: Writing and Poetry
She caresses my face in frustration
and we perspire angry love and lies
on a tall bed
under low light.
It is her, I and apprehension
in a threesome
across the mattress
she thinks I admire.
When Saturday is yesterday
there is no talking this morning
and today I am hated,
I know there is no tomorrow.
When she phones to tell me never to call
and follows me to say never return,
I know on the 4th of July
there will be no fire in our skies.
9:55 PM
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Check One Two
Category: Writing and Poetry
A voice of concerning bass
breaks the tweeters seated
among the rain stained ceiling tile.
"Please disregard this alarm.
This is only a test", repeated twice.
The voice cuts clear and concise.
Peter Bjorn and John can not be heard
over repeating words,
"Check One Two."
"Check One Two," interrupts me.
My music soothing less effective
plays louder drowning the announcements.
Warning strobes flare
and the annoying voice, "Check One Two,"
booms to conclusion.
"The test is complete.
Please regard all following alarms."
The warm voice chills
and it is once again safe
to set a fire.
9:39 PM
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Wednesday, December 12, 2007
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Because the Last Thing I Should Have To Worry With
Category: Writing and Poetry
I should wear a suit
when I am clear to depart
for the final time.
I will not worry
for what is to await me
in a nice striped three-piece.
I shall leave content
will all but a carnation
that will be added later.
I will not require
any preperation at all
aside from base and make-up.
The functions I let loose
can even be left alone
to ride down with me.
Because the last thing
I should have to worry with
is some pervert fondling my cold dead ass!
3:17 PM
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2 Comments - 4 Kudos
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Warm Eyes Sad Night
Category: Writing and Poetry
I am glad under stars
that are sad as the night.
I find eyes held warm
for a walk a block away.
She dismisses my worry
and wonder of any other.
I forget regret months aside
That I wandered wayward.
A neon corner meets us
And welcomes us inside.
Small moments mount
bringing eternity early this evening.
The door held is hopeful.
The chair pulled is pleasant.
Ordering for both is bliss
And I see elation in her stare.
Her eyes held warm hold me near
late into this sad night.
I distress not that I am enough
and for once I AM desirable.
3:15 PM
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I Push and I Pull
Category: Writing and Poetry
I hold on so fiercely
to days I let loose.
I beg for forgiveness.
I push and I pull.
I speak like a storm
with abounding thunder.
I am struck with lightning
as I push and I pull.
I alienate with hatred
and the sores of my words
open new wounds.
I push and I pull.
I pull and I push
and I throw days away
to the solitude of sorrow.
I will leave here alone.
3:14 PM
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1 Comments - 2 Kudos
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Sunday, December 09, 2007
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A Little More Like Winter
Category: Writing and Poetry
I see a dryness brown
push back blades
of warmer greenest days.
The park panics this afternoon.
The few pedestrians braving
duck under a low groan of dirty sky.
Trees scream with December
and seagulls are all grounded
with a small bird advisory.
The wind blows as if the world ends.
A nor-easter is feasting.
I hear a cold sleet coming
and the ground is beat with freezing.
The wind strips limbs of color
and leaves them there standing bare
looking a little more like winter.
A Little More Like Winter
7:38 AM
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5 Comments - 4 Kudos
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Thursday, December 06, 2007
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I Stagger
Category: Writing and Poetry
This dizzy with I stagger
takes me places I would never visit.
Streets out of my way small hours of the day
cross beneath my feet discreetly.
Doors left unlocked, cold floors and ticking clocks
meet with the messiest mornings.
I find myself on frigid windowpanes
with hotel stains and eyes flooding good byes.
Neighborhoods that money forgot
I want to forget and never have known.
3:27 PM
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Sunday, November 25, 2007
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Here Comes the Dead (Debut of Everett Edwards age 9)
Current mood:  rejuvenated
Category: Writing and Poetry
This is the debut of Everett Edwards age 9. Everett wants to be a writer and a musician. He loves to play drums with his two brothers in their band, Act Natural. He wrote lyrics for a song one night and when I found them the next day I was floored by the power of his words. I got his permission to submit it for publication in a local anthology called Skipping Stones for which he has been accepted. I have shared this poem with everyone I know. Now, I share a very proud father's moment with my readers as I present Everett Edwards, my son, future best selling author! enjoy!
Here Comes the Dead
Here comes the dead
Struck in the days of 9-11
Watch out twins
Here comes the dead
Here comes the dead
but I'm just telling ya watch out
Here comes the dead
Good morning America
The days are hard now
I warned them once
I may have warned them twice
Here comes the dead.
Everett Edwards
7:49 AM
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Sunday, October 28, 2007
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Monstrosity @ CLub Relevant 10/27/07
Category: Music
6 bands took the stage last night (Saturday Oct. 27) for the Monstrosity show. Matt Hildreth and company put on a great all-ages event at a venue that I grossly underestimated from its appearance when I first arrived. I took all three boys to the concert ages 11, 9 and 6. It was Corey's first show, and the boys hung out in the lounge area playing N64 with a few of the guys before the show. When the show was set to begin, the boys were surprised to fnd that the first band were the guys they were beating at video games in the lounge. Club Relevant's concert area looks as though it were the warehouse for an old grocery store and did not appear to be able to house enough accoustics to host such an event. As the night passed with each band, I was amazed at how well each band's sound filled the space. The place was filled with fish bowl bass, in your face guitar crunch, crisp snare snaps and plenty of vocal attitude. Idefinately look forward to future shows.
You can find Club Relevant here on myspace @ Club Relevant.
7:25 AM
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Tuesday, October 23, 2007
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Somewhere on the 13th Floor
Category: Writing and Poetry
With a view from the 12th
she shops the strip mall
and browses its clientele
I stare at her staring at them
She notes their liberties
hand bags and
fists full of lovers' hands
in hand happily spending
She is not thrifty this high
held against her will
imprisoned with obligation
to see this day done
Just beneath the 14th
with the glass open well
the walls swell with every gust
She buys confinement
Where the stairs do not reach
the 13th floor of broken roses
and carefully placed petals
lines a love residing.
5:33 PM
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