An assorted collection of past writings from lyrics and what-have-yous. I have a rather large box filled of notebooks written in my 20’s that I have yet to review and edit; hopefully I may do that, and post these here. Probably would be a bad idea, actually.
until the first star came out/
when we were kings
and there was a time when we were kings
when we had more pounds of gold than we had hair
we weren’t bothered by the holes in our shoes
As water froze our toes
we would be stay out until
we saw the first star came flying to our feet
and you said that we should stay
until the next hundred more
And on nights like that who was i to disagree
And on nights like that who was i to disagree
saving mine
C/Ami/G (holds on G)
And I’m sitting here in a parked car
leaving room in the margins of this notebook
for liner note memories
and watching the rain paint
the streets glossy vertical black lines
and leaving out every third word
in an attempt to keep up
with the racing mind
And this light from the radio
is hardly enough
to reflect the white
from the paper
to discern the shapes
of the characters
that form the outlines
to these words
sometimes the light / not all together
sometimes the light finds you in the night
doesn’t let you go until (the next) twilight
and you sit there listening to the rain
washing out the dirt into the rivers again
sometimes we find ourselves not all together
and wanting to be taken apart
sometimes we find ourselves not all together
and wanting to be taken apart
sometimes we want to be together
but we know this is not the time
even as we write these letters to each other
and when we close our eyes
we are together
of faded memories of resin and grenadine
give me back my friends
the ones who i’ve lost or somehow forgotten
leave me the frame with faded green paint
and the canoe with a left-handed paddle
draw the curtains
to drown the light
there are times
when i need to shut down
and hide inside
and pretend
we’re living life in wartime
when in fact
there’s just too much light
take the covers
pull them over my head
turn the stereo on a little louder than what you can stand
and the words they’re singing
will paint little portraits inside your head
[and the words that you’re saying/sighing
will paint little portraits inside my head]
turn the radio on
to a station that’s between the numbers
and listen to the white noise as it crashes over us
and you can’t hear anything moving outside
the plastic faded memories of resin and grenadine
of lone star states
unreleased
a holiday
i’m
going for a holiday
don’t know when i’ll be coming home
i’ll be gone for a little while
be sure to close those shutters when it‘s cold
i’m going for a holiday
when the snow comes i should be home
i’ll be coming home
some day i will come home
had me a whiskey summer
wishing I was somewhere closer to you
than my worn pictures/memories
and now the fall leaves’ve been whispering to themselves
their plans to all rush to the ground/give in to gravity
and soon the rain
will stop falling
giving way to the snow
they all must say goodbye
must say goodbye
because they will always
leave you wanting more
leave you wanting more
suppose that’s life and that;s good
leaves you always
wanting more
from grand & failing
longest day
the longest day is over
and all the cubans have found their way home
the longest day is over
and december will always be weighing on your mind
all your friends are over
and they have taken all your drinks
and are laughing at you
again
and you’re hoping for a breakdown
to get you out of this tin shed
and start walking
this land with your thumb
and too often memory gathers its shards and stands waiting outside a greyhound bus stop
in wichita
and the faces that you pass by
they
stay with you
through the next twenty miles
and when you died did you feel
your body getting lighter
as you hovered above that operating
table
could you feel a smile on your face
and did you see my grandfather
is he still drawing history
even now
the longest day is over
and if i could be my own country
if i could be my own country
then this will do for now
grand & failing (not quite right)
thought i heard your voice this morning
long after you had left and gone
you were was calling for our little one to come home
from where he had gone
thought maybe you had turned
into a ghost on me once again
thought there was something not quite right yesterday
when i saw a man kicking another when he was done
a group of others stood and watched the fray
and more than a few added to the blows
above our door the birds kept up with their flirting
while half a block away the blood began to flow
thought of things as i sat and watched
and like the tide the crowd finally ebbed away
and i thought that day was a beautiful one
it was when your son was born that day
catalog
(your) promises are like leaves in the fall
by winter they’re gone
red rimmed eyes
smoke-filled lies
like the barnyard sparrow
how you know (when) to fly south
for the winter
and i’ve kept a catalogue of all your dirty little thoughts
of how many lies
you’ve tried to smile away
of how many other’s recycled thoughts
you’ve tried to pass away as your own
everyone has a cancer burning inside of them
your lies are like a cancer
burning you inside
one needs to stay for a winter
for the rain to wash them away
on my mind
and the day i went blind
i could still see your smile
the teeth that shone like
stars in the night
and you still carry that
moonlight smile
that melts my inside every time
tell them they’re high, that they’re on my mind (2x)
it was late
summer time
and the sun had turned the roses
the color of dust
the color of dust
last night i had fireworks
light off in my head/mind,
and they flared and sparkled and burned
until there was nothing left inside
driving by moonlight
driving by moonlight,
reaching past 70 to cut a few minutes short,
pinch the arm am i still awake
the night holds the light tightly in its grasp
not letting a sliver sliver out cold so what, rains so much
the fireplace will warm at least with the
light
light
dust so high
feels like walking through thigh-high sand
three legged couch makes for a
poor shoulder to sleep on
and there’s holes in the floors
can’t walk around after dark
throw the curtains into the fire
pull another book down in front of the light
watch the words dance about the pages
and thinking about painting the ceiling a new shade of
white
white
sold it all, kept on driving
pulling away from nothing
sheets for curtains
you can feel the air breathing
between the glass and the skin thin cotton
and the walls they have been breathing
and the books they have talking
to themselves at night
from leftovers from a wake
leftovers from a wake
with
the moon
weighing heavily on your shoulders
you’ll keep walking on til your shadow
disappears
cold
cold is it
cold it was
and you will breathe in, breathe in the rain
lonely as god
and white as a winter moon
as we find ourselves
amongst leftovers from a wake
and there will be time
for traveling on for more
sunset miles and miles and you
you’re lonely all the time
lovely all the time
ever since he left your side and tonite
your sins are opened wide
and there’s nothing
for the rain to wash away and when
when
you grow up
you find the moon
the moon is full of lies and roses
roses can leave
saccharine scars
and how long can you wait
for this water to turn (to wine)
(note: “lonely as god, and white as a winter moon” taken
from a mt shasta description by poet joaquin miller, natl geographic oct 2001)
blood meridian
i have come from a hell
seeking water for these lips
i have walked across deserts
with scalded souls
i have followed a judge
who had made gunpowder from coal and piss
i have come for the gold
promised of every scalp
i have liberated
unjustly from its head
and one asks how far a man can travel
without water or blood on his hands
and lord i have wandered
i have wandered
but never alone
and the judge he says
drink up
drink up
for this night
thy soul
may be required
required of thee
from the picturetime collection
picturetime sweetheart
got a wartime lover at the turn of a century
but never can i hold her closer
than the lipstick she leaves on each letter she writes
she lives so many miles away
she’s a beautiful as first snow
and the air about her
always smells like red wine
and she never leaves you like a bottle at closing time
forgetting her is as easy as losing
your shadow
got a picturetime sweetheart
whose letters I leave unopened
for fear of finding these words:dear tom I still love you
always have and ever will
but my dear the miles between are too far
so the time must come
to write these words to say to you
and I hope not to bring you down
but every good love
every pure love
every good love must come
to an end
so I turn off the lights
and close my eyes
and I can still see her pictured in the walls of my mind and I’m a stray dog who
keeps
coming back
to the memories of when I held her last
it was a picture perfect postcard
of a paris in the rain
and oh how it’s taped up in the walls of my mind
so if you ever find a place dear
where the suns sleeps in summer
where love won’t wither on the vine
be sure to send a postcard
I’ll be sure to tape it
To the wallls of my room
It’ll still be there waiting
for your return
would if i could i would
would if i could
i would
call you friend or lover
and to this world I add
that i wish you were here
tonight on this ocean of roads
and that we were drifting
lying on our backs watching the sky move overhead
with the moon nuzzling up to the clouds,
because sometimes my dear
the night gets so beautifully
lovely
lonely
yellow line
thought of you as I crossed that yellow line
trying to find a river to bury this car
now I find myself driving past widow’s houses
thru an aging land divorced from still waters
and I caught myself, I caught myself falling
again
and I found myself, I found myself dreaming again
sold it all kept on driving
looking for a place where the snow meets the sand
a place where the bridges have melted in the heat
but nothing, kept on driving
driving thru places where the pictures are bolted to the walls
and the walls they have been breathing
and the books they have been reading themselves to sleep at night
places where gideon’s and cable can always be found
met a stranger took a gamble and lost everything
now I find myself building stone walls for nothing
and waiting and wondering
if you’re still counting stars until I come home
and I caught myself
I caught myself falling again
and I found myself
I found myself dreaming again
and I found myself
I found myself high again
and I caught myself
I caught myself crossing that yellow line once again
more fingers than teeth
welcome
my son
to this land of four seasons
of present tense here and now
there’s such a rush to get outdoors
for the sun hasn’t gone yet south to sleep
it’s been so long since I heard your
smile on the phone
i’ve been swimming near the bottom for too long
waiting for the hunters to leave
waiting for the leaves to turn to rust
then lord will I give in to settling down
of planting seeds and waiting for the trees to rise
that’ll be the time when cars stop breathing
a time when i’ll have more fingers than teeth
leaving las vegas/waiting for the water
and
i’ll be leaving in the morning from las vegas
in a pine box that’s built for two
and lord it’s been a long one full of moonlight smiles
and warm summer hands but lately i’ve only been feeling
ocean water with its rise
and eventual fall
and lord have i been drinking
just to stop the thinking
and lord have i been drinking
just to stop the thinking
of the lovely one
that you’ve taken, taken from me
and lord this easy life’s not so easy
when you’re living it with nothing to fill
the emptiness inside
and lord it’s a long one to wait
for the water to turn back to wine
and sometimes water so sweet
and sometimes water so bittersweet
and lord have i been drinking
this water from the wine
and lord have i come to believe that when you took her
you left a part of her in me
that’s kicking and screaming to be let out
that’s slowly dying inside of me
and lord have i been drinking
just to stop the
thinking
and lord have i been drinking
yes i have been drinking
and lord have i been sinking
have i been sinking
the marathon runner
i
can fly but i have a fear of coming down
at 25 i learned to craw
in two years i’ll be running away from here
and last night i ran a marathon
and i waited for the stars to burn themselves out
because the stars, they blind more than the sun
bromaldehyde
bromaldehyde
and somedays the nights are too long to wait
for the mornings to come
and somedays i’d swear the mornings
have disappeared
and last night i ran a marathon
with my feet nailed firmly to the floor
and i won’t stop running
til the morning if it ever comes
bromaldehyde
bromaldehyde
mind spinning
filled with thoughts of what i can’t do with you
and tonight i’ll hold this candle til i burn
and i wonder if i can make it through the last call
without a not so nervous breakdown
because i can fly but i have a fear of coming down
i can fly but i have a fear of coming down
in the eye
thought by now
I would have
forgotten your smile
spent a year last week
trying to forget
wasn’t sure
if I was supposed
to drink what was given to me,
smells like
something
you put on your skin after you cut it
the moon has come
and gone
the birds
are starting to look for the worms
and you’re as
beautiful
as first snow
from other collections
turning right, motioning left (broken turn signal)
been driving like i’m in a movie
never really see what’s going round
can’t remember the last time that my feet
have touched the ground
been driving like i’m i a movie
where nothing works on the dashboard
because it’s all made of cardboard
and there’s no back seat but a backlot
and wherever i go it feels like someone’s watching me
and wherever we go and whatever we do
the water’s still coming in at my feet.
but nothing ever felt so real
as this driving
nothing ever felt so real
salsipuedes
been driving for days
must’ve fallen asleep at the wheel
woke up in a town called salsipuedes
the air here tastes just like whiskey
and i stand here waiting for my memory to return
then i’ll drop my glass and split in two
at the cock’s crow it was 106 degrees
in the shade of my shadow
my car was a black oven on wheels
so i got out and walked the street
past gardens of steel rust
and fences with barbed fangs
couldn’t find my reflection much less a stray thought
to call my own
this town’s more like a prison where everyone wants to get out
the houses stand here til the last nail rusts then they all fall in a silent heap of
termites and dried blood
you can smell the poison in the air
out here even the devil shovels his own coal
and out here you take those wings off your shoulders
out here you take those wings off your shoulders
hole in the head
and these words that come to your hands
they come from a hole
that hole is in my head
my head it feels so heavy
it feels like falling to the ground
and the ground is very damp
so very very damp
from this hole in my head
and more words come to your hands
more words that you can hold
these words you put in a box
a box that lies by your bed
a box that overflows
with these words from my head
and these words might make you sigh
and these words might make you cry
and these words might make you laugh
and these words might make you go to a 3-story window
overlooking the sky
the sheltering sky overhead
kingsbury
black painted on white, falling to the green
another roll with another’s life
kingsbury pale, where have you gone
where have you taken my life
with my head full of plaster and lungs made of smoke and clothes filled with soot and
ashes
let the first blow fall softly on the nail
just let me down easy
let me down slow
i can dance upon the tip of a needle without breaking skin
i should’ve been a mountain not a leaf
to be blown about carelessly
sullen october eyes
tennessee’s not the place to be when you’re sitting on a park bench and writing
a letter to keep yourself company
you say you find it’s easier
to let the liquid down before the words come stumbling
out
if at all
sullen october eyes
closing towards the winter
sullen october eyes
have done their best
waking to a new face in the mirror every morning
what i want to know is have you found yourself
and you wonder if people remember you wrapped in cracked leather and laugh, lala la la
sullen october eyes closing towards the winter
sullen october eyes have done their best
north, smoking
and isn’t it funny how you wish for more fires to burn
with the thought that the burning
will bring you closer to her
a thousand acres of flame
that wave but do not drown
as they reach for the sky
and bring
everything down
thought i’d start on my way
north smoking
light a match every hundred miles
thought i’d start on my way
north smoking
light a match for a friend
but i lost faith in fires