Whiskers

A brotherhood halved by a single action,
The survivors remain, wholly by faction.
The battle rages without a shot,
tobacco alone, or drugs and pot.
Your cloudy past pollutes the home,
a traitor alive, out on the roam.
A pen did more than knife or spear,
a third strike now our greatest fear.
Sly like a mouse, but more of a rat,
making us ill where once we were fat.
Whiskers your name,
heinous your fame.
Clueless to hate,
yet freedom your fate.
A traitor and a liar,
a seller, yet a crier.

You have no peace in this our castle,
the price you pay not worth the hassle.
Hated by all, yet absorbed by a few,
Ruined alone, by all that you knew.
Smoke and speech have done us in
Open your eyes and see this sin.

Drowning.

With the tightest grips you take me in,

grabbing tight, and stretching thin.

Your existence clear from inception,

you arrival clear at the mention.

My soul your food, your body and life

the unseen wounds sharp as a knife.

My bottles, my trees can't save me here

even at best, you're away with a leer.

You are the ocean, finite and not.

I am the other, so I sit here and rot.

Drowning in pressure I only see blue,

one bad night and that's your cue.

So do I sit and wait on the clock,

or do I face you, here with my glock?

Looming and glooming you wait to arrive,

holding me back where I'm trying to strive.

You show the end, nothing but doom,

holding me back, here in this room.

Those golf balls are hollow, though firm to the touch

as I lead with spirit yet fall on my crutch.

Invisible to all but those you take,

Yet every life you somehow shake.

You are the ocean, you are the sea.

What am I, Why can't I be me?

Confusion

We met in a hurry,
We talked in a flurry,
You sat on my lap,
and you made me your sap.
I left that night with nothing to show,
but that wouldn't be your last time on the row.
Given a week you found your way back,
with a half-hearted smile at each joke I would crack.
Your body exposed, but your mind still in view
making a decision I knew you would rue.
A solemn kiss and my heart in your grip,
while the truth lies at sea, out on a ship.
So there we sat in our blissful hell,
like a salesman out of shit to sell.
So do I live by morals or pleasure,
which does life truly measure?
The beatles know you by a road,
yet I can't forget the thoughts that flowed.

The Ballad of Neal

Now normal's a way I haven't felt in awhile,
They all say they know me, never walking the mile.
On Wednesday you'll find me with Jim for the night,
Always at peace, never wanting to fight.
My best bud calls me from home or from here,
I'm hard pressed to find something left I still fear.
All of the play in Howey 'n' the Hills,
All washed away in my bottle of pills.
And do I do it for the fun or the thrills?
Or do I partake for the thoughts that it kills?
I love so much all these things that I hate,
Can I escape it or is it my fate?

I have my roots in that old peaceful sod,
yet I am now a great golden god.
A worthy brother, and a glorious friend,
I'm living this life 'till its very end.

I live my life by the code of the south,
spreading my art with guitar and mouth.
For what's a man without a code?
A solemn soul along the road.
A road so dark with just one light,
no cars coming, none in sight.
The rules I know are but my own,
for after all my life's on loan.
I take this time for what it is,
enjoying every laugh and kiss.
And when life finds its eternal way,
I'll have no regrets left to say.