Passion's a Commodity

Does Jerry really sound good
or is he just supposed to?

Are breaking down the doors of life

or doing it all like we're supposed to do?

It's destined. It's chosen.

Well up is down and left is right,

there's peace from war

but peace is worth a fight.

It's backwards. It's forwards.

Tis better to have loved and lost

than never to have loved at all.

But loving love will break ya down -

10 feet high to 1 foot tall.

It's lovely. It's lonely.

I don't know what you're doing.

I don't know what I'm doing.

I don't know what we're doing

but we're doing it anyway.

I don't know where you're going.

I don't know where I'm going.

I don't know where we're going

but we'll go there anyway.

Does education educate

or is it really just the time?

Does poetry still captivate

if blunted with the silly rhymes?

It's learning. It's living.

Silken suited toupee'd men

will wow you with their wild wit.

But the callused hands-ed philosophers

need no silver shovel to dig it.

It's thinking. It's building.

Passion, passion,

levels it all the same.

It's that red hot fire that heats the brand

that singes on the name.

It's heating. It's beating.

I won't know what you're doing.

I won't know what I'm doing.

I won't know what we're doing

but we'll do it anyway.

I won't know where you're going.

I won't know where I'm going.

I won't know where we're going

but we'll go there anyway.

--

Passion's a commodity,

bought and sold like jewelry.

Advertised and supervised,

scored and measured, criticized.

Passion is a luxury,

hoarded by the well-to-be.

Boarded, gated, manipulated,

monopolized, and well inflated.

It's passion. Just passion.

Passion's a commodity,

treasured loves and certainty.

Final stands, gestures grand,

rivers crossed, and bridges spanned. 

Passion is a luxury,

priceless value, somehow free.

Investigated, innovated,

grown and gathered, instigated.

It's passion. Just passion.

Couldn't tell you what we did.

Couldn't tell you where we went.

Couldn't tell you many things

about the time that we spent.

Couldn't tell you what we did.

Couldn't tell you where we went.

Couldn't tell you many things

but I'd do it all again.

Shorts #3

We have the tools, we know just how

to shape them, work them, and refine.

Squares and circles are chiseled down

Any peg may fit each hole.

But wouldn't it be better?

Wouldn't it be fine?

If we just left them all alone.

Shorts #1

The spit swirls down the shower drain 

a mesmerizing maze of bubbles and slime
but I have a feeling as I gaze at the spins
it shouldn't have been there to begin with.

Blue Bonnets

Well I think I'd like to thank you

but maybe curse you first.

A cold clear drink of water

but not enough to quench the thirst.

You showed me what was possible

then took it all away

and I'll never quite get over wishing

things could've stayed the same.

--

Not every story has a happy ending

nor every tragedy so quite impending.

So there's nothing left to do but sit and sing 

and think about blue bonnet fields in spring.

--

It didn't take too long for me

to fall in love with you.

There's no simple explanation 

for how quick the feelings grew.

It crashed on me and tossed me round

like waves on sun-beat sand.

I stumbled in foolheartedly

to your temporary hands.

--

Your majesty amazed me, 

your wonders never ceased.

Our time apart has brought me war, 

where once you brought me peace.

Not every story has a happy ending

nor every tragedy so quite impending.

So there's nothing left to do but sit and sing 

and think about blue bonnet fields in spring.

--

The deepest darks devour

all the lights of solemn days; 

a clashing cataclysm of

both predator and prey.

Tis worse to have lost a love

you'll never have again,

than to live in blissful ignorance

in the time of what had been.

--

Now you're gone, and blue bonnets cease to bloom.

The Texan fields I used to roam are Virginia mountain gloom.

And you're gone, but you made me love you first.

I'm thankful for the loving days, but spiteful of the thirst.

and I pray this story has a happy ending

for the tragedies just never stop impending.

I've got nothing left to do but sit and sing 

and think about blue bonnet fields in spring.

--

Joined Hands

We rarely pick our story's start, less often how it ends.
When following the asphalt lines, we flow through straights and bends.

Folks pass on by our hearts and minds like wind-swept shifting sands,

but love is born in moments dear, when two stop and join hands.

To some love is a melody they swear they know from birth

to others it's a flower grown, coaxed softly from the earth.

It's lightning in the darkest skies and laughing, tearful eyes.

Love is something powerful, it shines still when it hides.

For the hearth of lovers' union grants warmth from blizzard's snow,

smoothing out untrodden paths, no matter where they go.

Embraced in times of comfort, whether solemn-borne or glee,

in the heartbeats of a moment, there'll be everything to be.

The darkest of life's shadowed mirk may pale in lovers light.

Love may stoke the fires of pain and yet still settle every fight.

Love's the tight rope balance thrill but the safety net below.

It's a feeling often read and said, but you know just when you know.

Every mountain meets a valley but each valley another side.

Love is full of passion stoked by fear and hope and pride.

Burdens may befall us all, so heavy we can't stand,

but your love was born from moments dear, when you stopped and joined hands.

For in every challenge you may face, your love can still withstand.

Izzy

The worst thing is she'll never know,

or maybe she really did.

The worst thing is I never saw

and I'll never not see again. 

The last, frayed bits of string that tied

the battered ship adrift.

The roots of weeds both pulled and plucked.

The balloon that floats away.

Though she was just some fucking dog,

she was really so much more.

Though she was everything I loved,

now she's fucking dead.

I feel like I've been robbed at night

of the thing I cherished most.

But it was slow, this staggered fate:

twisting daggers as I bled.

I'm walking through the blemished days

listless journey, aimless path.

So how am I supposed to care,

of all that carries on?

and how am I to carry on?

when my heart has gone with her.

Aye Aye, Tumble and Die

There wasn't a blowout, there wasn't a fight.
There isn't a scar of a critical night.
We burned fast and faded, smoke's all remains.
The softest of burns, yet the harshest of pains.

So I traded the city for soft solemn breeze;

I traveled the oceans of waters and trees.

I scrambled my mind on the questions of life,

till fires were lit by the scorn and the strife.

--
Well the storm hasn't passed, 

though it's all in the past,
yet I've learned to dance in the rain.
The ship is still floating,
through the current's foreboding 
and I've learned to sail through the pain.
--

The hearth staggered slowly and sputtered away
as all of life colors then faded to gray.
The heat it provided, now all gone to cold
and all that remains is just bartered and sold.

Aye, aye, tumble and die,
so many a-times till the tears are all dried.
Feelings so vivid they'll blind you to numb,
till all that you're living's the beat of the drum.

--
Well the storm hasn't passed, 
though it's all in the past,
yet I've learned to dance in the rain.
The ship is still floating,
through the current's foreboding 
and I've learned to sail through the pain.

--

The winter's wind's whipping the sails overhead,
the summer's survival still left me with dread.
The seasons confound me and leave me alone
and I'm chilled though the clothing and muscle and bone.

The keel is still even and the sails take on wind

and all of my sorrows have fled me again.

Pull up the anchor, welcome new folks aboard

through fire and flames I'll venture once more.

--
Well the storm hasn't passed, 
though it's all in the past,
yet I've learned to dance in the rain.
The ship is still floating,
through the current's foreboding 
and I've learned to sail through the pain.

and I'm doing it over again.
--

The View

Well I'm living 

and that's a feat I'll say.

Dodged the bullets and the pathogens

to fight another day.

I used to fear what'd come on next

when these livin days are through.

And I questioned all the things I heard

'bout the day the checks are due.

Till I died,

for a minute there or two.

But it told me everything to know

of the end for me and you.

I saw no pearly gates

nor the fiery flames of hell,

didn't come around a second time

like the stories they all tell.

There was nothing:

I wasn't present anymore.

Weightless.

No wings, yet still I soared.

I saw no hands before me,

I saw no feet below.

I saw nothing there at all

so I sat back for the show.

--

It was dark

but then there was a star.

And more sparkling behind it,

glitter near and twinkle far.

There were galaxies a-swirling 

with more colors than I could see.

It was everything there ever was,

everything to be.

There was beauty dancing round

for as far as I could see.

It was everything there was except for me.

I felt no pain, 

yet felt no glee.

No sorrows and no loves,

there was nothing left of me.

Nothing left for me to feel,

nothing left for me to do,

there was nothing, 

except the view.

--

but I was living

after going through all that.

Woke up in the clinic bed

as it all came rushing back.

I was crying, I was happy

but was also deeply sad.

I was back amongst the world again

it was good, but it was bad.

I had seen it,

but I saw it all too soon.

I had left this

but my time here wasn't through.

I like to think it happened

that I felt the feel of death.

That I'll see the sights again,

when I've taken my last breath.

There'll be nothing

waiting there for me.

I'll be weightless

with all the sights to see.

I think that's how this ends

for all of us below.

We'll see nothing of ourselves

and every second of the show.

--

It was dark

but then there was a star.

And more sparkling behind it,

glitter near and twinkle far.

There were galaxies a-swirling 

with more colors than I could see.

It was everything there ever was,

everything to be.

There was beauty dancing round

for as far as I could see.

It was everything there was except for me.

We'll feel no pain, 

though feel no joy or happy glee.

No sorrows and no loves,

we are the truest form of free.

There'll be nothing left for me and nothing left for you.

For we are nothing. 

Except the view.

--

So sit on back 

and enjoy the view.

Iron in the Cove

I am not a play thing for you to toss and throw away.
I am not a trophy to be put up on display.
Now I feel the locomotion of gears grinding through emotions
and I don't know how to feel that I know that you won't stay.

I hate the lyrics of the song, but loved the melody,
'till the bitter bites of solitude come wake me from the dream.
Blankly I'll sit there hummin', when the mind wanders astray
and it all comes back and thrashes me as I rattle on my cage.

The notes they seemed to carry me, the wind on angels' wings.
Each gust a breath to lungs that filled, for which the moment sings.
Now the branches all stopped shaking, no leaves spin, twist, and twirl
the waves they tried to drown me, though they never seemed to curl. 

Beat and bashed and bloodied back to the salty ocean cove,
gasping, groping gushing moments clinging to some hope.
The water cannot take me lord if I remember just to swim,
the thoughts cannot consume me if I remember what has been.

Driving down this lonesome road till the dashes turn to dust,
paint it still dries faster than the iron turns to rust.
The horizon's warmth is coming. I will do just what I must.
Paint it still dries faster than the iron turns to rust.