But I ...

But I ...
Can't fight this feelin' anymore,
I know that there's definitely more in store,
If I take this road less traveled,
I choose the long versus the short,
If I carry the load, not the lightest-
I build a ladder to the fort;
The kingdom of good fortune.
(So they that have been, report!)


But I ...
Can't fight this feeling anymore,
Every moment, seems like a chore,
Will I ever get a break,
Will I ever ...
Get to TAKE?


This feeling,
Of giving and giving
It hurts you know
But that's what they call
Living.
At least,
Living, when you grow.


So ill fight this feeling a little more,
Remember; what I started fighting for.
Ill sail this ship right to the shore,
And throw away the oar
Forever.

Plenty

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You don't believe there's enough love in the world?
There is plenty.
You don't think you have anything to give,
You have plenty.

Not pretty enough, not rich enough?
Life a bit down, making it rough?
Feel in your heart, you just can't go on?
This is the year of twelve - twenty
There is plenty.

Open your heart to a new dawn.

Do you look around and see devistation?
Hatred in numbers, a gross accumulation?
Do you wallow in doubt, fear and frustration?
Rise above yourself, you'll find jubilation.

There is plenty.
Enough to go 'round
You are your own creator, your own cognoscenti
Eliminate the moaning, and whining selfish sound.
Plenty. THINK Plenty!

The judgments, the trials
the calculations and rivals.
The comparison to Harrison,
and all his beguiles.

You have it too, I know you do
The creator is abundantly,
Living inside you.

Think greater than yourself,
Look for every little blessing;
From the sand beneath your feet,
to the Turkey and his Dressing. 

It's the little things that count,
When you add them up, they begin to surmount
The miracles and wonders, will pour from above
from within you, you will feel the Love.

From Darkness to Light

In all my days, 
amounting past eight,
I watched, I listened,
I cleaned my plate.

I took, I grew
I became who I am
I fell off the deep end,
Rose back up again.

I am who I am
Because she IS
From darkness to light,
I've become all of this.

In this skin I live,
I have seen so many lives,
Mystery and suspense,
wonder and surprise.

I share, I know now
As that's the only true trick
the rest is just static,
That will leave you sick.

I'd like to give to you,
as she has given to me,
The birth, the beginning
of something we can't begin to see.


If you open your mind,
If you open your heart,
The world will bestow upon you
The beginning to a new start.

The Horny Bastard

I roam this great land,

in search of cooler sands,

Charged the huge, great wide divide

In search of life, in which I can not hide.

This is who I am, this is what I do

I stick out like a soar thumb,

But then, of that you always knew.

I speak in tongue tied wales, screetching and grunting

Crushing the snales.

I’m bigger than you’ve ever imagined,

Gentle is not a thing I can fathom.

You might call it a stigma, this mark of the beast

It gets me into trouble, yet allows me to feast

Intimidation rules, when I charge - all out

But it’s not really “me”, yet it’s what they make it about.

I’m just a sweet, humble guy

A vegetarian even,

I get hot very easily,

Hence an obvious heathen!

Look past what you see,

This grey, that’s a part of me

You want me to smile big,

Well that’s the sort of thing you just can’t fix.

The Ultimate Balancing Act

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The poor man who makes himself, replete

Who bows down before his master,

kisses gently, his feet;

Shows his affection in glorious ways,

Makes himself whole,

For all of his days. 

To what power do we give;

This indignity of the material

Sights and sounds, 

appalling virginity of the ethereal. 

Oh the smell of perfumed skin

The taste of truffles, muscles of men

The sounds of techno, thumping in the ears

Ecstasy rushing, through the vein of all fears.

Illusions of grandeur, temporary fulfillment 

Painted pictures of vivid images, 

the psyche can't forget.

So what of that, the ultimate of sacrifice 

Giving up all our woes, all of our vice. 

Balancing "cautiously", the  Ninety nine percent of life, 

When the ultimate blessing,

Is choosing Light,

in lieu of all strife.  

I'M

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I'm narsasistic

optimistic,

I'm plagued by the Light.

I'm sexy & self-loathing;

stoic,

frozen by my fright.

I'm hopeless, helpful

haphazardly

I'm naturally, natural

careless and free.

Though careful

(around you)

not to say what you don't want me to say.
If over your head, it flew
I'll explain in whole, in an easy way.

I observe all the details,

make notes of every fail

I pray everyday,
and protect from going stale. 

You like me?

You like what you see?

I hope that it's ok

to pretend for me to be me.

In Defense of The Spoken About Man

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I hear what you say,
I'm not sure I agree.
but I'll just sit here
and let my judgements run free.

I can't defend him,
for else reasons why you'd contend
your feathers, ruffled in a bunch
and throwing arrows of pretend.

What you don't understand,
I can't just "say" to you,
It's a matter of tearing apart
the false from the true.

It's now up to me, to stick my head up - proclaim
that those arrows you point in his direction,
are all your own blame.
It's my responsibility to defend him now,
Litigating his right, he doesn't even know how.

You,
talking behind his back.
You,
blowing up smack
You,
Creeking your neck,
You,
Concealing your lack.

I'd rather not hear,
what your opinion hails
in defense of the battle
it's just one big fail.

The (Last) Hanging

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I like knowing where I'm at,
I appreciate the circumference of a tailspin gone flat.
I fidget and fawn,
Like a stealthy pawn,
Calculating nothing,
But the moves I've got wrong.

This tree is made for hanging,
A noose around it's neck,
Left swinging in the wind,
On this beautiful day, a-wreck.

I pulsate, I contemplate
I seize the moment fast,
Those old experiences of what has been done,
Are cause to say "at last" !

That tree, to me
Is like the burning bush
Begging me to leave behind,
Let go of
The swine within, and it's grotesque push.
Left carved without a spine.

Do you have the guts, the balls to hang himself?
Can you leave him here, with all his wealth,
Roasting out to dry,
An Apple in his mouth and carrots in his eye.

It's now or never, get sworded up
Strength is in the redeemer,
Requiring a move, abrupt.

But you won't, will you
You'll even have mercy for the wicked shrew
You'll let him perpetuate,
Until you choose.
Pull the cord on that noose.