Brain Dump, Just Clearing Some Things Out of My Head

Shedding, and Other Forms of Public Indecency

Oh to be reborn, if such could ever happen
But this function-less form is conceptually demeaning
Yet this nagging itch persists its scratch-proof crawl
It's wending, winding list, this wishing for a claw
Instead of limbless pith, flip wisdom for your height
No point in being lithe when everything is out of reach.
Oh that I could shed these scales and tails for nails,
Escape the shrieks and wails of everyone that sees my face
Erase the shame of slithering and hold my head of high
Without every being withering, thinking they're about to die.
Hoping for a vaccination to cure this dust and dirt disease
Wishing for a new creation to come breaking forth inside of me
Found a spot, a jagged rock, to pierce the dying scales
Lie and wait for night to block my image of myself
I wonder again, can I shed my skin, this iteration's wearing thin
Maybe another one will soon begin, if I could only shed these fangs.


Black Light

All this incessant click clicketty click clicking
Keeps interfering with my intercessant ticking
Of items off my "have God do" list
All these pointedly pointing pointers, I wish
Would stop clicking on what ticks me off
Then firing pointedly back on me.
A seizure in the neon lights
A seizure of our basic rights
By our own desires for liberty.
Amid these flash, flashy, flashing lights
You come as a thief in the night
Because everything bright has gone wrong
And everything right is long gone.
And the faces are flashing with novelty's packing
The prizes for which we've all longed
As the website's hit counter rolls on
And insight is left drinking alone
Thinking alone,
Common sense left and never came home
Got lost in a luminous screen.
Maybe You've come back unseen
Cause we'd all been blinded by bright, shiny things.

I'm tired

I'm highly uncomfortable with faith
It seems somehow so unreal
Like a disingenuous flashy invention
To teach me how to smile when I feel
Alone. Or scared. Or angry
To hide our glares with our tongues
Climbing borrowed ladders to glory
Returned missing its rungs.
Maybe nobody follows the same paths
Maybe nobody feels these same things
Maybe I'm out here alone in my thoughts
By myself with only my dreams
But who doesn't pray for their dreams?
I can't be the only one, right?
I mean, everyone prays for themselves
For their health, for their sins, for forgiveness
For escaping their own private hells
Or am I the only one with that problem?
Or
I
I
I
I
Maybe there are too any "I's" in these sentences
Perhaps to many "me's" in these prayers
Too little you in these penances?
Perhaps gratitude and attitude make
Better bedfellows than partners in rhyme
Perhaps too many words blur a purpose
And syllables make it easier to hide.
I think that maybe I loved you
Once, a few years ago
And then I sat out to study you
And I've barely liked you once since.
So I guess all that I'm asking,
Yes, it's come back to me
Is for the eyes to see what's around me
And enough of you to love what I see.

How is Mark actually listening to his wife when he's counting seconds until he gets the Klondike bar?

Rivers of Thyme

Jaded shut and rusted through
If I'd only paid attention to
The restrictions of this clay and dust
A metal man can only rust
But clay men turn to mud
Then back to dust and ash.
Standing under every overpass
Just watch, watch, watchin' the sky
And wond'ring when I'll transcend
Or if all alone in the end
I'll still believe I can fly.
I'm thinkin' I might like to die
It has to be easier to hide
Than to walk and maintain this disguise
Or keep hoping I might be surprised
As I stand and ponder the cosmos
Seeing white mountains pass by
And dissipate into the sea.