The Winner - poem

I like watching the trains in the yard.
Loading up and speeding out into the dark.
My only wish is to be on one.
Run past the fences and dodge the security guard.
Run up beside and jump into the boxcar.
I don't care where it's going, if the ride is long.
From this town I've been banished.
They were too scared of understanding.
Who knew differing ideas would lead to trouble.
As quick as lightning.
Took to the street rioting.
But it only seemed to hurt my cause.
Now my eyes are back on these trains.
Bailing is sounding good again.
Maybe the next place will welcome me with open arms.
Succeeding will make them look like fools.
After all, they tried destroying my tools.
Revenge could be swift, but the gloating is better in the long run.
I can be kicked out.
Friends threatened with death if I'm even thought about.
Should know better than to push too much.
You've seen what it can do.
Turns the crowd against you.
And I win by playing the victim.

Unfinished poem, but coming along

The city lights, are blocking out the sky.
Holds no remorse, we came chasing the pie.
Our own faults, for having that spark lit in our eye.
Believing we are bigger than life.
The city doesn't care for us.
Wants our money then helps us die.

The shops are an illusion.
A front for a capitalist collusion.
Marketed towards hipster fads and ideas.
The new way of thinking has been created by those pigs.
Taken the city by storm.
Inviting their guineas to become residents.

There's graffiti on the 1st street bridge.
Downtown's become a center for pro gentrification.
Corner's littered with big box stores selling health foods.
Farmers markets being shunned because they're not hip and cool.
Brick buildings have been replaced with glass.
Homeless being marched out of town by a wealthier class.

Did Not Answer - poem/song

I hear the bell ring.
As I'm climbing the stairs.
Walk through an empty hallway.
Towards the lab to see if anyone's there.
Hope I'm the first to get back.
Can't stand those awkward stares.
Take a big deep breath.
Reach the corner, on my last steps.
The faces inside hold the torments.

Struggle every day.
With my own demons.
Forced to interact.
With people who just encourage it.
Wears a person down.
Like your not worthy of being human.
I pray that they get theirs.
An unpleasant surprise from their maker.
To feel what it's like to suffer.

They say you are your own worst enemy.
Well today that's true.
Always results with a loss somewhere.
Communities frantically looking for clues.
Always a could have, never a should have.
Compassion can't be taught, should always be part of you.
Be a friend when one is needed.
Who doesn't need someone to listen?
Who doesn't need a friend?

Time Will Erase You - poem

Take a gander.
The view should outrage.
Lucky the dead can't act.
You'd be torn apart and destroyed again.

Wanted to make a point.
Determined
A star in another life?
To the living your nameless.

Did you think twice as you pushed the button?
Consider anyone else?
Too blind with faith.
Leaving lives in ruin.

Not a way to get compassion.
Won't be winning any voters.
Outrage, not support.
Condemnation for any violent action.

The public might be lazy.
Not ignorant
They'll stand together.
Collectively oppose any brand of extremism.

I Only Enjoy 2 Months music video

A little video I made. Not much to look at, but the main focus is the song. It's just a rough demo of the track, but it gives an idea.

A new picture

Hamburger Hill - poem

Woke up and grabbed my piece.
Stormed out the door, a grimace on my face.
Several weeks of ongoing battles, today is the day.
Didn't join up to watch the inside of a room.
Putting up a good fight making heads go boom.
If death is what the man wants, we'll be meeting the quota soon.

Told not to take prisoners.
They just bark or whine.
We tell them to be quiet.
Or shove a grenade down their throat.
Try not to show excitement.
After they explode.

Running up that hill.
Adrenaline running high.
Nerves through the roof.
Shot at by bullets of every size.
Bodies roll to the bottom pit.
Most dead, but a few still alive.

Make it too the top.
And there's nothing to see.
A bombed out crater.
Littered with corpses shred apart like hamburger, no grass, no trees.
Regardless of where I go.
The sight is embedded in my memory.
To this day I can't eat a cheeseburger.
So I'll take a chicken sandwich please.

The News - poem

Nothing can bum you out more than the news.
Depressing and mean-spirited with a bit of lies and a sprinkle of truth.
The anchors read their stories.
No emotion, like they're set on cruise.
Thinking they deserve attention.
Just because they're "handsome" or "cute".
I'm not really interested in watching the news.
Each segment is lame.
Not newsworthy at all.
Do sports really need a dedicated hour?
Who cares who kicked, hit, or threw a ball.
Accidents occur.
I feel bad for the family whose son took a head first fall.
But shoving a camera into his crying mothers face.
Camera guy, come on.
The weather girl is gorgeous.
Just as long as she doesn't talk.
The only way you can sit through it, is by turning the sound off.
The guests are all horrible.
Smug and completely out of touch.
Refuse to hear anyone else's voice.
So I refuse to give a F/.
Opinions passed of as fact, that's what theses stations have sunk to.
That is why I'm not keen on the news.

Another One - poem

Sometimes I'm in a group.
But mostly by myself.
Sometimes I am rude.
I curse and I yell.

My actions are violent.
Though directed internally.
Few have ever noticed.
I've adapted to be discreet.

Of whom I have met.
Only one I can rely on.
With my age that is a disappointing fact.
One which time has stood on.

Need A Big Yard - poem/song

Something a little different...

One on the line.
Two in the shed.
Three in the ground.
Four more going in next.
Just meeting their fate.

I feel some remorse.
But I get wrapped up in the moment.
I'm never gonna show it.

The line stretched out.
The shed's gotten dirty.
The ground's all muddy.
Weigh the boxes down.
Or they'll just keep reemerging.

I feel some remorse.
But I get wrapped up in the moment.
I'm never gonna show it.

Waiting for rain.
To wash my conscious clean.
What's done is done.
Can't go back, I have no time machine.
Reserved to our own destiny.

I feel some remorse.
But I get wrapped up in the moment.
I'm never gonna show it.

Washed the line.
Cleaned out the shed.
Plant flowers on the ground.
Have to find me a new spot.
A bigger yard with a higher fence.

Stop The Clock - new poem/song

Something new that's just finished. Not sure I like it that much, but hey, they can't all be winners.

Becoming too content.
As you do with age.
Search for adventure.
But too afraid of change.
Eyes glued to the clock.
Twiddling thumbs, never blinking.
Growing older and older as the hands tick and tock.
Can't escape the clutches, the hands pulling you down.
Life isn't a sport you can turn off or on.
Time works against you, you can't stop the clock.

Stressed beyond belief.
Not a chance for relief.
With myself I sit alone.
Finishing off another Viet Coke.
My brain is racing.
The alcohol kind of helping.
Easing the crazies.
Relaxing the unease.
Life isn't a sport you can turn off or on.
Time works against you, you can't stop the clock.

Broke beyond repair.
Deserves to be thrown in the trash.
Not enough resources.
Not enough cash.
No amount of reprogramming.
Could salvage our wasted time.
Sing a song of hope.
To deceive our minds.
Life isn't a sport you can turn off or on.
Time works against you, you can't stop the clock.