Tell Me What’s Worth Fighting For?


Tell me what’s worth fighting for?

Inky blackness, wet with regret?

We stand alone in a crowd

We stand huddled in the masses

 

Being herded towards a cosmic cliff

Diving to the rainbow rocks below

Shades of brown becoming shades of red

My endurance meant nothing at the end

 

I’m not allowed to say certain things

I live listless nights portraying

a confidant, a friend, a mentor

All for nothing, all for nothing

All for nothing, all for nothing

 

Dew droplets rush past

Such a waste is the past

We reflect in torment the lives we changed

But we cry the most for our own

 

Drenched in sweat…we survive the fall

Born from the ashes of ourselves and battle

I converse in solace to two souls willing to prattle

We hit the bottom.

 

I jolt— Awake, confused and lost

I am among the land of the dead.

I shuffle with my brethren to the bread lines

Remembering my falling dream…my fallen dreams.

My crayon colored canyons filled with blood

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My Open Love Letter to Music


Feeling the quick-paced displacement of your heart, as it flutters to the beat of a specific drum, is nothing shy of facing mortality.  Music gives you the momentum to strive for inner greatness.  Immortals lack creativity, because that one moment that gives life meaning…never comes.  It hangs stagnant in the air, being ignored by those that don’t care; however for us mere mortals we thrive off of the thought of death.  We design our society around it– For death not only accentuates life…it gives it meaning.  Music is an extension of this elongated metaphor.  It makes my heart beat rapidly, just as it does when I think of Celeste, or put pen to paper.  It is an eternal muse, that I will always try to please, because it has given me so much.  Thank you musicians of the world.  Thank you.

Remember Me


I wish upon the stars for one last breath, one last thought, one last moment with you.  I may be gone, but even in the darkness I dream of only one true love and that love is what keeps me in your thoughts.  Your blonde locks and blue eyes always leave me wanting more of your gorgeous smile, but today is the today that I have to say goodbye.  I don’t want to go, but the Devil has come to collect and I’ve only got a Chevette and red Chucks to carry me away.  Remember me, remember me.  I’m almost dead, I’m almost gone.  Be happy, be strong.

Mr. Jiggles and The Who


Mr. Jiggles

Ever rhyme without a reason, or care?  Ever feel the need to feel the sensation of the season, or dance with a bear? Neither have I, but do we ever truly know our own mind’s eye?  I think not, but, yet again, what do I know?  I’m just a young pup with his peacock feathers up for show.   Like a traveling Russian circus I’m all lights and no pizzazz…yet.  But, if I were you I would lay down a bet.  Odds are one day I’ll be something great, and more than less, your bet will pay off at a better rate.  Not to boast like my young friend, however, I know with age comes a mind on the mend.  Heed my diction; please mark them.  There will be no cause for friction, only meaningful REM.

The Who

An eternal moment lost and only found by the individual who masters time, who attempts to supersede death in an effort to unshackle the lock and heart with same skeleton key.  This dead bolt only reveals an archway that leads the beholder of the key to a graveyard filled with an immeasurable amount of locks that no key will open.  Age is not the question, nor is wisdom, but happiness unlocks all.  The one who seeks this refuge will find all the coffins ajar with no locks and the Who that found time will find that his key will no longer be necessary.  It’ll disappear into the abyss of the six-footer that no man glimpses without loss.  Another moment followed by an infinite amount of other moments is merely life.  Don’t be afraid that the prior moments have passed, but embrace the next and as soon as the present moment is slow view the happiness that has already occurred and shed a tear and chortle, and then grab the next moment by its thread and hold it tight.  If you don’t then there will be only one consequence…you will be the Who with the key that opens no locks and no hearts.

Mr. Jiggles and The Who


Mr. Jiggles

Ever rhyme without a reason, or care?  Ever feel the need to feel the sensation of the season, or dance with a bear? Neither have I, but do we ever truly know our own mind’s eye?  I think not, but, yet again, what do I know?  I’m just a young pup with his peacock feathers up for show.   Like a traveling Russian circus I’m all lights and no pizzazz…yet.  But, if I were you I would lay down a bet.  Odds are one day I’ll be something great, and more than less, your bet will pay off at a better rate.  Not to boast like my young friend, however, I know with age comes a mind on the mend.  Heed my diction; please mark them.  There will be no cause for friction, only meaningful REM.

The Who

An eternal moment lost and only found by the individual who masters time, who attempts to supersede death in an effort to unshackle the lock and heart with same skeleton key.  This dead bolt only reveals an archway that leads the beholder of the key to a graveyard filled with an immeasurable amount of locks that no key will open.  Age is not the question, nor is wisdom, but happiness unlocks all.  The one who seeks this refuge will find all the coffins ajar with no locks and the Who that found time will find that his key will no longer be necessary.  It’ll disappear into the abyss of the six-footer that no man glimpses without loss.  Another moment followed by an infinite amount of other moments is merely life.  Don’t be afraid that the prior moments have passed, but embrace the next and as soon as the present moment is slow view the happiness that has already occurred and shed a tear and chortle, and then grab the next moment by its thread and hold it tight.  If you don’t then there will be only one consequence…you will be the Who with the key that opens no locks and no hearts.