The only road block
The only road block
Like a child sent to his room
I’m stuck staring, blindly
thinking about what I’ve done.
Because I’m still healing, I mean
it’s really no excuse except to acknowledge how
I’m just like everyone…
It takes many self destructions
for a man to realize
there is nothing so meaningless
as to destroy what he has yet to understand.
When I was a kid—after bedtime—as quietly as I could, I would crawl from my bed, onto the floor, then elbow and knee my way down the hallway to lay in the doorway of my brothers room to watch his television.
He’s four years older than I am and, well, I thought he was really cool.
One, for having a TV in his bedroom. And two, for probably knowing I was there but not saying anything.
Whatever he was watching didn’t really make a difference but it was comfortable there, on the carpet, with the blue light flashing.
A dark bedroom can be pretty scary to a child, especially during a thunderstorm.
Now that we’re older, we speak when it is necessary, but not all the time.
Probably less than either of us cares to admit.
He’s a busy working husband and parent while I’m pretty much all over the map.
Though when we do talk, it’s a meaningful talk of mutual reflection. He provides me with information from four years down the line and I remind him that I’m listening by offering whatever small insights are on my mind.
I thought he was great then and I still do now. No matter the distance the bond between two brothers is strong and unwavering.
Basically what I am saying is I look forward to the next time we’re able to watch a little TV, crack a couple jokes, and just hang out—without any pressure—even if it means the carpet or floor, that’ll be enough.
Taking a moment
to examine your palm
is a holy moment.
And those lines, well
they’re the most honest
you’ll ever read.
I can sit and sulk
all day, yet I
get up, go out
and carry on
the best I can.
It’s an early morning wake up(wake up)
Adjust your hair put on your makeup(makeup)
It’s just a temporary state but(state but)
Either way you’ve got to make up(make up)
For all the time that you pissed away
For every second mistake you made
For every little indiscretion
For all the time you failed to mention
I love you so much my stomach burns
I love you so much that I’m lost for words
I love you so much see my eyes are pure
So stick around and we can make this work
You formed this feeling in Long Island(I land)
On my back and watch the world spin(world spin)
Back and forth in all direction(directions)
They only form a brief connection(except when)
The one’s you love turn from gold to grey
Tell Johnny Frost said nothing gold can stay
I do my best to find another way
The way I work is slow but baby hey
I love you so much I get dizzy spells
I love you so much you’re my wishing well
I love you so much now I’m overwhelmed
I love you so much you’re my homeward bound
Your eyes are healing now I’m lost for words
So stick around let’s watch the season’s turn
I’m slow with change but baby I’ve got faith
This fire burns you are my great escape
The man you met knows there’s a better way
The man in me knows something gold can stay
The grass is green getting longer
in the summer
there’s a barbecue and I’ve
got this rice paper journal
like the sun over Nepal.
Now there’s these two little blue birds
singing softly, shadow dancers
on the lawn
I’ve got this quaint little feeling
there’s a reason
for the bull skull on the wall.
A plane flies overhead
a sky of blue, a sea of red
mountaintops and forest bed
The grass is covered with snowfall
frosted snow caps on the lawn
yet still those two little blue birds
they sing their joyful song.
I lace my boots fill my canteen
need some relief
from the city full of drums
rucksack and trail unwinding
of my love for everyone.
The rocks and sandstone bend
leaves fall from tree, I comprehend
there is no time still consequence
I will remain.
My guitar as of late
has been bringing me
all types of sadness
but it’s a happy sadness
it’s a healing sadness
it’s an honest sadness
I’ve fought so long to forget
that it’s funny how
with no one listening
except the walls and this
box of cous-cous
I haven’t yet opened
but sort of sing to
as it’s eye level on the shelf
where I put my phone to record
I am able to free myself
one melody at a time
turning sadness into song
and song into myself