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Going through my old blog, a little ditty that I wrote but didn't flag as "free verse." From 4jul06. Saved by digital...

All of the talk over the years
One thing setting up the other
When push comes to shove,
you have to pull the wires and disconnect the old pathways
But does the network change?
Ahh, I hear the sleighbells
Sorry, shuffleplay distraction
Hmm, good song title
Why am I typing this instead of writing that?
Good question
The resistance is strong in this one

The next time the network could shift and make all the difference. But can you take that chance? What's at stake and what price would be paid. Would. Could. Maybe. Maybe not.

I saw the fireworks
I believed I was dreaming
The neighbors came out screaming
Am I a third world man?

You can be called low maintenance,
when in reality you spend untold amounts of energy
keeping the balls in the air
and the plates spinning on those damn sticks.
Sticks. Not shinai. Sticks.
Damn, I hate that.
Of course I've accused myself of far worse.
And I'm a tough judge...no bail for this one.
ROR? You must be kidding.

My friend made the flight and he's on the right path I think.
It's always easier to see someone else's trajectory though.
But that's all part of the royal scam.
To think you know.
To think at all.
Think about it.
Isn't that what got me into this mess in the first place?
Why in the world do I want to now "think about it" to cure it?

Going insane.
No frozen rain to laugh at though.
Only the hot breath of doubt.
Like a blast furnace.
Cooking and curdling.
It stings it's so hot.
Sings it's so hot.
A black harmony to match the goals you can't find.
And a home that is like a bell curve, and the summit has passed a few years back.
And the last generation passed on you a year after that.
And the next generation will likely pass too.
Then you're left with yourself.
And whatever you can carve out of this block of heat.
Burning your hands.
The pain makes you think you are free.
But liberty she pirouette.
Her gown brushes against me, but it is the last soft touch I'll feel.

Maybe the next time will be different.
But we've run the numbers.
Thought about it.
It's what's for dinner.
I thought the Omegaman was long since put to bed.
But I'm coming to learn that some may doze, but they never really leave.
Instead they patiently wait their turn.
Look for an opening.
A crack in the facade.
A gap in the grout.
Or up through the drain.

Open doors will soon be shut.
God opens a window.
That's a small ledge though.
And I'm afraid of heights.

Time, see what's become of me.
I remember the 00-21.
I remember playing America, and visiting the fair.
But it's moving into fall.
I feel the summer.
I dress the summer.
But the reflection doesn't lie.
There's a patch of snow on the ground.
It's a hint.
Pssst! Look kid, you're no kid.

I wish my friends lived out here, but they wouldn't dig this town.
It's a good story at least.
Pretend it's not that way.
My idea of faith?

And so Alice, what say you?
Your timing is impecable.
I'm not fooling you.
I don't know what to do.
But try not to think about it anymore Alice.
It's getting late where you are.

I've shed a few.
And rode a few fences.
It's all so beautiful.
Even though I'm seeing double.
I remember the years.
Well, some of them.
Stabs of memory.
Jabs of pain.
Tabs of smiles.
There must be some kind of way outta here.
Nowhere but through.
Out of the corner of my eye the party exited stage right.
Yes officer, we'll stop now.
Then the phone rang, but I knew the deal before she spoke.
I don't want to drive that grade.
I don't want to see that twisted metal.
I don't want to talk that talk.
I don't want to walk that walk.
OK, I'll play my guitar.
But you can't make me feel it.
You can't make me understand it.
The wildcats can growl.
The riders can aproach.
But I don't have to watch.


This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on January 6, 2009 3:10 PM.

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