Spark Followed, New Lyrics Maybe?

I’m affected by the grief of others. Although I’m told this is not so common, I don’t want to believe that. I’m of the opinion we have what it takes to be empathetic and kind to one another, even if we forget sometimes. Hopefully we can move toward a more empathetic world by learning to listen again. How do we do that, I wonder? Listening and patience and ultimately understanding, comes from practice. That initial concern for others? We all have that! Over time, it fades into the background, but it can be more accessible if we reacquaint ourselves with caring. Care for yourself, yes, it is essential you treat yourself well, emotionally. But care for each other as well. Caring for each other scales beautifully. So let’s get started.

Yesterday, I needed to get this off my chest and so I typed away, and the mechanical clucking of the keys tapped a beat enticing enough for me to keep going until a conclusion came. This one worked the moment I started writing. Felt right. Didn’t struggle. It just came together (a rare thing). Hopefully I can make good use of this one and turn it into some lyrics. Be well and happy Thursday.

Humble Thomas (Showboat Waters)

Humble Thomas, sunken back, you march
and all these bruises in your heart
These dialogues, in tongues you can’t interpret
Did you think you would remain so parched?

Humble Thomas, you’re forgiven
Say no more, for we prefer it
Tight lipped, statue draped in valor
You ameliorate the land as droplets
bleed onto the sand

So Humble Thomas, indirectly:
Would you ever go to bat for me?
There’s a line of fire, always burning
And your fans they chose to come so early
Thomas Thomas! Up your smiling!
And I bet your stomach’s surely turning
We can float you down the river
Come one and all, come all the same
Civilians long to end your thirst in full display

Humble Thomas, drink the water
The communion of the martyr
Have your fill inside the theater
We bring deaf applause and bring back carnage

Humble Thomas, give me desert
Let me gobble up your liver
As the leaves, they turn and look away
In the shame of how we choose to play

j

Ruminations of Autumn and Cyan

I wanted to share this on Throwback Thursday but work took me out of town. So here you have a weird #flashbackfriday moment, some words and music made by my friend Ahren and I long ago: When we were in a synth pop long-distance band called For The Benefit. Much love to you all and happy Friday!

j


Sick to my stomach
Sick to mySELF
Sick to my surrounding
Sick to lesser grace

Oh, this daddy long legs on the wall
So watchful, pondering the fall—

Sick to my stomach
As the autumn leaves
Descend in rows
Descend finality

Oh, this daddy long legs on the wall
Flies out the window with the baggage
Into the fall

Out the window, treading by
A suited man
Resembles many things—
Among them, walrus head
A bushy paintbrush under nose
And shaven head
Who knows? Who knows?
Perhaps he’s all alone;
Searches for the proper
Walrus-lady mate.

Oh, this daddy long legs on the wall
Comes close, unlatching ruminating hearts
Into the fall

Out the window, treading by
A redhead woman
Gliding paths surveyed by animals
Cyan still hides in her soul
I heard she was the dog
Who knows? Who knows?
Perhaps she’s all alone;
Searches for the proper
Collar-wielding mate

Oh, this daddy long legs on the wall
Comes close, unlatching ruminating hearts
Into the fall

Sick to my stomach
Sick, the hopeless life-wheel
Sick, the window frost: indecency
Sick, the lifeless Autumn renovator

Oh, this daddy long legs on the wall
Comes close, unlatching condescending farce
Into the fall

Who knows? Who knows?
This may be all the bliss received
Before the fall

Lonely Great (62818)

The great lonely is a place you rarely hear about
It is the emptiness between your heart and ribcage
The stale breath of an aging room
humming about someone else’s grief
just to feel it on its lips
The great lonely is a great plain for sage and horses
with no one round for miles
A place that does not claim you
that doesn’t know your name
or knows enough to mispronounce it
The great lonely is walking barefoot on a cool night
and they’ll never make more shoes.
A splinter borne of old words
and hardened skin
piercing at itself to no end
Voids in thought
and forgetting why you’re mad
The great lonely has a firm grasp
and remembers your name with ease
The great lonely is waking
The great lonely is sleeping
The great lonely is driving
The great lonely is productive
The great lonely is cooking lasagna
The great lonely is filing with dependents
The great lonely is a giraffe too tall for selfies with friends
The great lonely is the greasy spoon, delicious masked in hideous
The great lonely is a combat soldier captured in a traffic jam
The great lonely is a feral cat
supplanting expensive children
The great lonely is a lager wasted on the lips of youth dying to impress
The great lonely is a cloud over the Pacific
The great lonely is a fish tank
The great lonely is a whipping belt
The great lonely is teeth mocking the one with a cavity
The great lonely weep later
The great lonely are the dead at the wake.

j

When I would walk everywhere with a disposable camera, a long time ago.