April 7, 2008

I've got 100 things keeping me from the the one thing I want more than anything. And must i forsake all things in order to find it, i think so. For while this painting inspires me to live and at that live well, i cannot serve it best without first a house to hang in. I've been storing it in a closet for a month now, and just about every day I take it out and stare into its depth, soak in its creativity, and ache to think that i must return it to its closet home to wait. Wait upon me to find a wall, and not just any wall; this painting deserves a fireplace, or better yet a kitchen table, I don't know; but something permanent-something right, something worthy of its color; but at the current time, i just don't have a house. 

Crazy dream

So i dreamt the other night that there was a girl sitting at a bus stop. I knew nothing of her other than the fact that she was 13 years old. Across the street stood a man with evil intent painted into his facial features. I knew something was wrong as he began to walk slowly toward her, yet I stood on the median motionless, incapable of interceding. With every step that the man took closer to the girl however, she became younger and younger, to the extent that by the time the man reached her location she was an infant, which he picked up and cradled in his arms. Then I woke up. 

Will i ever know

When hunger strikes and I've got food

Do i give until i starve?

When millions need their daily bread 

Should I still pay for college? 

How much good is good enough 

and is that even good enough? 

Does giving just enough for me to still have just enough even make sense? 

Of what worth is prayer when the answer all too often sits in my back right pocket? 

Majority swayed

i'm as constant as a streetlight on a timer; showing my colors to the longest line of cars. that is until there are no more waiting; then i change- but throw out a warning first, i never said I was committed. i almost wish you didn't count on me to be green, please don't choose another route. now i'll entertain those from another direction, but only for so long; like i said before: i'm changing. it's who i am. majority swayed. 

Uncle Pete

just a boy eighteen
the second World War called Pete
join the United States Navy

he spent five years out to sea
with a crew of seven hundred and fifty
upon the dark pacific sea

when off the coast of guadal-canal
they didn't have time to sound the bell
Japanese planes came by surprise

their guns bore down under a shield of night
Pete took his station and fired up the sky
only to see the damage done
only to hear the call of run

Pete, Pete come on get out
Pete, Pete we're going down
there's not much time, before this ship is gonna drown

they closed the hatches just to buy some time
while screams of men still echoed from inside
and pierced the deck, where his best friend laid to die

No, no, no, Charlie boy
don't you go, go, go
it's not your time
we're too young to die

Pete, Pete come on get out Pete, Pete we're going down
there's not much time, and it's time to save yourself

talking about it made you cry
but i saw it all welled up in your eyes
survived a wife, two daughters and a son
we laid you in the ground but your story still lives on

(In memory of Peter Kamstra)