The wind whipped at my coat as it blew across the lot,
Turning the corners up as if it were searching for a lost object,
Or an idea, that it had misplaced.
It blew, and I was reminded of the time we took a midnight stroll along the water's edge
Our bare feet leaving temporary footprints in the wet sand,
And the ocean, like an over-attentive maid, washed them away after only a few seconds.
I'm quite sure we talked about many things as we moved along,
Staring alternately at the giant resorts on one side,
The ocean on the other, which made the buildings seem insignificant,
And each other.
Mostly each other.
I'm sure we talked about many things,
But I only remember how striking you looked that night,
And the way your hand felt on my arm as you leaned in closer.
Sometimes, when the preacher talks about heaven I'm reminded of those days
And I think "That must be what it's going to be like."
I remember when you started laughing and attacked my legs with icy ocean water,
So I chased you down and when I caught you we tumbled over,
And both got soaked, as the waves made their foray onto the shore again.
As we laid there in each others' arms,
Time stopped,
And though I can't remember
(An unfortunate side effect of stopping time)
I'm sure we experienced a lifetime together,
In that one moment.

I remember a lot of things that never happened,
But that one is my favorite

ugh

I'm sitting here, forcing myself to write
But the truth I don't have anything to say
At least nothing that I haven't said before
I wanted to write about love
To set that record straight
Because no one else has ever tried to do that before
Then I wanted to write about loss
But I've written enough about that to be considered an expert in the field
So tonight, you get the speechless poet
The man who ran out of words, but kept on speaking
But sometimes it's those times
When you don't have anything to say
That everything comes out
So I'll just keep my fingers on the keys
Because at any moment inspiration will strike
Like lightning, straight to my brain
Or I could rip off lines from old movies
And get the quotes wrong.
But whatever it is that I do tonight
Tomorrow always brings with it the possibility of trying again
And with that thought in mind I close
Because really, who wants to keep reading this?

More Sonnet

If you had played a song for me as well
I know you could have won my heart for sure
But such a prize, as far as I can tell
Was more alike to sickness than the cure
So let me say instead, it's sad to see
A beautiful young singer have to go
I know you won't be thinking now of me
I wouldn't have expected you to know
My nerves can get the best of me at times
And so we barely spoke while you were here
And if you ever get to see these rhymes
I hope my motive isn't too unclear
It's just that, from the sides of you I've seen
You're beautiful, and that's all that I mean

Sometimes, when I think about the word creative
I get a different idea in my head
Is it really "creative" to put words together for just my amusement?
Is it really "creative" to write songs that only reflect on my past?
Well, yes, it is,
But that's not the only definition
And if that's all the creativity that I have then I might as well just go home
I'd like to think I can do better though
That somehow my words could affect someone
Make someone smile
Or rethink their decisions
Perhaps I could creatively solve a problem you've been having
Or maybe tell you a story about how I got over that same problem in my own past
Maybe being creative should be about more than satisfying my need to make something
Even though at the heart of it that's what the word really means
To create something
But is it worth creating if your creation doesn't matter?
So what does matter?
What changes the world?
Do I need to convince you of something?
Maybe open your eyes to a new way of thinking, that perhaps you didn't realize existed?
Those are all good options
But my real goal is just to entertain you
Maybe that's not "creative" enough to change the world
Or maybe
Just maybe
It is.

It's Been So Long

Woke up this morning with an old song in my head. It still reminds me of you. I must have been dreaming about the good times that we had, when we were both in love with you, and it's been so long since I could forget about you, yeah.

Feet touch the floor and I'm not even out the door before I shake off that feeling of regret. It doesn't take long before I find another song, and I think nothing that you could do would get to me, but it's been so long since I could forget about you, and we both agree that I'm better off without you, so why can't I get you out of my head.

Back to the grind, and I've got nothing on my mind except the ticking as the time keeps rolling on, when I hear a familiar key, I say that it won't get to me, but the radio is playing that old song. It's like a sign and now I've got you on my mind again. I haven't had this kind of feeling since God knows when, 'cause it's been so long since I could forget about you. Why can't I get you out of my head?

I think that I have discovered a place where dreams really do come true. I think I have discovered another where they only take control of you, when it's not like you believed, and I'd give anything to leave, 'cause it's been so long since I could forget about you.

Tell me now, before I go, that this is what you want, because the moment I step out that door, you know that nothing in this world will make me turn around or make my feet forget to move. I've heard it all before, but go ahead with your last chance to prove to me that this is better for us, being separate and alone. I find it hard now to believe you, maybe harder once I've gone, so now's your chance. Speak up! Enlighten me on what you know of love. You said you're doing this for both of us. I guess I just don't see the bigger picture then, if this is really helping me get by, because we got by well enough together. What's the reason behind all the reasons you've been sifting through to find the perfect one to give to me so I won't be upset, well guess what: It didn't work. I'm walking out now that I've said my piece. Your silence all the confirmation I could ever need. I think that you'll regret this one day after I'm long gone, but what do I know?

1 part hyperbole, 2 parts truth

My face tear-stained, emotionless, my voice a crystal rasp, and sometimes what it is I want is not the same as what is in my grasp, so I keep saying to myself that I don't care for her at all, but all the while I'm still sitting here, just inches from the fall, and talking myself down with sensible yet so transparent lies, back from the risk of tumbling down again. I've had too many tries at love for one more wasted effort on an obvious mistake, but if you've been there then you know that it just isn't quite so easy to convince yourself of something which your self is well aware could lead to just another heartache, if you think that on the way there might be happiness in store for you, a taste you can't forget, but which you haven't had a drop of since you can't remember when it was she last gave you a smile that you knew meant she was yours, and then the one you gave returned the sentiment. I just can't help myself. Sometimes I wish convincing me was easy. Oh, but then I'd never let myself do anything I wasn't sure of when I started out, and all the best of all the journeys I've been on have been so littered with uncertainty, inspiring words and songs and all the best of me comes out when I'm not sure of where to go. Will this step make the sun shine brighter, or will this one bring the snow? It doesn't matter at the time. I simply follow where my feet would like to go. But this time I've a clear emphatic no. But have I ever listened to myself before?

Sonnets Are Fun

In looking at the time that we had shared,
There isn't much validity to find
About my basis for how much I cared,
Or how it felt to then get left behind.
The timing wasn't perfect for us then,
And once we even tried to make it real,
But that's what scared you off I guess, since ten
Days after that was nothing left to feel.
I should have seen it coming from the start,
And hey, you were the best I ever had,
But when the time did come for us to part,
I did get quite unreasonably mad.
For though it was as simple as a fling,
I haven't since found any better thing.

Another night I spend with naught to do
But sit alone and dream a dream of you
I made a list for all the world to see
But hid it from the closest ones to me
I don't want them to see my perfect one
Or maybe just a fantasy undone
But either way my public private list
Is all I've got, and so it's all I get
It's been too long since last I felt the tug
As one heart needs another like a drug
But pharmaceuticals are not my thing
My proof is in a box that holds a ring
A ring that once adorned my lover's hand
Accompanied by yet another band
The third was mine, but that's to say all three
Are now the property of only me
They sit inside their cardboard home all day
And though I try from half a world away
To vanquish all the thoughts they used to bring
I always end up focused on that ring
And that's why love is such an awful thing.

The Apology

"Give me one reason," you said as you stood in the doorway,
arms folded as if they might break from your control at any moment.
At once a million thoughts rushed through my head,
But no words accompanied them to compose the apologetic symphony
With which I could still the fear apparent in both of our eyes, which screamed
"It's over!"
without either of us saying a word.
I tried desperately to conjure the magic words that would steer the fire
From anger to longing,
Hate to desire.
I knew there had to be something that would cause this to end well for us.
As I drew a breath and prepared to speak, I knew that this would do it.
I knew you would come back, and we could go back to how we were
Before,
Like we always do.
Three simple words would make it all better,
For now.
I opened my mouth, but the look on your face grew so hot
I swear it burned my tongue.
As I sat alone in confusion, replaying it all in my mind,
I realized my mistake.
The apology had disappeared when my mouth opened.
Three words caused you to storm out instead.
"I wasn't wrong."

Oops.

To My Crate CA-60 (a bit of silliness)

Sounds
Locked in a crate
A crate that I've found
Isn't it great that this crate does abound
With sound
All around me

All at once
It's as if there was nothing before
Only grunts
Where the music now fills up the floor
Can't ignore it
Watch me soar with grace and ease

Lightning strikes
And the thunder still deafens my ears
I shout "Yikes!"
But the laughter persists through the tears
All my fears slip away
When I hear her voice
Never clearer
And now I am left with no choice
But to draw e'er nearer
The beautiful singing
But now there is a ringing

(oops I got to close
My feedback sounded gross)

Flip the switch
And silence the angel for now
Curse the witch
Who decided that sleep was more important than me and my guitar.

I've heard it said that poets who use rhyme
And meter limit creativity
But I have tested for myself with time
And found there is no such proclivity

In fact, from the experience I've had
It takes a more imaginative mind
To put what's in your head to pen and pad
While keeping to the structure you've defined

But sometimes you just have to go off book and write what you feel.

Complicated matters don't seem to matter much to you
As long as you're the one we're looking at, it's all the same
But no one here compares, so where's the challenge?
Even you should understand that only fools would suffer you to stay
And what a fool I am. I sometimes wish I were another
But a braver type of man could never hope to turn your disregard
Into a watchful gaze, where all the lights and sounds would disappear
And you and I would stare, my dear, until nothing else was left but you and me,
And then you couldn't help except to see me standing there,
Hopeful yet apprehensive, awaiting your next move in this game
Where even if you win, you keep on playing until you lose again.