Post by pinstrike on Sept 23, 2007 12:47:00 GMT -5
I consider myself primarily a poet and a lyricist. So, here's the first poem I decided to post here.
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Blown-Glass vs. The World
I had a blown-glass butterfly—
Gave it to the girl I loved
It was crafted in the furnace
Of the house where I grew up
Where mommy and daddy and baby make war
Like none of it’s ever been said before
Till the walls give up on keeping score
And the toilets stink of blood
Its wings were made of all the times
The mirrors were replaced
Its body, speedometer needles
For every time we ran away
To where all of the thoughts in your bones collapse
And you pretend you don’t know what happens next
And what you pretend to lose was never there to begin with
Just like the tenderness you crave
I saw the man who made it on
The day that I turned six
In the basement near the corner
Where the daylight plays its tricks
He said “son love is made of butterflies
You can touch it once and it will never fly
Again
And it will die by even the most gentle, loving
Hand”
So he handed me the ornament
And I went away to weep
The light shot through the imperfections
And found its way into my sleep
And I woke up to the hour hand
Screaming at me “now you’re a man
So act like one, take all you can
And give it all to me.”
Well I stood up from the gurney
Just to know I might exist
But all the sky was captive in
The ribbon on my wrist
By a thin and tattered paper thread
That filled me with a nameless dread
That maybe all the world had left
Me with nothing else but this
In a fury I had raised the glass
To cast against a wall
That stood against the summer breeze
That had never felt so dull
As when my eyes discovered yours
Like a Jesus draped in briar thorns
To save me from the million more
That pounded in my skull
But really, now, there must have been more
Than what was accounted for
That brought us here to plant the paper stones
Made of all the things you wrote
That never won a single heart
But joined them in falling apart—
That is until today
Which is where I think I’ll stay
At least for as long as you feel the same
And if I keep holding you this way,
Do you think the seas could evaporate,
Leave the world like a crooked spine
Where the gods could spill their wasted wine
Somehow not quite as divine
As the beauty in your gaze
And everything I ever had--
I watched as it was eaten by the trees
that were the walls of my room in which
I kept my soiled sleep
But all I need to know for now
Is that as I am laying down
The sun will take the scenic route
Next to this
Amethyst lullaby
Tracing its path across the sky
And
On a morning when the cement seems
More like the stuff of sins or dreams
Remember that it is.
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Blown-Glass vs. The World
I had a blown-glass butterfly—
Gave it to the girl I loved
It was crafted in the furnace
Of the house where I grew up
Where mommy and daddy and baby make war
Like none of it’s ever been said before
Till the walls give up on keeping score
And the toilets stink of blood
Its wings were made of all the times
The mirrors were replaced
Its body, speedometer needles
For every time we ran away
To where all of the thoughts in your bones collapse
And you pretend you don’t know what happens next
And what you pretend to lose was never there to begin with
Just like the tenderness you crave
I saw the man who made it on
The day that I turned six
In the basement near the corner
Where the daylight plays its tricks
He said “son love is made of butterflies
You can touch it once and it will never fly
Again
And it will die by even the most gentle, loving
Hand”
So he handed me the ornament
And I went away to weep
The light shot through the imperfections
And found its way into my sleep
And I woke up to the hour hand
Screaming at me “now you’re a man
So act like one, take all you can
And give it all to me.”
Well I stood up from the gurney
Just to know I might exist
But all the sky was captive in
The ribbon on my wrist
By a thin and tattered paper thread
That filled me with a nameless dread
That maybe all the world had left
Me with nothing else but this
In a fury I had raised the glass
To cast against a wall
That stood against the summer breeze
That had never felt so dull
As when my eyes discovered yours
Like a Jesus draped in briar thorns
To save me from the million more
That pounded in my skull
But really, now, there must have been more
Than what was accounted for
That brought us here to plant the paper stones
Made of all the things you wrote
That never won a single heart
But joined them in falling apart—
That is until today
Which is where I think I’ll stay
At least for as long as you feel the same
And if I keep holding you this way,
Do you think the seas could evaporate,
Leave the world like a crooked spine
Where the gods could spill their wasted wine
Somehow not quite as divine
As the beauty in your gaze
And everything I ever had--
I watched as it was eaten by the trees
that were the walls of my room in which
I kept my soiled sleep
But all I need to know for now
Is that as I am laying down
The sun will take the scenic route
Next to this
Amethyst lullaby
Tracing its path across the sky
And
On a morning when the cement seems
More like the stuff of sins or dreams
Remember that it is.
