New Year

 New Year is same as the old one: fight the same battles; face the same challenges. The arbitrary demarcation of increments of time is so unnecessary; a random fancy of accidental sentience.

Good times are so fleeting. For this reason alone, I know I will never give in to despair. It would be such of a waste of potential. If resolutions mattered, that would be mine.




meet me on the mezzanine
with some peppermint gum and old magazines
i’ll bring the guns, you bring the green
and the money in unmarked bills

it’s now high noon, and I’m standing alone
i called you but nobody picked up the phone
so i assumed you were not coming home
or perhaps you were already killed

i’m sorry i wasn’t a better son
i didn’t care about anyone
i wanted to be revered for what i done
i wanted to be free

by the time you read this, i will be gone
i thought i could win, boy was i wrong
i thought i could atone
for the mistakes that i made
but i couldn’t turn away
no i couldn’t turn away

 i contemplated the mistakes I had made
from day one up to the present day
but they all seem to blur, they all seem to fade
into the shadows of the sun’s serenade
  
so i’ll quietly pretend this ain’t a vendetta
as i load up my U22 Beretta
but the truth to the letter
is i’ve been taught no better
i am the son that you made
 
i’m sorry i wasn’t a better son
i didn’t care about anyone
i wanted to be revered for what i done
i wanted to be free
 
by the time you read this, i will be gone
i thought i could win, boy was i wrong
i thought i could atone
for the mistakes that i made
but i couldn’t turn away
no i couldn’t turn away

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Mosquito Bites

 Mosquito bites last. the sting is brief. the itch is persistent but temporary. the scars last. sometimes longer than the memories. I have wonderful, blurry memories of a dark summer night, millions of stars, dancing in a kilt, not even realizing that I was being eaten alive.




out in the fields with no shoes on
flailing through the dark, we're perfectly gone

lights out, lights on, lights in the sky
watching you trade your vows made me cry

like crazy we danced all night long
in front of the barn to disco songs
the mosquitoes chewed my legs apart
the scars still pock me like abstract art

i wished i was the groom
i'd get my wish oh so soon

bites bites bites, i've got mosquito bites
sites sites sites, i've got you in my sites

out in the fields in a bright red kilt
dancing, spinning, going at full tilt

tricky moves, tricky grooves, i can almost fly
but i know when you leave it'll make me cry

like crazy we laughed 'til the break of dawn
wet in the grass on the farmhouse lawn
the mosquito bites driving me mad
but preoccupying me so i wasn't sad

i wished i was the bride
when i saw the love in her eyes

bites bites bites, i've got mosquito bites
sites sites sites, i've got you in my sites

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late breaking news

late, late, for a very important date. this news is late, but it's still great; it's the late breaking news. it's so fantastic that you won't want to miss it. you will be on your toes, you will be in pins and needles, and you will be gripping your armrests tight. we're going to up the ante tonight.

we have a very special presentation tonight. it's based on a *hush, hush* true story! we are not making this up. all the events recreated especially for the broadcast of this program actually happened, and we are bringing to you exclusively, tonight only folks.

you are about to be given a rare opportunity to glimpse into the mind of a mad man. what you will see and hear with shock you; it may even scare or horrify you. if you get upset easily, you may want to turn away now. the drama is about to unfold.

the scene fades in, slowly opening on a quiet, suburban street in the middle of summer. it is the evening time, families are finishing their dinners, children can be heard laughing and playing, and parents are tuning into the late breaking news...




this just in:
twenty more dead
from the suicide bomb
inside of your head
the sensational story
the moment you dread
when the truth is not muzzled
for the masses, spoon-fed

and Hollywood turns
the late-breaking news
into academy-winners
with four-star reviews
and we can just turn off
the pain if we choose
and nobody calls us
the killers

she tries to sleep
with shrapnel in her bed
and the barrel of a rifle
pointed at her kid
you and I are prisoners
of a much lesser pain
we just watch it on TV
a world away

and Hollywood turns
the late-breaking news
into academy-winners
with four-star reviews
and we can just turn off
the pain if we choose
and nobody calls us
the killers

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Ken Kesey is dead

Ken Kesey is dead and we taught him a lesson. we taught him good. there is no love. there is no hope. there is no room for thinking outside the box. the time of pioneering has come and gone. we are a settled beast, best left unstirred.

stirred, we will bite the hand that feeds.

stirred, we will rise up and revolt.

stirred, we will destroy the only things that keep us sustained. this is the nature of the beast. visionaries may resist; but in the end, they too succumb just as readily as the pleasantly ignorant.

the lesson never really gets learned, and we anguish over it. we do ourselves a disservice by not realizing that perhaps some lessons are best left forgotten, so that the hardship can be truly experienced anew.



oh, no one flew over
we all stayed on the ground
looking for cover
and keeping our heads down

the apoplectic vision
is somewhere in the dirt
and pushing and fighting
is this how we flirt?

Aw, Ken Kesey is dead
and so is MKULTRA
but we all love conspiracies
we dread it's so tawdry

it's so paltry
so sultry
it's so country
it's so haute couture

we all rode the magic bus
in our dreams
i had dreams about your lust
they were obscene

oh, no one flew over
'cause we all lay on the ground
totally high
from the chest on down

the beat generation
we beat them dead
the peaceful nation
it was all in their head

some converted
and some of them fled
the rest resigned to hiding
from the love they dread

oh, no one flew over
we all stayed on the stone
protectively killing over
land to call our own

the prodigal visit
from the you you knew before
hasn't existed
since you shot him to the floor

Ken Kesey is dead
and we taught him a lesson
no one better dare hope
to escape the prison's depression

repression, the risen
have driven the dirge
we're all taking it back up stream
back to the first urge

you better move aside
if you don't want a ride
it's not that we hate you
but we'll leave you behind

no one's gonna stand
in the way of this journey
but give us a hand
we're not in a hurry

i haven't felt this good
since twenty
I’ve got privilege
and I’ve got plenty

Ken Kesey is dead
but the urge remains
to relax instead
and let go of the reigns

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John Darnielle on a desert island

John Darnielle on a desert island, in a tropical storm, crouching on the sand, clutching his broken glasses, waxing poetic about the demons that are coming for you soon; this is the wonderful world of my imagination.

i wish sometimes that i personally knew all my heroes. so i could tell them what i think of them, and why.

the intensity with which i love you is so complete, it sometimes occludes itself. i forget it is even there, because it is all that is there. it is the universe, too big to see. but i never take it for granted. i will love you so hard. i will keep doing this, for you.



down the alleyway
there's a secret door
that leads to another world
where none of us are poor

a precipice
a giant dragoon
within the blackest night,
Lovecraftian sails unfurled

i hold my hand
close to my chest
and think of my childhood
yeah, it was worst and it was the best

but i would leave this place
i would board that boat
if only you would
if you would hold me afloat

but i am lost without you
out at sea
with a blurry photograph of your back
and a hand-cranked am radio playing Lionel Ritchie

down the alleyway
there's a way out of here
sometimes the lineup is long
sometimes it's clear

but i can bribe the bouncer
baby i've got the cure for your cancer
i want to keep you strong
i want to keep you near

oh please hold my hand
and tell me yes,
you'll sail the seven seas with me
and come to my mountain nest

i would leave this place
i would board that boat
if only you would accompany me
oh baby you're the best

but i am lost without you
out at sea
with a blurry photograph of your back
and a hand-cranked am radio playing Lionel Ritchie

i am lost without you
an out-of-focus lens,
taking blurry photographs
so we can pretend...

yeah, let's go back
to the desert island
let's go back...

but i am lost without you
out at sea
with a blurry photograph of your back
and a hand-cranked am radio playing Lionel Ritchie

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i left something for you

i left something for you, back there, all those years ago. without even really thinking about. call it an unintentional, anachronistic gift. i didn't know you, but i knew it was for you.

i cut it out of myself. it did not hurt, and i do not miss it; i know that it belongs with you. if you find it where i left it all those years ago, i hope you recognize it for what it is; i hope you want it, even need it. i imagine you cherishing it. that makes me feel good.

i left something for you, and it is eternal. it will not wither and die. you cannot destroy it. it will never cease to exist, even when i cease to exist. that is the beauty of it; that is the beauty of you.



when we were still
still on the move
young kids in love
with nothing to lose

in the woods
you said you would
behind his back
behind your father's farm

sitting still
it still stings
below the canopy
waiting in the wings

that's when you spilled
your guts to me
no use crying
over precious things

let's go out west
off the edge of the earth
where the cowboys roam
always searching

let's go somewhere underground
below the [ ] where we will never be found
let's get lost off the beaten path
and enjoy our youth; listen to your laugh

i need to grieve
to know the truth
i want to leave
something behind for you

when we were still
still on the move
young kids in love
with nothing to lose

in the woods
you said you would
behind his back
behind your father's farm

sitting still
it still stings
below the canopy
waiting in the wings

that's when you spilled
your guts to me
no use crying
over precious things

i need to grieve
to know the truth
i want to leave
something behind for you

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horizontals

horizontals, lined up row upon row, end to end, endlessly. we are but buried bodies, graves, and tombstones waiting to happen. we lie down, together or apart. we close our eyes. we sleep, and then wake again. until one day we don't. one day we close our eyes and never open them, ever again.

sometimes it's not so bad, to lie down, unmoving, staring up, and feeling the whole world move around... knowing that one day all feeling will be gone; savouring that it is still here, now.

when i lie down, i think of you, and i can be at peace with it all.



you become horizontal
when you lie on the floor
or anytime you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score

i loved you a million letters,
A to Z
and love you a whole new language, now that you're dead

i loved you in fields
and on the way to the sea
each fleeting momentarily, out of my head

lie with me here
between the blades of grass
and the dirt, and water cascades like...

among the failing
fall of man
hold me now, i'm so afraid to pass

you become horizontal
when you cease to be
and they spread your ashes across the sea

and you biodegrade
and get eaten by fish
and you can't feel a thing and you no longer dream

believe me a million
times and more
i'll love you when you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score.

You become horizontal
when you lie in your bed
the bed that you made to lay your head

and that means sleep
or maybe death
but at least you won't be worrying once you're dead

the distance between
you and i
can be measured from this point to the sky

it's not really consistently
the same each time
'cause it's all relative to the beholder's eye

lie with me now
under the canopy
or take my hand and come dance with me

we're falling
from the grace of gods
and it's not something we even believe

you become horizontal
when you leave the earth
when you break the gravity of your birth

and you bring out your dead
you read their last rites
but you can't quench their last thirst

believe me a million
times and more
i'll love you when you're not standing no more

and if that means sleep
or the little death
then you probably won't be worrying about what's the score.

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flashback

flashback to a time when you were still young, and the world was your oyster. things were so much more fun when we were young. we did not worry about tomorrow; we lived for the moment, and the moment was grand!

now they are all just memories... blurs in my brain. it's almost as though it never really happened; it's too distant to believe that it was ever real. that's why it's important to be childish sometimes. otherwise we forget who we really are.

i want to keep being a kid forever.



the snow woulda been up to our kneecaps
when we were seven our eight
back then we woulda loved everything
even the things we hate

i'm ashamed, ashamed to know me
don't like the person i was
it took me meeting you to show me
that i can feel trust

arm yourself with fairytales
arm yourself with myth
bundle up in your warmest clothes
don your hats and mitts

flashback to speeding snow lanes
nestled in the hills
treacherous and wonderous
show your sledding skills

Creature comforts keep you trendy
wrap yourself in cool
creature comforts made us vain
life can be so cruel

arm yourself with fairytales
arm yourself with myth
armistice will always fail
peace is just a trick

flashback to an awesome childhood
flashback to a better time
nostalgia can see right through me
back to the river line

arm yourself with fairytales
arm yourself with myth
flashback to a bitter battle
don your hats and mitts

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