Mirror Twin

Gazing in the looking glass
Two faces shall appear.
A mirror twin image of familiar
Thoughts and wants and shames and secrets and characteristics known and hidden.
Proud visage you shimmer first
There upon the surface
Out for all to see
Each line and sun day spot reveals
The laughs and tears that you have weathered.
Familiar slopes and curves define
The façade the world may know or recognize
Yes I see you looking back:
The broader nose than I would like
That claims the greatest real estate,
And brambles of the upper eye who sink into the cave like socket just below their ridge.
The jaw line square and hairline bumpy
Book end markers of my portrait.
But the eyes
They alone serve as the window to the other side
A similar visage beneath the surface
Still there for all to see.
But who is he that gazes at the surface and calls it looking?
Is a mountain no more than the pebbles of its precipice?
It is crust and dirt compacted underneath that gives the mount it’s shape
Yet we are trained to praise the top
Those rocks that claimed the surface.
O lovely rock, O stately rock
Stronger than its base?
I think not, I choose to praise
The rock that’s underneath.
But pulling off the outer rocks
Of the mirror twin image
Will not serve to show the inner rock
We must excavate.
Peeing layer upon layer till we find and proudly show
The one that’s underneath.
Rock or skin that has yet to see day and sun and world recoils
Tis it’s natural inclination.
But stand firm proud rock
You have held up mountains.

The bald eagle

An eagle sat on solemn rock
Proud and sedentary
Piercing eyes of false perception
Clouded with the cataracts of age
What can he see?
Upon his promontory he sits gazing
Casting to the ocean
His back to sky
His back to reason
Facing a sea of nothing.
Expanse. Expanse. Expanse of blue
Endless floor with no horizon.
Behind him is the world he lives in
Man and tree and sky and beast
His sisters who have flown forgotten
Resting in the nests they made.
We are calling for attention
Screaming at the stagnant rock
Squeezed beneath the talons
Of a foolish, balding bird too proud to see.
The crying still behind him
His razored beak again descends
And from the maw a squawk ascends
Cast into the ether of the air ahead
Lost above the nothingness.
O proud bird, how sad you seem
When you have forgotten
That skies were once your kingdom.
What king chooses sea or promontory
When the heavens call?
Shrinking, shrinking, shrinking bird
How soon you are forgotten.
Alas not soon enough.

the Road to Nowhere

I don’t often post my lyrics here.  Lyrics live in time and rely music to carry them, therefore I’m very self conscious of presenting them in written format.  Over the last few days I’ve been working on a stand alone song, it’s structure is very simple and pretty strict and I use an uncharacteristic amount of poeticism.  So I figure what the heck let’s put it out there..

 

Magic spells, and golden castles

fairy tales come true

I could lose myself to time

or lose myself to you.

I don’t know which door to open

Run or choose to stay?

Count the ways that I could break

or give myself away?

Driving down the road to nowhereÂ

how far can you see?

Don’t look back and miss the horizon

I know what love can be.

 

Shooting stars and clouds are calling

echoes from the skies

But I’m lost within the gaze

reflected in your eyes.

I don’t know the soul that’s looking

Moonlight turns to day

Where is he, the one who’s falling

and gave himself away?

Driving down the road to nowhere

Tell me what you see.

If I look I’ll miss the horizon.

I know what love can be.

 

Stormy nights, or lonely mornings

Which one would you choose?

Don’t give up, or don’t give in

but either way you lose.

Purple nights, the world on fire

now the sky is grey.

Careful now, don’t lose that spark

or give yourself away.

Driving down the road to nowhere

how far did you see?

Can you look beyond the horizon

I don’t know love

or all that love can be.

All the Giants Weep

I’m currently working on a long form piece which I hope to be sharing in the future.  Today I managed to get down what I consider to be the prologue, preamble or overture (3 words that mean the same thing). This probably is less clear than I intend it to be, but hopefully it entices you for what I expected to follow.

 

There is a corner of this earth, the same as any other

and this is where the giants live.

The trees all stand as tall or short as any other plot

Nothing grander, larger, wider as one might suppose, for this is how we see that there are giants.

Not a soul beyond each giant occupies the space

Nor another giant by which to measure height.

Every giant comes alone

Each one lives in solitude

And all the giants weep.