Clay Conscious
A black and white future colors the past, I sail around the world but I’m strapped to the mast, Aware that the endless sky and sea lack the river's comfort.
A hero’s funeral and a dead man's life, I think it would all be better if god had a wife, A new meaning for the thunder and relief from the strife that comes from living.
If never has a reason then reason has a way, But the void is the voice of the silent say, But we all know at last and at least there’ll come a day that stays forever.
You get closer to yourself and closer to the rage, You try to live with the freedom that comes with the cage, You try to make your life rhyme like words on a page of a notebook.
Who can be the loneliest ghost, Who can make nothing the most, Forgive all the time we waste, Forget every moon we chased.
And your bones will find their bride, And your deeds will lift with the fog, Your deepest lover finally by your side, And you’ll be god deep in the eternal bog.
Nov. 95
A hero’s funeral and a dead man's life, I think it would all be better if god had a wife, A new meaning for the thunder and relief from the strife that comes from living.
If never has a reason then reason has a way, But the void is the voice of the silent say, But we all know at last and at least there’ll come a day that stays forever.
You get closer to yourself and closer to the rage, You try to live with the freedom that comes with the cage, You try to make your life rhyme like words on a page of a notebook.
Who can be the loneliest ghost, Who can make nothing the most, Forgive all the time we waste, Forget every moon we chased.
And your bones will find their bride, And your deeds will lift with the fog, Your deepest lover finally by your side, And you’ll be god deep in the eternal bog.
Nov. 95
New Color
Torch a shadow with the volume of thought, Find new color in light’s figured fault, Athena bleeding diagrams of cities made of sound.
Touch the nerve net with dreams made of flight, Seek the drug's edge in what is wrong with right, Cure me; kill me; doctor heal me; drink the solid ground.
Search for beauty’s reptile; ancient moment's clock, What base of comfort erupting under rock, Wasted angels in heaven’s ache lightly fall from grace.
Feel for contours of defiance; oscillating birth, Shape pity’s victim from what nothing is worth, Turn the meaning over and fly the mirror’s face.
Every day is its own never, Fortune leaking from a prayer, Every death is its own ever, In desperate silence we repair, Change the lights abundant fever, Shine it thru the deepest turning, Sleepy god; astral receiver, Hell is Eden’s bible burning, Chasing wind; riding weather, Pain of context; suffer dimes, Friday orbit and Monday tether, Mother’s milk and father’s crimes, Artificial language sighing, Interpretation of heartbeat, Skeletal focus; bone yard crying, Escape the sense of traffic heat.
Leaning on deliberate accidents, Color is fool of moody sense.
The Black Knight
He didn’t know he was looking for a victim, He thought he was searching for his fortune, He was a rider of this unconscious power, And there was no passion beyond his white knuckles, And from the moment she dreamed him, And she ran her hands across his armor, She knew the horse he rode was fate, And the measure of his saddle was her dark faith.
His armor caught a desperate ray of sun thru the shadows, Though just a reflection of the knife blade it looked like light, But nothing could color this vision of her feelings, And the sky be it overcast with omens, And his stare be it straight ahead with focus, He appeared as god's warrior of mercy, And if the world could ever conquer such a man, May she be the one to bear his body down.
He thought he was waiting but he was living, Reality was just a masquerade of armor and innocence, He thought he was finding answers but they were questions, And the pale and shallow night called him to duty, Her dowry was just ashes and need, And what he had was not enough to keep him from what he wanted, She never knew underneath his armor he was just human, She thought he was a hero but he was a killer.
Nov. 95
His armor caught a desperate ray of sun thru the shadows, Though just a reflection of the knife blade it looked like light, But nothing could color this vision of her feelings, And the sky be it overcast with omens, And his stare be it straight ahead with focus, He appeared as god's warrior of mercy, And if the world could ever conquer such a man, May she be the one to bear his body down.
He thought he was waiting but he was living, Reality was just a masquerade of armor and innocence, He thought he was finding answers but they were questions, And the pale and shallow night called him to duty, Her dowry was just ashes and need, And what he had was not enough to keep him from what he wanted, She never knew underneath his armor he was just human, She thought he was a hero but he was a killer.
Nov. 95
Living the Life
Well I’ve driven over twenty thousand bridges, But I still don’t know how to build one, And I’ve touched a night sky full of dreams, And I still don’t know how to feel one, And now the beginning is trying to hitchhike to the end, But it's like your closest enemy trying to be your oldest friend, And I feel like the last leaf on the tree in November, But I forgot what I was trying to forget and now I just can’t remember.
As life begins to make more sense; living seems to make less, And I have flown into Heaven's bedroom and watched an angel undress, But sometimes I still feel so empty; like passion’s a dry river bed and I’m a dam, I know who I am I just don’t know where I am.
I was awarded a purple heart, But all my friends died in the war, Well I miss them every now and then but I don’t even visit their graves anymore, Well I know the lyrics to every song that’s ever been sung, But these days find only silence on my tongue, And I still don’t know what I’ll do when I’m finally backed into a corner, Will I come out fighting like a lion or just sit there like little Jack Horner.
As life begins to make more sense; living seems to make less, Where the hell could any of this lead is anybody’s guess, It’s a perfect world full of god’s little sorrows, And today is full of excuses and tomorrows.
I’m not full of self pity, And I’m not full of hate, I just feel so out of place, I’m just feeling my fate.
Well I’ve busted thru a thousand walls, But I still don’t know how to open the door, And I’ve saved myself like a blushing bride, But I still feel like some kind of a whore, And my heart is homicidal and my soul is suicidal, And I really just don’t care no more.
As life begins to make more sense; living seems to make less, And all I’m guilty of is I just will not confess, I love this life but I hate this vain parade, And I’ll tell you what will come from all this belief in a charade.
This.
Nov. 95
As life begins to make more sense; living seems to make less, And I have flown into Heaven's bedroom and watched an angel undress, But sometimes I still feel so empty; like passion’s a dry river bed and I’m a dam, I know who I am I just don’t know where I am.
I was awarded a purple heart, But all my friends died in the war, Well I miss them every now and then but I don’t even visit their graves anymore, Well I know the lyrics to every song that’s ever been sung, But these days find only silence on my tongue, And I still don’t know what I’ll do when I’m finally backed into a corner, Will I come out fighting like a lion or just sit there like little Jack Horner.
As life begins to make more sense; living seems to make less, Where the hell could any of this lead is anybody’s guess, It’s a perfect world full of god’s little sorrows, And today is full of excuses and tomorrows.
I’m not full of self pity, And I’m not full of hate, I just feel so out of place, I’m just feeling my fate.
Well I’ve busted thru a thousand walls, But I still don’t know how to open the door, And I’ve saved myself like a blushing bride, But I still feel like some kind of a whore, And my heart is homicidal and my soul is suicidal, And I really just don’t care no more.
As life begins to make more sense; living seems to make less, And all I’m guilty of is I just will not confess, I love this life but I hate this vain parade, And I’ll tell you what will come from all this belief in a charade.
This.
Nov. 95
Last Night and Forever
When I’m deep inside your gravity I can forget it all, When I’m falling into your paradise I know I’ll never fall, I didn’t know I could love so much it’s like time, I didn’t know I could live with such reason and make it rhyme.
Last night was wonderful, I could die now and not mind much, Because I know, You could raise me from the grave with your touch, You have before.
If forever has any meaning this must be it, And I’ll make it thru shadow's geometry if I just don’t quit, And I learn to take the world like any other grain of sand, And in the peace of your breathing breast I finally understand.
Last night was wonderful, I could die now and not mind much, Because I know, You could raise me from the grave with your touch, You have before.
Kiss me like a thousand stars, Make a miracle of trite, Take the tribute of my tongue and hands, Make a shadow of the night.
Though the morning comes like a hammer; I spend the days, Waiting for the night to come so I can deal your praise, You are the heartbeat of my soul and the goddess of my destiny, I owe you all of my desire because you keep the faith inside of me.
Last night was wonderful, I could die now and not mind much, Because I know, You could raise me from the grave with your touch, You have before.
Nov. 95
Last night was wonderful, I could die now and not mind much, Because I know, You could raise me from the grave with your touch, You have before.
If forever has any meaning this must be it, And I’ll make it thru shadow's geometry if I just don’t quit, And I learn to take the world like any other grain of sand, And in the peace of your breathing breast I finally understand.
Last night was wonderful, I could die now and not mind much, Because I know, You could raise me from the grave with your touch, You have before.
Kiss me like a thousand stars, Make a miracle of trite, Take the tribute of my tongue and hands, Make a shadow of the night.
Though the morning comes like a hammer; I spend the days, Waiting for the night to come so I can deal your praise, You are the heartbeat of my soul and the goddess of my destiny, I owe you all of my desire because you keep the faith inside of me.
Last night was wonderful, I could die now and not mind much, Because I know, You could raise me from the grave with your touch, You have before.
Nov. 95
Six Easy Payments
Well I once had a dream but these days I can hardly even sleep, I once said show me the mountain now the molehill is to steep, And the days go by with their soul stopping boredom, And all those people with a clean conscious; I don’t know how they afford ‘em.
And I feel like a memory, And I walk like a clock, I’m a candle wax destiny, An electric morning motor shock.
Will I spend my whole life wondering why I wasted my life, I used to think it was romantic just to survive the strife, I never; I am; I was and will be, Till death has the nerve to finally bend down and kill me.
A spider web moonbeam, A cosmetic Sunday, A church steeple’s daydream, An Einstein Monday.
How much of not enough can anyone take, It’s all in the pageant of how much reality you can fake, And the rusty sky and the formula of atom's haunted house, Dr. Frankenstein couldn’t turn a better man into a mouse.
A side effects payoff, A catastrophe in drag, A desperate heavens day off, A soul soaked rag - That is used to wipe the small spot of your life up off the floor when you're finally out of steps - so the people who mean something - the people who are fooled into thinking they are going somewhere and you are just one more thing in their way - won't have to look at your little spot and be reminded that they are making a hell of a fucking mess of things.
Nov. 95
And I feel like a memory, And I walk like a clock, I’m a candle wax destiny, An electric morning motor shock.
Will I spend my whole life wondering why I wasted my life, I used to think it was romantic just to survive the strife, I never; I am; I was and will be, Till death has the nerve to finally bend down and kill me.
A spider web moonbeam, A cosmetic Sunday, A church steeple’s daydream, An Einstein Monday.
How much of not enough can anyone take, It’s all in the pageant of how much reality you can fake, And the rusty sky and the formula of atom's haunted house, Dr. Frankenstein couldn’t turn a better man into a mouse.
A side effects payoff, A catastrophe in drag, A desperate heavens day off, A soul soaked rag - That is used to wipe the small spot of your life up off the floor when you're finally out of steps - so the people who mean something - the people who are fooled into thinking they are going somewhere and you are just one more thing in their way - won't have to look at your little spot and be reminded that they are making a hell of a fucking mess of things.
Nov. 95
Average Day in Doomsville
The computer's down again, Amy takes her lunch break early and downs a ‘lude, Like a saint that lives on sin, A slow death by expectations the weatherman’s mood.
It’s a never-ending story, It’s fossil fuel glory, It’s two rights make a wrong, It’s another hit song, It's a tragic comedy.
It’s just an average fucked up day in Doomsville, It don’t make any sense and it never will, A monkey in a suit and tie and a button down, Trying to figure out what it is that turns the world around.
The boss is in a rage, Tommy says to himself; well he can just kiss my ass, Like a bird that built its cage, He swallows his pride and when he gets home just wallows in the grass.
A fish trying to fly, A clown trying to cry, A left turn on red, A living for the dead, It’s a crazy sanity.
It’s just an average fucked up day in Doomsville, It’s just a bunch of godless sheep trying to learn to kill, A monkey in a tie and a button down, Trying to figure out why bother to turn the world around.
The woman on the line is really pissed, Jackie puts her on hold and cusses her down into the deepest hell, She thinks of all that she has missed, And even with the Prozac she never ever really feels quite well.
It’s like borrowing from a thief, It’s like believing in a belief, It’s like wanting to stay in bed, It’s like a dream trapped in your head, It’s a soulless drudgery.
It’s just an average fucked up day in Doomsville, We don’t question the cost we just pay the bill, A monkey in a tie and a button down, He never learned that the world turns itself around.
Nov. 95
It’s a never-ending story, It’s fossil fuel glory, It’s two rights make a wrong, It’s another hit song, It's a tragic comedy.
It’s just an average fucked up day in Doomsville, It don’t make any sense and it never will, A monkey in a suit and tie and a button down, Trying to figure out what it is that turns the world around.
The boss is in a rage, Tommy says to himself; well he can just kiss my ass, Like a bird that built its cage, He swallows his pride and when he gets home just wallows in the grass.
A fish trying to fly, A clown trying to cry, A left turn on red, A living for the dead, It’s a crazy sanity.
It’s just an average fucked up day in Doomsville, It’s just a bunch of godless sheep trying to learn to kill, A monkey in a tie and a button down, Trying to figure out why bother to turn the world around.
The woman on the line is really pissed, Jackie puts her on hold and cusses her down into the deepest hell, She thinks of all that she has missed, And even with the Prozac she never ever really feels quite well.
It’s like borrowing from a thief, It’s like believing in a belief, It’s like wanting to stay in bed, It’s like a dream trapped in your head, It’s a soulless drudgery.
It’s just an average fucked up day in Doomsville, We don’t question the cost we just pay the bill, A monkey in a tie and a button down, He never learned that the world turns itself around.
Nov. 95
Stranger Than a Stranger
Shave head prisoner, Who you are; the I in them, Feeble knowledge and architect's pride, Living the ridicule of rainbow whim, Under glass; particular light, Infinite test tube; one night stand, Look hard at never always, Bloody knuckle; door; key in hand.
Stranger than a stranger, Familiar to the touch, More dangerous than danger, You pretend to mean so much.
Trapped in moody dreaming skull, Leaky faucet babbles in-articulation, The crime; confession; gravedigger's mask, Polite chit chat excommunication, Magician believes; world hat trick, It’s all sundown and sea-breeze doubt, Subtlety of understanding in ghostly molecules, When the dream is in the dreamer’s out.
Stranger than a stranger, Familiar to the touch, More dangerous than danger, You pretend to mean so much.
The weight will pull you down to weightlessness, In the gravity zero plane you will validate your mess, And you will feast upon the image as you and them undress, And you will wonder that much and more can seem so little and less, Love; the apocalypse of definitions, The someone behind the something somewhere, Source of gravity; un-think the thinker, Inevitable motion that always ends up there, Infinite teller; say what you mean, Light pass; context of seer undone, Mystical despair; the hunter's hallow hunt, All of nothing; many of one.
Stranger than a stranger, Familiar to the touch, More dangerous than danger, You pretend to mean so much.
Jan. 96
Stranger than a stranger, Familiar to the touch, More dangerous than danger, You pretend to mean so much.
Trapped in moody dreaming skull, Leaky faucet babbles in-articulation, The crime; confession; gravedigger's mask, Polite chit chat excommunication, Magician believes; world hat trick, It’s all sundown and sea-breeze doubt, Subtlety of understanding in ghostly molecules, When the dream is in the dreamer’s out.
Stranger than a stranger, Familiar to the touch, More dangerous than danger, You pretend to mean so much.
The weight will pull you down to weightlessness, In the gravity zero plane you will validate your mess, And you will feast upon the image as you and them undress, And you will wonder that much and more can seem so little and less, Love; the apocalypse of definitions, The someone behind the something somewhere, Source of gravity; un-think the thinker, Inevitable motion that always ends up there, Infinite teller; say what you mean, Light pass; context of seer undone, Mystical despair; the hunter's hallow hunt, All of nothing; many of one.
Stranger than a stranger, Familiar to the touch, More dangerous than danger, You pretend to mean so much.
Jan. 96
The Moon in Virgo
Thru the journey of the days and the map of the hour, I was born right at the tip of the scales in the balance of this impotent power, I’m always nose to the grindstone; full of some kind of moody perfection, I’m an earth-heart muse-lover connected to some kind of disconnection.
The moon in Virgo, I’m my own worst enemy, Not because I don’t know, But because I can't break free.
Every beast has a nature and every angel has a god's eye view, But until you find your wings; what’s a poor little beast to do, I always feel like I’m waiting for some little miracle to push me all the way into the light, I don’t know what the hell is wrong but I can tell you all 841.9 things that are right.
The moon in Virgo, Rising in the twelfth house, A secret hero, Deft hands in a virgin’s blouse.
I feel like I was born with a purpose but I guess I’ll just die by the clock, If my sleep dreamed any deeper; I could pass right thru solid rock, And I don’t want to be the master but I can no longer play the slave, And I don’t want anything I could name but all I seem to do is crave.
The moon in Virgo, Take me in a lover's rush, Hide in moon-glow, Lose me in the mystic crush.
Jan. 96
The moon in Virgo, I’m my own worst enemy, Not because I don’t know, But because I can't break free.
Every beast has a nature and every angel has a god's eye view, But until you find your wings; what’s a poor little beast to do, I always feel like I’m waiting for some little miracle to push me all the way into the light, I don’t know what the hell is wrong but I can tell you all 841.9 things that are right.
The moon in Virgo, Rising in the twelfth house, A secret hero, Deft hands in a virgin’s blouse.
I feel like I was born with a purpose but I guess I’ll just die by the clock, If my sleep dreamed any deeper; I could pass right thru solid rock, And I don’t want to be the master but I can no longer play the slave, And I don’t want anything I could name but all I seem to do is crave.
The moon in Virgo, Take me in a lover's rush, Hide in moon-glow, Lose me in the mystic crush.
Jan. 96
Sweet Dorthea and the Nature of Evil
Eyes like a circus and tongue like a snake, The birth of a lover that Heaven did forsake, Experience intangible in the shifting mythic light, The subtlety of daybreak and the power of the knife bone night, She was born to please but she is bored with her duty, So she sings a catastrophe and it feels like beauty, And when she moves like a hungry cat you will kill to bring her food, She is the rainbow; she is the swamp; she is the global mood, I saw her once in a crystal ball as a storm over a city, She is the inspiration of every prophecy of pity, But your appetite says much more than her blank desire, But her coolness is much more like a frozen fire, And your tears are just her favorite drink; your sighs the wind in her sails, And in the crucifixion pride; she acts the nails, Watch her walk down a lonely avenue at sunset, The way the darkness swallows her body your match is made and met.
And you begin to want her, And you begin to love her.
It’s just practicing your fall from grace, Chasing mermaids swimming thru light breeding space, She is subtlety and purpose with her Rembrandt face, And your lust is an open wound on which she feeds.
In the light she looks like an angel; in the dark she looks like the light, And desire is a fighter and reason is a fight, And the moon’s the only cure inside the curious night, She will give your angles; thoughts and forms their deeds.
She delivers desperation in the artifice of a sunset, And you will trust her shadow and plead heresy to regret, She’ll make you feel like a master when your really just a pet, There’s a different world in each eye and you look deep.
She is the honesty of a black rainbow, And you touch the rain and you live the rain and you're sick to know, So you hoard the treasure of the thunder’s woe, Until you have nothing to give and only temptation to keep.
With earth hurt curves and autumn motion, A desktop mind and a blood letting ocean, Tapestry of silence; lips on the bullet, In a god sick fever in creation’s pulpit, Asphalt fury; sex bed shame, Overtones and whispers and tongue dust fame, Nervous art chaos; clock paced thrill, Carnival persona undressed to kill.
And you begin to need her, And you think she needs you.
Jan. 96
And you begin to want her, And you begin to love her.
It’s just practicing your fall from grace, Chasing mermaids swimming thru light breeding space, She is subtlety and purpose with her Rembrandt face, And your lust is an open wound on which she feeds.
In the light she looks like an angel; in the dark she looks like the light, And desire is a fighter and reason is a fight, And the moon’s the only cure inside the curious night, She will give your angles; thoughts and forms their deeds.
She delivers desperation in the artifice of a sunset, And you will trust her shadow and plead heresy to regret, She’ll make you feel like a master when your really just a pet, There’s a different world in each eye and you look deep.
She is the honesty of a black rainbow, And you touch the rain and you live the rain and you're sick to know, So you hoard the treasure of the thunder’s woe, Until you have nothing to give and only temptation to keep.
With earth hurt curves and autumn motion, A desktop mind and a blood letting ocean, Tapestry of silence; lips on the bullet, In a god sick fever in creation’s pulpit, Asphalt fury; sex bed shame, Overtones and whispers and tongue dust fame, Nervous art chaos; clock paced thrill, Carnival persona undressed to kill.
And you begin to need her, And you think she needs you.
Jan. 96
Darkness Follows
I could choke to death trying to breathe in this room full of sighs, All that’s being born is everything that dies, And life is just a series of events to which you are slaved, And all that’s left of yourself is what your insanity has saved.
I can see it all so clear, In the peaceful light that swallows, But everywhere leads back here, The craving darkness follows.
Ambition is like a fourteen year old with a hard-on, And meaning; the king of deceit and you play its mood-pawn, And with a mind like a cemetery you still lust for the kingdom, With a certain zero numbness you still want to become.
It’s in the friction of the shadow, In the light which it swallows, In the knowledge of what you can't know, The arrogant darkness follows.
In the museum of my consciousness there is a special place, An empty shrine for an empty god without a face, And resolution hangs in the balance of a moody globe, And there’s never time for revelation; for just trying to cope.
Not lost but finding, Everything the darkness swallows, Aposiopetic motion unbinding, The relentless darkness follows.
Jan. 96
I can see it all so clear, In the peaceful light that swallows, But everywhere leads back here, The craving darkness follows.
Ambition is like a fourteen year old with a hard-on, And meaning; the king of deceit and you play its mood-pawn, And with a mind like a cemetery you still lust for the kingdom, With a certain zero numbness you still want to become.
It’s in the friction of the shadow, In the light which it swallows, In the knowledge of what you can't know, The arrogant darkness follows.
In the museum of my consciousness there is a special place, An empty shrine for an empty god without a face, And resolution hangs in the balance of a moody globe, And there’s never time for revelation; for just trying to cope.
Not lost but finding, Everything the darkness swallows, Aposiopetic motion unbinding, The relentless darkness follows.
Jan. 96
Job (the eternal dialog)
Your life has been abandoned and un-lived, And I alone have escaped to tell you.
I have waited for the light, Yet days of affliction confront me, I feel locked inside this night, And I only ask to be free, I do all I can, In the small world of a man.
I call upon a prayer, Yet wisdom remains unspoken, And I have stood there and I have seen, Where the teeth of the young lions are broken, Why did I not die at birth, What are these rebuilt ruins worth.
I question all faith and life itself, And the heavens radiate indifference, I endure plagues and suffering, Instructed with expert nonsense, A simple life eclipsed by the sublime, Are we guilty of some cosmic crime.
Please deliver me from the meaningless meaning, A day full of wanting and a night full of dreaming, Don’t leave me to wander thru wonder-less worlds, Only finding fools gold and lusterless pearls, And if fate is the warden of desire, Then it’s just trying to trick the truth out of a liar, All I want is to really learn how to be, Oh god why has thou forsaken me.
Jan. 96
