"Tommorow's Another Day"

Sippin' shine
Tryin' to unwind
In the asshole of the world
Some Henry Miller "Capricorn"
Where Sisyphus passed me again
To what I allude
Or try to preclude
Never satisfied them or me
The rocks that we roll
As dreams take their toll
Never taught us how to be free

Yeah, you try to escape
But that never makes
Those windmills you're fighting anymore fake or real
Masturbating your thoughts
And what we've been taught
And those memories that we try to conceal

Cause' I'm sitting here
And don't know what I fear
Is it them or could it really be me?
We sit and we drink
So perhaps we won't think
And be grateful for mortality

Yeah, when your foots got an itch
But there's always a hitch
And really that's all that keeps me here
In some kind of Miller's Quixotian "Capricorn"
But we dare not think or blink a tear
Where it's scorn, thorns and horns
And we die when we're born
But yet, we try to make it ok
Cause I'm sitting here
Whiskey wine and some beer
And tomorrow's a brand new day - they say
Yeah tomorrow's another day.

The summer night is breathing
with its sensual wind
warms to my marrow like your skin
the long days now grow shorter
though the Fall's a while away
watch it set, it radiates

"Round"

Round

I am the dung beetle
Catatonic third eye
See this all
In different dimensions
Cataract seared
By
Staring suns
Seeing stars,
But in my head

None are there
No, none are there

I am the dung beetle
My shit has purpose
See the things through my third eye
Hanuman heart
Beating, beating

Slogging in the shit
Love it
Love it
The earth disciplines
Making strength and strong

Stars and shining,
Shining stars
See them shine
Those shining stars
Third eye sun seared
See the stars
Never reaching
Burn to touch
Shit coated tendrils
Become my touch

Rolling rolling
Rolling along
Third eye rolling
Back
Brain projection, upside down
(Always there, always there)
Washed and rolling
Stream of consciousness rolls
Keep it rolling
Keep it round
Cool the burn of searing sun
Cool is the earth
This earth,
Mine
Seen through supine lens
Dark, dark
The dark is done.

Boy on the Beach

Feels so disconnected, the boy lays dead on the shore
The scene repeats again and again
Becomes too hard to ignore
Family, heartbreak and misery,
Submerged in all the pain
50 short years after the world proclaimed "never again"

[chorus]

The sand so suffocating
We can hardly breathe
World ignores innocent spilled blood
Deaf to mothers who do grieve
How can you breathe?

How soon we displace the memories
Of being refugees
In this land, great and plentiful,
Take for granted that we're free
Where doors stay closed to strangers,
And poverty we ignore
Just so long as our eyes divert
From what washes up on the shore

[chorus]

History's a testament
To many tragedies
Where those in a place to do some good,
Ignore the pained pleas
"Not I" your say, cause you pressed 'like'
On some Facebook epiphany
The sands of time sets salt in wounds
That will open again you see

How can you breathe?
How can you breathe?
How can you breathe?

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A Song


My old blood pressure is peaking
feel like a boot stuck in a bog
perhaps a bit of Bushmills
will clear away this fog
the fears, me, for my future
this road I travel along
I need to get my guitar
and play myself a song

My passions are a'flaming
and I struggle to contain them back
this shite is driving me insane now
but control of my emotions I do lack
the bastards they have got me down
feel like I'm giving them the win
for letting their getting the better of me
for worming their way under my skin

Blinded by self-destruction
hell-bent on my course
foolishly fighting for an ideal
just leaves me pissed off and hoarse
not matter how hard you try to make them pay
you still shoulder the greatest cost
for you can't get to those bleeding gobshites
who really couldn't give a toss

My old blood pressure is peaking
feel like a boot stuck in a bog
it weighs on me and is sucking me down
my vision blurred by tears to a fog
the fears, me, for the future
this road we all travel along
I need to get my guitar
and play myself a song

A Mourning

tears well
like salty swell
distort discerning
before dreams drown
flood of sorrow
leaving tumultuous trail
canal down cheek,
etching darkened tone
wiped away by back hand
sweep
wave reseeds
memory, softens
pebbles becoming sand,
all that we keep.