LOL

Dare I say that the anger burns?
Beneath the skin, like molten magma
Making a mountain out of mere words
That are but devices that dare not be
Taken much too literally
But sometimes waves become a storm.

You and I are just two officious kids
Who’ve read too much yet learned too little
To know that the matter of which we speak
Is a subject to think of and not bury
In brazen discourse of big, big words
Yet now we’re in this position

My fist on your February frozen lips
And a smile as I feel satisfied
And then you kick me right in the balls
And no more words as we tumble by

Honestly

Do you think I numb myself with Television Shows
So I can run away from responsibility?
Like everyone else who surrounds me
In the vast snow land of Saginaw
In the immortal cold of the young adult soul?

Maybe I feel like I’m losing the child in me
Unlike Picasso, and my Guernica 
Is a blank page, only grey 
And the mother crying is an empty stroke
Of calligraphy that speaks to no one
And is endless, the empty stroke goes on and on
And just like ink
Dipped into a bottle it grows and grows
Till it covers the water
In bruise pristine 
And the smell is the only thing that tells you 
That it’s been tampered with, 
Or you wouldn’t even know

Libraries I could go to but never do
I watch Rick and Morty in the pale sun light
And feel smart when I recognize the basest science
And feel dumb when I see how intelligent 
The fictional characters all seem to be
In the books I’ve read, all the movies
And my roommate once told me that we are doomed
For we looked up to suicidal mavericks
In books and movies and rock and roll
All suicidal, doomed mavericks
And in the eternal wasteland of the teenage soul
That thinks too much for its own good
And thinks too little for its own good
I am doomed only to realize thirty years hence
How much like an asshole I sound now.

Necrophilia

And when you whisper in my ear
All I can do is tremble shut
And try to think of some way or form 
To move and move away from you
So that I won't have to endure
Another bout with your machine
That always seems to need me more
And more till I can barely sleep
But sleep is something I have much
Of and even when I wake
I still sleep the pyramid song
But Charon can never dare touch me
For I am something never born
So never can I lie in peace

Oh God Not Again

I have a talent for intangible things
My lady, and I can make you fly
Through the stratus and make you ring
The bell that makes the angels cry

And all I want in return
Is just the slightest company
That you can afford to give me
For with every word I write I burn

Yet you never say that you need me
And even these words you never read
Though its my fault, I never give them to you
For who wants to hear one whine
In bastard, baleful poetry

Bedlam Ballads Bedlam Blues

Ballad #1

Well now they've let me out my cage
I'll try to go where I can't rage,
Somewhere soulful to rest my bones
Where I can be, at last, alone.

Bedlam, you might have healed my sores,
And brought the demons out my pores,
But I don't think I will miss you,
Won't spare no kerchief or tissue.

Farewell asylum, farewell past,
The stone's been thrown, the die's been cast,
Now in my head there's no murmur,
I look forward to the future.


Blues #1

Well the doctors said there was something wrong
In my head
The voices, the voices, were all wrong
In my head

And I tried to run and I tried to hide
They stripped me of my life and pride
They took away about everything
They didn't even let me sing
Because they said there was something wrong
In my head.


Ballad #2

There ought to be something that's said
About the beauty of the clouds,
Floating lofty above my head,
Without a single shriek or sound.

I want to write a pome for them,
Or maybe sing a lofty song,
If only to be near the helm
On which they rule, swinging along.

How should I start? Oh lofty clouds!
Oh wait, I've said that already.
Start again- they swing without sound.
No, no, that's been said already.


Blues #2

Well its dark in here I cannot see
I count my misery
They took my papers, my guitar
Now I cannot breathe.

But there's a small sliver of light
A crack in the wall, it shines so bright,
I look outside from time to time,
The sun so golden, clouds so high,
Like letters God sewed in the sky,
Meaning different to you and me,
Reflecting what we want to see.
And then the birds singing their songs,
I wish they'd sing mine too.
A tra, a la, sha la la la,
Take me away with you.


Ballad #3

I'm so tired that must be why
I cannot write or sing a song,
And when I try it all gets wrong
I can but sit here and just sigh.

I can but sit here and just sigh
I cannot sing or write a song
And when I try all it gets wrong
I'm so tired that must be why.

I cannot write or sing a song
I can but sit here and just sigh
I'm so tired that must be why
And when I try it all gets wrong.


Blues#3

Well the doctor comes up to me and says
How do you feel?

He asks me questions then he says
How do you feel?

He shows me pictures then he says
How do you feel?

He drugs me chains me but never asks
How do you feel?


Ballad #4

They said something was wrong with me
About a year or so ago,
And now I do feel differently
You're cured they said and let me go.

Well I don't feel anymore cured
Than I felt mad a year ago,
Of which I am no longer sure,
Whisper- to Bedlam you should go.


Blues #4

Well my boy, you seem uncooperative
Sneering at the guards outside your door,
Teasing the doctors trying to make you whole
And what's this? Carving words on the floor!

My good man, you are very diseased,
What's this you write? Poetry!
Never read a poem. Very diseased.
Try to see what I see.

See what I see.

Cooperate, do not sneer
Those who chain you, do not tease
Those who berate you, do not write
Words, very diseased.


Ballad #5

I tell you doc, I cannot write,
My brain can't think up metaphors,
My voice no longer carries tune,
What should I do? What should I do?

I don't see what the problem is?
You cannot rhyme? Well who needs it.
You cannot sing? Well don't sing then.
You're cured now, can't you see?

But doctor, I can't dream!

You're cured now, can't you see?


Blues #5

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