I Spoke to The Machine

and The Machine said...

You are freakin' out. MAN.

I didn't sleep. I'll admit I feel a little patchy.

I had a black haired dog

He died beside the road

I watched him bleed onto the stones

And near the ditch, I held my hand

His blood and breath were hot

We dug a grave to call his own

Said a prayer for a dog

And buried him inside

My father cried, my father cried, my father cried

And this mountain

Is gonna come down

This whole mountain

Is gonna come down

I had a dream last night

While I was still awake, getting

drowned out by such thoughts

as a kettle over boiling on the stove

In the kitchen, screaming

We carried him up past the lake

And up the mountain trail

Two Angels at my side

And I threw them over the edge, said you’ve got wings so fly!

Teach me- teach me, how to make death die

And this mountain

Is gonna come down

This whole damn mountain

Is gonna come down

**** it- I broke your Cat

Nobody ever really wins
Nobody ever really wins
You just learn to give up and fold with the most from your hand,
But nobody ever really wins
They say, boy just put your cards down, now, don't be too bold
You know there's nothing that great that could be YOURS to hold
Yeah, ya know nobody ever really wins

And nobody ever really dies
No, nobody really dies
They just fade away long before they get put in their graves
Nobody really dies at all
They just get drugged and put down by a ball and chain
And that's what's waitin' for you, boy, when you get down the lane
Nobody ever really dies
And they did it to jonny, the did it to tom
The light leaves your eyes, but you keep keepin' on
And by the time God catches up with you, you're already gone
Nobody really dies at all

Today's Forecast: Lovesick with a chance of creative fusion

So. I could say alot of really cliche' things, but look. I had a great time.
On my way back to Michigan I wrote this at a bus station at about two in the morning or something. I was sad and that's more or less what it's all about.

Chicago Stole She (Heart-Pain-Sickness)

Chicago stole she my love
Chicago stole she my name
Chicago stole she the road I was on
And left me with nothing to blame
Still waiting in a port of call in the dust of all the wander broke
Away from my sunshine, and my warm rain, and the girl I remember to hold
But I have a long gray chair for nobody at all
Alone: my pack and me
And where all of this is heading now
Well, neither of us can say we believe
Chicago stole she my heart
Chicago stole she my pain
Chicago stole she my sickness
And left just the fever again
A woman's pale eyes sweep the black off the horizon
In the dark she has learned to call her home
And the way her jaw clamps as we hit every ramp
Tells she's angry now, she's no longer young
And the man who steers this rickety ship
Always wanted to learn himself to fly
But he's taking this boat back and forth oer' death's river
On the sunless shore, and it's passing the time

(ch)Your hooks are inside me now, sweeter even than your lips
Oh and what I want is right where I can't go,
"Turn around! Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!"
Chicago

A man in a cap about eighty and three says
he'd put his hands back on the wheel
The way it was back when he could always just ride
Without brakes, through a cloud of unknowing and real
But the captain knows better that fleeting desire
Sees without eyes the whole merciless void
And stands to the sky, ancient compass up high
And with no stars still finds us the way

CH

Some john deere sage of the concrete temple
murmurs wisdom behind my seat as if through a veil
Telling how he taught all his daughters to love,
and taught them the hardest thing about love's the time
Chicago stole she my love, Chigago stole she my name...

And a man is never sposed' to cry. But if he don't love, aint' a man ever can.
Yeah the hardest thing about the loving's the time.
Lord he was right, he was right.
Turn around, turn around, turn around,
chicago!
Chicago stole she my heart-pain-sickness,
and left just the fever again.

My mind is a festering nexus of confusion. It swirls with emotions that I can't fragment into parts. I should probably just stop being so self centered and focus my energies on loving others, and on meditation, physical exercise, and writing tomes on faith and knowledge... and on justice, and purity. Instead, my energies are directed in other directions. Mostly to music and the writing of things that don't exist. But I'm finding some comfort in those things, for now.

When it get so black all around you that you feel like a speck of ash without purpose, or value, you can always sing. "This big bad world is gonna gobble you up, gonna gobble you up, gonna gobble you up..." Then maybe you can laugh in spite of yourself, raise your middle finger proud, and sometimes even find your way out of it. Do I have problems? Yeah. Probably. Sometimes I think I should be taking medicine or something. But that sounds... weak. It also sounds like an excuse. If I listed all the things that are wrong with me, I'd probably start to feel all special and unique and tortured. That's for emo rockers, or girls on xanga who shop at hot topic... and the birds. But maybe I'm just a dick.

I'm gonna go on a trip to Kentucky. I think that'll help.

Anyway. All this is to say that I've been feeling my mental state is rather flexible, lately. Probably just stress though. So here's the story: Hopefully I can put some stuff together. But, then again, I never really have in the past, so...

Previously the only force strong enough to galvinize me toward any real change has been extreme trauma. If that isn't a trend I can change it'll probably be the end of me, someday.

Next time I post, it will be big. Get ready.

Create new post! Seriously?

Welp. Dunno if people are reading this. Or care. But that doesn't make much difference anyway, does it? Because I gotta write. I gotta create and keep a record of that somewhere...

Standin' outside, watchin' the ice on the lake
Just sittin' there
Cold to the bone, combing the snow
Through my charcoal hair
It isn't quite like the story's said it would be
When I was young
And I believed
The world was warm

But it's pretty cold here

Wrapped in a sheet, clinging to heat
and there's bottles everywhere
I should be at work, but I don't have a job
And I don't have a care
I'm gonna waste a lot of time with my friends
Gonna do it on their dime, if I can
There's sure many different paths that I could take

But it's gettin' late

So I'm thinking of starting a song out like that. Depressing, huh? It's not meant to be. It's just a thought.

The Long Dark Black

Yahweh, Yahweh...

He stared up, but there was nothing. Only the black and the clouds. Not even the light of the moon. If not for street lamps, there would have been nothing but the inky darkness. He tasted smoke, coffee, hallucinations, and interminable vastness on his lips. And he spoke then, in a language he did not know...

* God. Send me an Angel, God.*

He stretched up into the infinite vastness of the cosmos as if a statue built from eternity and sculpted with fire brought from all the corners of the universe. He had sailed to the edges. He had fallen, fallen through so many hells and heavens... His legs were pillars that dissapeared into the ocean beneath the endless. For there were waters there. Ancient and dark and swelling. Yes, they were swelling. He had seen them. He had ridden them.
And he knew then that he was a part of all of it. Not that he was everything, but that everything was him. And he slept then, but his eyes moved. He had a million eyes. They saw everything at once in all places from now to the beginning to the part before that which is truly the end. And he saw how it was all one, and how it was all at once so large and small and trapped and free and terrifying... And he did not understand. He slept then. But his eyes moved. He was dreaming, somewhere, something... something was dreaming, someone that was not him. Or perhaps he was not him. Perhaps he was someone else. But there was no fear, no anxiety of loosing it and no concern for the never waking of death or eternal dream. He closed his million timeless eyes and went back inside, found himself there- in his dreams. Casually. On a whim. Come, he said. You have been sleeping. Wake up.
It was easy as breathing.

He stepped outside and lit a cigarette, because there was nothing for it now, anyway. He looked up. One star. "Thank you..." he muttered. Then, "Just say something. Not much, just a word. Just hi, hello, just any little bit to let me know I'm not alone, or that I'm not for nothing." There was no such response. "Fine." He said. "That's fine. You know what? I'm going to follow you anyway. Because I'm going to find you. I'm going to catch you."
THE STAR SPOKE
"To fire and death." He replied.
THE STAR SPOKE
"No, it isn't what I want... of course not. But I will take it, if it's what you give me."
THE STAR SPOKE
"It always has been, hasn't it?"
THE STAR SPOKE
"Yeah..." He said, shaking his head. "Yeah."

He spoke softly as he entered. "Hallelujiah I die today, back to God, oh back to God..." The he danced. He flailed his arms wildly and his voice began to raise. First to a shout. Then to a scream.
HALLALUJIAH I DIE TODAY! HALLELUJIAH I DIE TODAY! HALLELUJIAH I DIE TODAY! BACK TO GOD, OH BACK TO GOD!

I felt the world's heart beat today,
I felt the world's heartbeat today
I felt the world's heart beat today
Hallelujiah, Back to God

I saw the morning rise today
I saw the morning rise today
I saw the morning rise today
Hellelujiah, Back to God

Hallelujiah, I die today!
Hallelujiah, I die today!
Hallelujiah, I die today!
Back to God,
Oh, Back to God