Dialogues & Diatribes II

Tokens Of a Life I Know

“When did she leave?” I can hardly believe, you must be so sad

It’s not the love you receive, or the love that you grieve that measures a man

People console you with their looks, or their self-help books, to get you by

But you can tell they’re dirty crooks, with rusty hooks and worn out lines.

With a night this clear, my buddies pass me beers, by the fireside

I tell em of my fears, how I was brought to tears, I’ve got nothing left to hide

Well we’ve got the grill goin now, and Noah’s showin’ us how it’s supposed to be done

Maybe we’ll get drunk and shout, or sing “Write This Down,” and forget that I love someone

Because time is all we’ve got and it’s a twist in the plot, but maybe it’s right

There’s a blessing in that thought, I’ll give you all I’ve got, just give me the green light

I’ve cleaned out the drawers, but kept the photos I adore, as tokens of a life I know

It’s clear you’re not coming through that door, that alone rattles my core, but I’ve got to grow

So when I get up for work, with a little less hurt, maybe it will turn around

I’ll throw on a clean shirt and paint on my best smirk, as I go about the town

Until I see you there, with your long brown hair, flowing so seamlessly

I try not to stare, but I still get my mail there, in the dream of you and me

Chefs Knives and Chopped Garlic

We moved into a place our own. A small, apartment close to the beach and our friends. We’d spend our evenings cooking italian dishes, drinking red wine and fucking on the kitchen counter top next to the chefs knife and chopped garlic. Life was simple.

Cheap Perfume

I don’t run

I sit and dwell

With the demons

On a back porch

Ashing my cigarettes

And listening to the ocean

Waves break

Eroding a coastline

At the heels of mansions

With million dollar men sipping bourbon

While their wives doze from Klonopin

The stars shine bright

In the sky above

A gentle reminder of the reaper

Then it all gets wiped away

When she sits down next to me

Smelling oh so lovely

The alarm

The work to do

All the pain from the day to day

Good Woman

In light of recents years

I’ve come to the conclusion

That there are certain qualities in a woman

You can hold a candle to

Before falling to your knees

And devoting your life to a ring.

It’s important that she loves you

Or puts the toilet paper on the right way

Or has good hygiene

Or holds your trembling hands

Or laughs at your jokes

Or makes a funny sound while eating ravioli

Or wears the same colored socks

Or sleeps on the side of the bed you hate

Or is willing to wash your underwear

Or deals with your friends

Or smiles at the right times

Or can make you laugh without trying

Or wears a nice fragrance

Or puts up with all your shit which is too long to list.

A good woman will stand by your side

Let me tell you from experience

I had one once

The Simplicity of Sunday

Like most Sundays in this wayward house of youth, I woke up with a paralyzing fear I skipped my Monday alarm. A night of overindulgence and negligence will do that to you. I rolled over to kiss my gal and stood up scratching my balls with the charisma of a champion boxer. It’s Sunday dammit and my hangover hasn’t kicked in yet.

I walked up stairs to clear the clutter, careful to cover my tracks. Taking out the trash I noticed the air was still and I knew the tide was high. It’s early enough that there’s still a bite, so I grabbed my pole and walked down to the beach. Sundays are meant for simplicity.

Caviar Dreams

As I whistle quietly to the sea

You twirl mellifluously

In the ballet of my daydreams  

Dear Ma,

Hey Mamma, things are well

Your only son has traveled the world

He’s been through heartbreak

And found love he’ll take to the grave

I know you’re not a fan of my drinkin’

But when I stack the bottles I get to thinkin’

About that time we got stoned up in B.C.

Smilin’ over melting ice cream 

You put color in a world of black and white

Played Pink Floyd and showed me whats right 

Read me stories and tucked me in at night

I guess that’s what mammas are for

Life’s alright out here on my own

I’ve got a good woman and a place to call home

There’s surf out back and the dream ahead

And I still sleep with your father’s painting by my bed.

Taxes

The taxman bled my pockets today

Left me with $126 to my name

The old truck started up

With the volume stuck at 43

And I drove to the liquor store

Like a millionaire

I made my usual rounds

Thought of the rent that’s paid

Thought of the leftovers

Thought of my woman coming over

I’m broke but ain’t broken 

My friend Paul says as he hands me cigarettes

My sheets are washed 

Underwear dried

Toenails clipped

There’s surf on the horizon

My life is pretty fucking good

Objects Are Closer Than They Appear

The whole world is burning in your rear view

Over something someone said to you

I felt the floor give out beneath me

Do you believe those church bells ring true?

You’re a light among me that shines

So bright that it burns my eyes

But I’m behind you now

In the fading embers of the sky

Won’t you turn around?

Casual Waltz

There’s something about smoking a cigarette with a vodka tonic. The two go hand in hand with the grace of a beautiful slow dance. Never stepping on any toes, only complimenting each other along the way.