Month: November 2005

  • fall returns

    the leaves are falling once again
    disquieted spirits on the road again
    we’ve sullied our sunday best again
    the preacher says only believe again

    i cannot return to the pain again
    the sorrows they’ve begun to stain again
    our wishes were baskets of hope again
    and sunday’s our only reprieve again

    they said we could never repair again
    but they’ve only just noticed despair again
    my shoulders, they ache from the weight again
    yet the stars seem to call out my name again

    there’s only one chance at hello again
    but my back turns the color of fear again
    we may never recover to blame again
    but it’s starting to sound quite the same again


  • all for you

    i crush my cigarette in the ash tray one last time
    one last time i feel the sweet heavy burden on my chest
    we weren’t meant to live forever, i heard someone say
    steel resolve pulses through my veins
    i may not live forever…

    …but i won’t leave her to face it all alone

    it’s all for you, i cry with silent tears
    to meet your needs and ease your fears
    a child inside breaks
    the strain of too much reality
    i never asked to be born, he whispers painfully
    i did not ask for this…

    …i stand silently and awkwardly
    allowing the moment of weakness to pass
    before changing the subject to ease the tension

    it’s not that truth is so bad… no… not really
    it’s that lies are so much more comfortable
    it’s that life is hard enough when you’re keeping track of lies
    even without adding the burden of truth

    in the background, a child’s cry can still be heard
    softly now, rhythmic like a rocking chair
    gently caressing and soothing itself with misery

    it’s all for you, i heard her say
    i’m waiting, softly waiting,
    hoping you will make it to me
    hoping for what could and will be


  • Discovering Anselm Kiefer

    It was the fall of 2001. 9/11 was on the horizon. I was studying in Denmark for a semester and enjoying the early autumn light. My fellow students and I were given tours of several attractions and museums early in the semester. I was introduced to Anselm Kiefer’s work at the Louisiana Museum.

    I was captivated instantly when I saw Kiefer’s paintings. They had an industrial quality to them that spoke to me of the sadness and despair of the modern era. Factories, concrete, fascism, and war are themes that jump out to me. There was something lost to the civilized world during that period.I’m not exactly advocating tree hugging, but a sadness crept into the world with the loss of natural beauty and the introduction of smog, grinding metallic sounds, and cold steel.

    Gone are the days of warm tones and gentle breezes, peaceful meadows and openhearted human interaction. Kiefer depicted this change with such power. Swirling greys and blacks, smokestacks and the loss of color.I do not recommend his work to anyone looking for a cheerful, uplifting scene. However, the emotional realism conveyed in his work reminds us what we’ve forsaken, and causes the human heart to appreciate the cost of “forward progress” by experiencing a sharp sense of loss. I am told that not all of Kiefer’s work is so grey. I am told that some of it is even quite elegant and beautiful.

    For some reason, I am surprised. How does a man find it within himself to evoke both the depths and the heights of existence from his soul and pour them out onto canvas?


  • how to save a life

    i saw horrible things, my dear
    horribly wasted innocent babies
    your stomach would turn
    eyes would bleed
    and hearts would swell

    we live in a beautiful world
    choose your glances carefully
    shrivelled grass and skin
    blow in the wind like torn pages

    life is but a dream, they say
    tortured by bandits & penniless drifters
    neon markets and cannibals’ songs
    whispers carried softly upon stale breath


  • can you see

    i saw horrible things, my dear horribly wasted innocent babies

    your stomach would turn eyes would bleed and hearts would swell

    we live in a beautiful world choose your glances carefully

    shrivelled grass and skin blow in the wind like torn pages

    life is but a dream, they say tortured by bandits & penniless drifters

    neon markets and cannibals’ songs whispers carried softly upon stale breath