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Maybe the encore will save us

Slow, steady female lead holds her note (and me),
baring her soul and troubled she’s paring too much skin
the concert pilgrim cries, “Can’t remember when or where, but I know I wasn’t lost last time,”
should have worn more deodorant though it’s not as strong as your drink or theirs, the iconic chorus words:
Ahh, now I feel peace–they
tell me to pick up my mat and walk–but where?

Tickle ivories, tickle tears, get drunk on the non-words, the non-rational, the misunderstood–could God do any better? Is this what He did?
tense like sex, but the clean up’s less,
yeah, it’s a mess, and so are these lives–floundering in (y)our words:
the amp wind rattles the couples and the hardwood,
the 40’s and the 20’s wiggle in this human concoction breathing your wine song,
I
pull away like a closing art house movie:
the soundtrack fades in, the unknown actors fade out, the credits roll in, and the patrons yell out:
“What does it mean?!”

it’s funny what puts down the PDAs and pent up phobias,
some say it’s best to minister to those with a beer in hand,
you sting them to sleep with your microphone
as they float–over the rhine.

Like paparazzi

Hiding in music you breathe your anger with-
fear-you try to steer clear.
It’s haunting like paparazzi
till you crash.

Gladiator

I will never be a soldier fighting a barbarian horde
Or see my family, crucified, hanging on my door,
But will stand on my word and my promise
To not seek the crowd’s thumb gest
For if I shall kill to seek revenge
My soul I know I’ll singe.
If I am to die in a tragic mess,
So be it, but that’s easy to say in U.S.

You do not fear Rome. It does not live.
You fear my God because He lives.
“I will see you in the after-life,
But not yet (unless you change).”

In Your bottle

You keep my tears in your bottle
Recording every drop on paper.
A deluge of hope in me
Saturating my struggle
With compassion and empathy.
It’s easier to hate this pain
Than love the causes of my cries
For mercy.
You make them bearable
So I don’t succumb
To my fears.

Drugged on fear since the first night

Drugged on fear since the first night,
Haunted by images of wrists clutched tight,
Forgotten your Father’s advice.
Said he wanted love, but he will suffice
Running so far, so fast; lost the way home.
Mind’s bruises are blue-er than your sensitive skin tone,
He might be worried, regress to one of his hourly fits.
Have you called in your location in the last 5 minutes?
Before you decide suicide during your nightly cries,
I hope you will leave someday; to realize
That pain’s not your fault and never was your blame.
He picked you, but why’d you change your last name?