Triping the Light Fantastic

Q without the A:

I’ve got lead in my belly
Anti-freeze in my veins
I got that light fantastic
Trippin round my brain

cause my mind’s always been made up
Of fat strawberries and iron rust
i have dreams like amphetamine
but my plans always turn to dust

your voice puts hope inside me
your heart puts holy water my veins
you've got that light fantastic
tripin round my brain

you got me going down the wrong side of the tracks
towards an oncoming train

you got me singing in the shower
and smiling in the rain

my heart skips a beat
whenever i hear your name

i wish i could read your thoughts
so i could ascertain

weather my chances are one in a million
or if we're a sure thing

should i speak my mind or play it safe?
do i even have it in me to make things plain?

is time on my side?
or am i losing this campaign?

can i keep waiting?
when i'm growing so tired of the game

if the answers to my questions
go against the grain
if you broadcast the message
that you don't feel the same
then i don't know if i could ever see myself
triping the light fantastic again

One More for the Road

Missing Possibilties:

Some people say I’m like nick drake
Bobby d. or the sesame street cookie fiend
But if there’s one true thing I can say about me
It’s that I’m none of these things
I’m god damn free

So pack up your comparisons
Put back your “remind me’s”
Leave off your longing
Forget about belonging
Ditch your heroes by the side of the road
And set yourself free

Forget about history
Write your own books
Live life slow and steady
Or fast and heady
Just set the pace yourself
And hold steady

Cause what you think is real today
Will tomorrow be a dream
let all god’s plans
Fall apart at the seams
Stop trying to be
And just be
Stop trying to flee
Stop trying to see
And Stop letting yourself fall asleep

Just play life by ear
hold on to what you feel’s dear
and never give in to fear
cause we’re all really just one in the same
tossing in a cosmic sea
ever changing and waiting to be changed
so just open all your mind’s eyes wide
and take a big bite from that pie in the sky
that’s always been your birth right
drink deep from every stream you happen to find
and if this seems like a tasty philosophy
then meet me in the kitchen
and we can brew our own batch of personal anarchy

Songs

Stole this idea from my friend Erek. ( http://ereksmith.blogspot.com/ )
If you like spread the word. There'll be more to come.



ba bwawna ba bwa
bwee bwee
bweedle bwe dee
be
be
beats the blues
beats the blues like when telling her you love her
means losing her
beats the blues like knowing
that you'll never bathe in the main street Christmas lights
all twisted round the lamp post like heaven and hell on earth
beats the blues like your last cigarette
doused in gasoline
beats the blues like Paul McCartney
beats his wife
beats the blues like all you've ever felt
exploding inside your brain
exploding like a thousand sticks of dynamite
boiled down and free basing hallucinogenic toreador
and HOWLING from the soul of the crying shepherd
mourning his last lamb







Identity is Collective Memory:

We are the Bedouin’s camel
Carved up as his soul and distributed to the whole
We are an old yellow lab
Born and bred to run and to hunt and to howl
Living our lives curled up by the fire
We are Joan of arc’s tears
shed as the flames scorched her cheeks
Too small to cool
Our salt stinging
I am my only parachute
To timid and unsure
To pull the cord
And fly up into the sun




Your body and soul are not mother’s blue.shining.china.plates
Locked up behind the glass door
Looking pretty all on display
But never going anywhere
Don’t be stationary
Be hard old yellow paper
All filled with doodles and forgotten songs
Even if no one cares
Be an old spoon
Dip yourself in
Get swirled around
Get used
Get dirty
Get clean
Loudly slurp up from yourself all you can
Get bent
get twisted all up by the little Buddha-Boy’s stare
let everyone in and get carried of on just the prayers
drown yourself in the sugar.cream.sweet
drown yourself in the bitter.dark.black
then fly up and slurp from your own head
make loud crazy ill-mannered noises
never do anything over and again
and again
and again
just forget to care
about work
about school
about your half mirror lover
and her body’s expiration date
marry a brain
there’s only so much plastic surgery can fix
never be a wedding present
don’t go there
or do
make a quick run
check it out
come back
throw up
get bent
get dirty and fucking ruined
nobody ever asked how a plate got so shiny



I stand in the shallows
watching the shadows of the fish
wondering which will swim by
Which will take my line
Which will bite me
Try to swallow me
In whose lip I will be entwined
Whose tail will thrash
Who will fight for every breath
Of cool clean water
Only to break the surface and drown
Only to show
My fratricidal eyes
That beauty is but the will to live




I am no more you
Than I am these words
There is no human dictionary
No man defines another
We are a race of thesauruses



Winter Song:
Can I truly know all the parts of myself
or is my psyche like the falling snow
similer from a distance and different up close
so many pieces each so small
that if i were to grasp my thoughts
they would melt and flow
through my fingers
leaving me alone
can we really be so far apart
that i will never know
which parts of me have turned to water
and which have kept cold


?????:
Absent apples thirstily climb the floor
thunder shines the door
mountains march toward lead shores
and waves scream silence at the horde
of poets who's fingers replaced with pens
spin images and rymes to no end
but whose heads are empty of deeper meaning
who's art is sterile, absent, yet adored


I'm Not Here:
i may or may not be here
when you're talking
I just won't hear

I may or May not be Here
when you speak of voltaire
there's that girl in the corner
with long flowing hair
and I wonder what life would be like
If born a bear

I may or may not be here
it's not that i don't care
it's just that...
man i could use a beer


????:
There were four grinding tires
and two tired ground men
drifting down the pavement
to where it ends or begins
and looking for something a little more

howling skynard at the moon

with a sack of homegrown
and a case of keystone
looking for something less a bore

when a cold wind blew down
from around
the bend
picked up the truck
and turned it's outside in
blew the boys minds
threw them at the sign
that so solemnly declared
no exit
one way