That old familiar feeling

Hello old friend you've come again
In guise of winter darkness.
Your Frosty sheen is cold and mean
And you've saddled me like a cowboy.

In days of snow your magic grew
Despite the cold, I still had youth
And now my older years have come
It seems I'll never see the sun.

I told you once you had no end
And then I gained and lost some friends
In moments I had such great bliss
Then lost it all in moments like this:

The pre-waking hour when I see what's to come
And what has gone and what I've done.

All i do is win

It started with this day though, all these little hohos/ up in the store beggin for more and the drizzlan was like oh no. Too young to be living it, too old to give up/ I had the pussy on a pedestal/ my mind was all made up. I should have been like roomy/ money first then poony/ my girl was like the wind as it pushed me back towards Jersey. Asked her if she'd marry/ all this time I'd carried/ stupid girl was always up in shady shit that varied. Real world that I hated led me to get jaded till another b**** made me feel again only to be hated. I was then alone, motel was my home/ till 5 days in a bus ride, got me to a dome. Living with my parents and always down on luck till I lost my damn mind, scene missing, out of the rut.

Now I'm just years older, story of a soldier/ gone AWOL off the wall till I finally settled down/ moved to a new town, and I'm focused on that money. Looking back I grin because today I only win.

"All I do is win! win!"

The addict's pledge

For every time the bottle calls
Go to the gym instead.
And every time nicotine whines-
Picture its hand leading you to death.
And as fast food is a demanding mistress
Treat yourself to vegetables and ranch in bed-
But most of all, my friend, clear your head.

The gift of ignorance in knowledge

The last wooing of pretty girls
Is compliments on their pretty white  dresses
And how nicely it compliments their curls.

The last hoorah of a talented man
Is when he gets his corner office
And sits atop his pile of sand.

The madman!
His day is always exalted!
By legions of winged nyphettes-
And all their gods and goddesses.

He is not bound by rythms and he knows nothing of rhyme-
Save the counting of the heart beat to
the inescapable: time.

I think I'd rather break the code
Of daily life lived poorly
So I end up like the madman
With a ever-changing story.
And sit atop a heap of dead dragons in my Quixote glory!

Fever dreams

It's cold my friend these bones ache and rattle
and quake at the firey world around me.
my heart races stronger with thoughts impure
Demure people have no idea the strain.

What vicious act of mind adulteration
i've come upon virulence in body as well
I regret.

Oh porcelain throne adorn my head
Evict the culprit of this demon in my soul.
a wretch that makes all men whole again
would bid grateful welcome to me now.

This feeling in my stomach, heart and head
am I panicked? Dying? Or already dead?

The Ballad of Crazy Jane

Dear master, in kind I do reply
Save warning you unto her claws
In passing, her former bequeathed a light
That conflagration is now because-

He left her far too soon for words
And ailment sets upon her brow.
For every day she was alone
Bore two she spent upon the prowl.

To quench her vicious soul-burned heart
She'd hunt the weakest of the heard
The ones who wanted what she had
Which after him, it wasn't much.

What glory it was to look and see
Her paintings in the secluded room
Made from lovers and hatred both
Who dared to tread upon her womb.

Though hatred she bore naught for them
Lest she become a dulled edge knife
Her craft became an art for him
To bring him company in nowhere rooms.

So now in cage you'll transport her
Whose imprisonment was signature
On art that bordered brilliance
Perhaps you'll get away with your life
Or be her finest figurature.

'Tis the gift

Life is a war hard won.
You get moments of brilliance
But there's a lot which isn't fun.

Behold the lillies who neither toil nor spin
But who listens to Dylan?
"We'll never find THE answer blowing in the wind!"

And yet people complain of self fulfil-less prophesies
That they pump into their children:
Their escapist, dreaming progeny:
Who consume each chance to leave
This dream of adversarial sovreignty.

And here I sit and muse all the while
Just wishing for the dream:
10 million simple smiles.