New Poetry: Some of a Sudden

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it’s your turn to be 

that crazy person

the role has recently

been vacated 

you’ll have to face 

their cruelty directly 

stomaching the looks

of incomprehension 

it’ll cost a pretty penny 

thank god for insurance 

getting those thoughts out

at any price will surely be worth it

Nothing is Wasted

 

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New Album- Why I Write

 

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Lullabye

 Lullabye

are we still in a lull

how long does it last

you seem depressed

why do you ask

i’d give you a call

if you’d respond

you might not be up

preferring down

my friend Carl used to savor one

paired with a wine

writing dead stars

without replies

i use the time

to be unproductive

putting existential goals in order

working seductions

Goddess of Irony

the goddess of irony 

drowns the city with her laughter

then she offers assistance

after every disaster

you tell her you're leaving

she says, "not so soon."

she's busy using your heart

to clean up her room

you swear you'll miss her 

this she doesn't believe

you hide those pictures of her sister 

in the folder on your screen

everyone carries her egg

within the egg is a lie

you find out too late

it’s not what it takes to survive

Zyprexa Latuda

I just watch everything and think

What the fuck is going on

I’m fine in my apartment

I see no reason to step out

I miss the city I miss the buzz

I just miss being young

But could you imagine stepping

Back into yesterday with what you know now

So I’m exiled in the suburbs

I’m that old crazy woman now

I won’t post more than a few pieces of art

It’s insane how everything is public

Where’s the dignity in that

When I get too lonely I just talk to my plants

You’ll never get me

The way you want me

Live with your regrets 

While I don’t have any

I had my fun

And now I’ve got my dignity 

Can’t step into that cesspool again 

Not with these heels

Traumarama

I meet a lot of people 

coming out of trauma 

they make it sound thrilling 

connecting with something 

that gives them 

so much meaning 

before I can wish it 

could happen to me 

they’ve got me up to 

my bare sleeves

 

I breathe them in 

over my skin 

before I can tell 

what’s happening 

I’m feeling horrific visions 

blended with love 

resembling the predictions 

science warns us about 

I’m telling you all about it 

just telling you all about it

Eating Tomorrow

Click this 

this again

 

what we say and what we do 

in this world of thieves 

can I count on you 

to stick it to me

in everyone we’ve got

a mini-me 

pocket dictator 

mirror of society 

and I get down 

thinking about it 

get up putting it 

into pockets

work it out 

then bring the lucre home 

trying to make sense

of these hangovers

it’s the curse of work

hardship of birth

and the wonders 

of you 

searching everywhere

for one beautiful thing 

most days I surrender

to the ugly truth  

I’d like to believe 

I was wrong all along 

these signs me nothing

everyone is smart

but I’m haunted by those

Phil Ochs songs

not that naive to believe 

anything since has been done 

and you’re the answer 

to these imponderable questions 

don’t think I ever 

learned my lesson 

I scare them all away

 I scare them all away

Is it the way I look 

or what I say 

they’re going by the book 

that’s what they said 

eyes start to move 

searching the exit 

they’ll stay for dessert 

then make their break 

I scare them all away 

back to their little caves 

they bolt their doors and pray 

for a return to boring 

I get lonely 

like everyone else 

it’s more about disappointment 

than anything else 

that unquenched thirst 

for more of the same 

is something I’ve never 

been able to explain 

I stand at the center of the square

peering into their faces 

they’re too busy with trends 

to really notice

so I step on them 

knock down their buildings 

blow out the sun 

as they curse the weather 

it’s enough to 

make a monster

just want to 

be by himself 

Doublage

one’s not enough

you need more stuff

someone to carry it home

maybe support/reinforcement

multiplication for what

who needs more

you want a double

maybe a triple

one’s not enough

something could happen

you could easily snap

then be completely lost

she senses something

completing sentences

so much for individuality, gone

thinking she could use

another pair of hands

but maybe not another mouth

Metaphor Shortages

 Metaphor Shortages

can’t wear those pants no more

i don’t dance for anyone

can’t drink more than soda

no more chili dog runs

don’t deal with Frank at all

haven’t called cousins in ages

they supported that fraud

i cancelled the engagement

one door opens another closes

dream dies another’s born

riding these waves like a leaf

floating in a flash flood

still think about you daily

still read for full-on days

ruminating possibilities

with the impatience of age

wanna be more compassionate

gonna get out of debt

be playing you the piano

but haven’t learned it yet

New Poetry

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Nudes now streaming

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Thinking thematically about stuff no one cares about

 My friend Sean Flora is finishing mixes on the next mini-album, "Nudes" and should be ready in two-three weeks, depending on how badly he needs the money. 

I'm sitting on an embarrassing number of albums and as I'm single and everyone close to me is dead, I guess I've got the luxury of putting out stuff at some sort of pace. I figure a 20-minute "album" every 4 months shouldn't look too pathetically desperate, but I could be wrong. Hey, Beatles used to do that. 

"Nudes" sort of fits nicely against "Obsessives" and "Insomnia", my last two releases as the albums are a bit more intimate and diy compared to the others I'm preparing. Short of another quickie, I've got lots with so many gobs of overdubs by very high-level folks that they threaten to bury me in my own songs. 

It's an interesting experience to approach/pay people you grew up listening to to work on your stuff. "What do these people think when approached by hobbyists like yourself?" She asked me, assuring me that any self-respecting woman who wanted a family would order an immediate cease and desist. 

As I struggled to not be triggered by the same sort of question that was lobbed at me by most of my immediate family, I quickly fell back into the "everyone's suffering through the same paradigm" response, and reminded her that most of the greats had day jobs. 

But I should have mentioned that there's quite a thrill getting keyboards from Barry Andrews, guitars from Ivan Julian, saz from Lu Edmonds, or basslines from Paulo LePetit; people I've listened to for years. It turns on my middle-aged mind.