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Lyrics
Tensile Tongue
Flexing my lexicon
Muscling with reminisce
Lifting might lingual
Pressing word angles
How can I exorcise a line?
Or bench a weighted word?
Fillip
Thrown at me with raptured force
An object whistling through its course
I know a pule from ripe riposte
But rifled trifles hurt the most
Whizzing words just by my ear
Hurling insults very near
Aimed to strike and create fear
A flippant gesture loud and clear
Owlster
There’s an owl’s nest in the Tenderloin
It’s high up on a pole, aloft on the edge
When the owl piffs its head forth
Shrieks from beak, its eyes seek
But a mate comes forward
And alas, despite the shriek
The hole allows for only one
Melancholy Country
Sadness abroad
Fills and swells
Fixed glazed eyes
On others doing what they do
Just like us, but different
They teach us to be human
And that all love is all the more
Like
The power of a simile
Lies in its ability
To connect to things like lichen
Or reflect and cut like diamond
A simple word like “as”
Can give us moment’s pause
And like its hidden guile
Like the power of a smile
Army Piece
He wore a piece of his soldier’s guise
Homophobic rage his gaze
Meddled in the minds of men
Ringing in the ears he’s wrung
Tied to those he says he’s not
Discussed with self, his lye abused
Lessened, grayed, his score is hoar
Mends his piece, no longer peeks
Miner, digger, gold, or naval
Prize his pride, from others wrested
Rolling Scent
I smelled that aftershave from afar
It made my eyes burn, gasp for air
The Charmin wafted through my skin
And made the crowd feel really thin
Your tissue scent spun off the roll
And placed you in a similar role
Square for square you sheet the wind
And make us flush with knowing grin
Five Minutes
Five minutes, whoa-oh
Nostradamus
A nut job loser fanatic crazy
Whom others see as prophet
A prophet is a social creation
One must claim oneself to be
And other must say the same
But that does not make a prophet
Nor a prophecy make sense
It takes more than numerical codes
To know the world’s future
Them
She would like to try
She would like to try and be someone
She would like to try
And be someone known for her rugs
He would love to find
He would love to find another route
He would love to find
Another route for his soft porn
She would rather not talk about him
Or his job woes
He would rather drift into a cafe
And be someone
They would rather simply socialize
Lovely artsy couple something
Not so lovely artsy couple
Sun Bomb
In the days before the sun
I forgave the shining heat
In the days before the cool
I called the frost anew
I left the way of weather
For nothing I have seen
Bereft of ways together
A lurid mine I’ve been
Nostalgia
A now expressed through past time
Encumbered by the memory
A real life lived and now gone
The way we make sense of it all
Thinking back on all things
A melancholy effort
The loss of time and friends
The thoughts don’t even cut it