I Am Here
I am here
Fixed on the nothingness
Of a blank stare.
Job applications flutter
In the pinewood air
Needing to be filled out
Or tossed away.
I do not have a passport
So I can not escape to another country
My imagination bankrupt
Self evident truths no longer
A dime a dozen.
I barely remember the wheelbarrow
You pushed me around in and how
I once teetered on a cliff of my own devising
Finding it both reckless and romantic.
I am not here
In need of electroshock therapy or something
That would either jolt me in or out of this
Forced reality.
The world supposedly needs people like myself,
Dreamers who have never quite grown or given up
Lately though I am not entirely convinced me or
The world will ever see eye to eye.
When the nothingness all around becomes a
Comfortable blanket of hoarfrost and delirium
Is it time to pull the plug or perhaps get a new
Take on everything exhaled from your frozen
Heart and head.
Charlie
January 21, 2007
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Personification
Personification
I must begin again
There’s no other way
I must go out before an in
Can be revealed to me.
Am I a twin?
Two halves of a disenfranchised soul?
The Alpha or the Omega of my own
Latent apocalypse?
Seize the day
Seize the ruins of a civilization gone mad
Seize the madness of both success and failure.
The paint on the canvas represents love
Or the paint on the canvas represents nothing,
A joyous nothingness you’ve been at odds with
Since you were vacuumed out of the womb.
People see you doing nothing and they believe
You’re doing nothing when what they can not
Even begin to comprehend is how very much
Is going on inside your heart and head.
What am I the personification of?
Why don’t I bathe more and look at myself more
In the mirror?
Is it because I can not stand to see what I have become
And that even with no verdict handed down I’m still guilty
Of every crime they say I’ve committed.
I wanted to tell you how much I love you
And yet I knew it wouldn’t make any difference
Now that you’ve come to the conclusion that
I am worthless and everything written in blood
Has been washed away with the rain and snow.
Charlie 1/07
I must begin again
There’s no other way
I must go out before an in
Can be revealed to me.
Am I a twin?
Two halves of a disenfranchised soul?
The Alpha or the Omega of my own
Latent apocalypse?
Seize the day
Seize the ruins of a civilization gone mad
Seize the madness of both success and failure.
The paint on the canvas represents love
Or the paint on the canvas represents nothing,
A joyous nothingness you’ve been at odds with
Since you were vacuumed out of the womb.
People see you doing nothing and they believe
You’re doing nothing when what they can not
Even begin to comprehend is how very much
Is going on inside your heart and head.
What am I the personification of?
Why don’t I bathe more and look at myself more
In the mirror?
Is it because I can not stand to see what I have become
And that even with no verdict handed down I’m still guilty
Of every crime they say I’ve committed.
I wanted to tell you how much I love you
And yet I knew it wouldn’t make any difference
Now that you’ve come to the conclusion that
I am worthless and everything written in blood
Has been washed away with the rain and snow.
Charlie 1/07
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Behind Blue Bars
Behind Blue Bars
When we’re talking I am not writing
When we aren’t talking writing returns
The art needs my full attention
I must sacrifice myself for anything good to come
This isn’t meant to be sinister
I do not intend to become my very own haunted house
I just feel like I am suffocating when I am in touch
And when out of touch the art is my only confidant
The Nazi’s have broken out of my head
All the best wars have already been laid to rest
You probably will not understand this
Probably wonder what I am going on about
When we’re making love I am not communicating
When we are at odds the communication stops and starts
I remember you jumping up and down on the hotel bed while we listened to Blood On The Tracks; it’s the first time in a very long time that I discovered someone who was not holding anything back.
I know I disgust you
I’m not sure if I disgust myself.
Charlie 1/07
When we’re talking I am not writing
When we aren’t talking writing returns
The art needs my full attention
I must sacrifice myself for anything good to come
This isn’t meant to be sinister
I do not intend to become my very own haunted house
I just feel like I am suffocating when I am in touch
And when out of touch the art is my only confidant
The Nazi’s have broken out of my head
All the best wars have already been laid to rest
You probably will not understand this
Probably wonder what I am going on about
When we’re making love I am not communicating
When we are at odds the communication stops and starts
I remember you jumping up and down on the hotel bed while we listened to Blood On The Tracks; it’s the first time in a very long time that I discovered someone who was not holding anything back.
I know I disgust you
I’m not sure if I disgust myself.
Charlie 1/07
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Wounded
Wounded
She is wounded
Deaf and dumb
Stronger than most.
Write this prophecy down
Write it with teeth and eyes
Write it in menstrual blood.
Skywriting for the birds
Musicians covered in feathers
The Great American novel shit.
He is immortal
Ragged and dirty
Stupider than most.
Build a Church in your heart
Build it with your third eye
Build it on sand.
We are wounded
Injured and spiraling
Stranger than strange.
Charlie 1/3/07
She is wounded
Deaf and dumb
Stronger than most.
Write this prophecy down
Write it with teeth and eyes
Write it in menstrual blood.
Skywriting for the birds
Musicians covered in feathers
The Great American novel shit.
He is immortal
Ragged and dirty
Stupider than most.
Build a Church in your heart
Build it with your third eye
Build it on sand.
We are wounded
Injured and spiraling
Stranger than strange.
Charlie 1/3/07
Monday, December 25, 2006
Mystery Child
We drive through the coal mines of darkness – night a refuge – someone else’s dirty secret – she was wearing my heart on her sleeve it embarrassed me so I looked away – I looked toward the snow covered mountains – the desert sands – made friends with a junkyard dog – someone who did not judge me too harshly – how was I to know bad dreams can or can not come true depending on your prayers the night before – isolation scared the living hell out of me when I was a mystery child now it’s a refuge – he played the guitar like Christ being crucified – blood medicine – soul journey – border crossing – we drive – gamble – cry – make love in dark caves – darkness abates when we open our hearts – to what? to who? I met my faith head on in Death Valley it was dressed as a park ranger told me all about ravens and heroin addicts who write the freshest prose – blood sausage – blood oranges – bloodshot and wishing this hangover were not so honest – I do not drink don’t even do drugs anymore even denial has been hung up for another set of clothes – we owe ourselves love – we owe ourselves happiness – we drive through the sun at the speed of light praying we don’t get burned... Charlie 12/25/06
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Ready, Set, Go!
Ready, Set, Go!
If there is a chance I will take it
A chance to live without guilt
A reason to reason no longer
If there is a way I will discover it
This is what I’ve always done
I wait and I wait and I wait
Until the lights burn my retinas
And I know a Savior is close at hand
No more Bible reading
I must live these words before it’s too late
I’m a serial poet hell bent on killing false memories
I’m a lone voice looking for a free buffet
I must get in the ambulance and drive toward the setting sun
I must put my pistol down on the imaginary table and pray
For solitude
When I paint with watercolors everything reveals itself
When I paint with oils everything goes down the tube
No more reading from the want ads
I know what I want and it will not be found on the printed page
When I enter a hotel room first thing I do is look for a Bible
When I enter my Father’s House first thing I do is repent
Charlie October 30, 2006
If there is a chance I will take it
A chance to live without guilt
A reason to reason no longer
If there is a way I will discover it
This is what I’ve always done
I wait and I wait and I wait
Until the lights burn my retinas
And I know a Savior is close at hand
No more Bible reading
I must live these words before it’s too late
I’m a serial poet hell bent on killing false memories
I’m a lone voice looking for a free buffet
I must get in the ambulance and drive toward the setting sun
I must put my pistol down on the imaginary table and pray
For solitude
When I paint with watercolors everything reveals itself
When I paint with oils everything goes down the tube
No more reading from the want ads
I know what I want and it will not be found on the printed page
When I enter a hotel room first thing I do is look for a Bible
When I enter my Father’s House first thing I do is repent
Charlie October 30, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Why Are We Here? By Joni Soule
Why are we here? Nothing clear
logical thinking is not clear
neither is chaos
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