Nightlake

Nightlake

nightlake

Why are we so far apart? Why don’t these tired arms sprout wings and carry me to you? SMS takes too long to run to you, travelling through stale air and over rusty telephone lines. I wish I could put this beating heart on a paper airplane and fly it to you, it’s been so long since I’ve held you. Wish I could send you the BPM, put a pulse out for you. Always a sky full of stars, I know you’ve got the same ones as I do, but even if you didn’t, even if there was an ocean between us, I’d be the first on The Orient to see those twinkling lights on the nightlake with you.

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I met a bear today.

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Prisonsong

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I wish I could turn that stereo up, drown out all the static from space. Schemin’ For The Masses,...

Nightlake

Nightlake

Why are we so far apart? Why don’t these tired arms sprout wings and carry me to you? SMS takes...

In This Decade

In This Decade

In this decade                                                                     because it is...

Asphalt

Asphalt

Let’s hit the asphalt, run it to gravel, to dirt, to the open frontierlands at the edge of the...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

In This Decade

In This Decade

in this decade

In this decade

                                                                    because it is hard

                     we will

                                                                                                            not because it is easy.

 

Light the torch, let’s sing this anthem into the night. They might not answer, maybe we’re all alone, maybe it’s just us. Just us and the stars. But we’ve got a lot of flags yet to be flown where the wind doesn’t go. The birds and the beasts stop short but we’ve got a sunset to fly past, rising over the new dawn, let’s go First Man won’t be the last.

 

If you do go, if you do walk out over the stars, let me come along so I can see Brilliance rising in this crumbling cosmos.

Photo Credit

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I met a bear today.

I met a bear today.

a short storyI  put my bags up on the conveyor belt and was reaching for my shoes when I saw him....

Prisonsong

Prisonsong

I wish I could turn that stereo up, drown out all the static from space. Schemin’ For The Masses,...

Nightlake

Nightlake

Why are we so far apart? Why don’t these tired arms sprout wings and carry me to you? SMS takes...

In This Decade

In This Decade

In this decade                                                                     because it is...

Asphalt

Asphalt

Let’s hit the asphalt, run it to gravel, to dirt, to the open frontierlands at the edge of the...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

Westend Bus towards Wit’s End

Westend Bus towards Wit’s End

westend bus towards wit's end

I took the westend bus towards my wit’s end, pulling through the rain and the broken lights. It’s over, the birds have gone for Halcyon South, along with the music and the dance. Here we are, it’s a chilly winter’s day, no snow all tempest and graying leaves on the faded asphalt. Kiss the sun goodbye, it’s not going to kiss you back anymore, there will just be tears on pale cheeks and rivers long gone dry, ghost towns blowing in the dusty wind.

Photo Credit

Want more? Check out some of these posts.

I met a bear today.

I met a bear today.

a short storyI  put my bags up on the conveyor belt and was reaching for my shoes when I saw him....

Prisonsong

Prisonsong

I wish I could turn that stereo up, drown out all the static from space. Schemin’ For The Masses,...

Nightlake

Nightlake

Why are we so far apart? Why don’t these tired arms sprout wings and carry me to you? SMS takes...

In This Decade

In This Decade

In this decade                                                                     because it is...

Asphalt

Asphalt

Let’s hit the asphalt, run it to gravel, to dirt, to the open frontierlands at the edge of the...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.