unlived

shaping a musical moment
in the time
of which it was heard
nothing but explosions
on a string
of sonic unrest
with no one there
only those who stare
into the sky
of soot and ash
crashing down
on the intimacy
laying itself on the street

and who am I
but a flicker in the night
lighting the path
to a life left unlived

lonely day alone

another day in the way
of me coming home
dressed in tinsel and light
with no one to call my own

it's a lonely day in baghdad
a lonely day alone

music entwined
with the fears of one
in the land
of another
with nothing to call my own
but the night

it's a lonely night in baghdad
a lonely night alone

but when those wheels
touch down
and my heart unfolds
the light of my heart
will be yours to hold

but for now

it's a lonely day in baghdad
a lonely day alone

Photo Website Launched

After toying with the idea for quite sometime, I have finally launched a "real" website for my photographs. It is still a work in progress, so please be patient. To access it just click here.

Or good ol' copy and paste...

http://www.inthelikeness.com

Enjoy!

home.

Another one from the past. December 23, 2004



the candle lit view
romance for two
hard to wake up
your mindful tune
humming out loud
sitting on the city bus
driving home
or wherever you may go
to lay your soul
on angelic wings
far away
from the life
you once
called your own
now its hanging
from the ceiling
upside down
gaining new perspective
through the eyes
of the locals
who have been hanging
around for years
locality it seems
the strategy of most
put yourself
where you need to be
to embrace the
dreams and abominations
of the people
who are now
looking up to you
as you stare down
into the pit
of self pity and woe
wondering how this all happened
trying to get home...

static

Twisted up
And fucked down
Take what you have
And give what you take

This time is not ours
But emotions and motionless space

It’s a static embrace

Turning time
And distasteful sounds
Take what you will
And want what you hate

This time is not ours
But emotions and motionless space

It’s a static embrace

Static embrace.

linger.

One more blast from the past...



got your call
the day we lost
the moon
and the clouds sang out
in the night
nothing more to fear
only what isn't being said
so why wait 'til now
and it doesn't have to be this way
it doesn't have to be this way
why end it like this
when the things left unsaid
will haunt us
in the end

tears touching the
receiver
static buried in years
of anger revolving
through the door
of my thoughts
hearts left unbroken
now shattered
and torn

and it doesn't have to be this way
it doesn't have to be this way
why end it like this
when the things left unsaid
will linger
in our ears

32nd Floor

I found this looking through some old things of mine. I wrote this about a friend of mine who, let's just say, had reached a turning point in his marriage. That evening on the 32nd floor ended up being the last night he would spend with his then wife. Live and learn. Sometimes I feel that the only thing I know how to do right is to write about it. Enjoy...


Here on the 32nd floor
I can see the light shine through the door
a game of lost lovers souls
you don't want to play anymore
But my heart is on your side
it won't let these feelings die..
tonight

Too many wrongs won't make it right
no matter how hard we try
and planting a seed in your womb of doubt
won't make this love grow

But my heart is on your side
it won't let these feelings die..
tonight

Two young lovers lost in this
stuck on both sides of the fence
so before your tears start to dry
I'll be the one to say goodbye

But my heart is on your side
it won't let these feelings die..
tonight

Here on the 32nd floor
I can see the light shine through the door
a game of lost lovers souls
we won't play anymore

But my heart is on your side
it won't let these feelings die..
tonight

Here on the 32nd floor...

faded.

Another oldie that I found in an one of my many abondoned online journals. However, I re-wrote this one to fit into some new music I also wrote. Enjoy...



all I see
is a faded photograph
sun bleached
and washed away
nothing left to hold
nothing left to say

while her simple dress
hangs in the closet
of the room
where she'd sleep
its scent reminding
of another day

down the corridor
lives the resident of shame
a constant reminder of past pain

walking down the hall
I passed a memory
held fast in its frame
hanging in my mind

it happens everytime
going out of my mind
forgetting who I am
trying to be her man

coffee black.

I'm sitting in my office, it's a Wednesday afternoon. Adam Duritz is telling me that maybe this year will be better than the last, as Christmas lights are flashing, blink..blink..blinkity..blink, in the office next to me. The flashing reflections reminding me of what I am missing... of what waits for me.

I know she is there, peacefully sleeping as I write these words. Maybe she's dreaming of me, as I often dream of her.

Lately it's been raining, the water and winter chill creeping it's way into her life. Soaking her to the bone with thoughts of loneliness, as I stand on the banks of a river far away, out of arms reach.

It's never easy, never has been. Giving thanks for someone who isn't there, someone you share your heartbeat with. Yet, she wakes every morn saying a prayer of thanks for who she is and what she has.

She shuffles about her apartment not yet fully awake, needing her morning coffee.

If only I could be there to pour her a cup.

I miss her.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"A long December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last. I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving. Oh' the days go by so fast..."

ghosts of witness

ghosts of witness
passing through
the walls
absent of breath
slipping through
the glass
with no reflections
of who they are
who they should be
lonely patrons
of yesterday
mute witness
of today