She Walked Out On Me

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Away, distant, Lost in the caverns of my mind.
She walks in, tears streaming down her face.
Angry, she waits until she is noticed.
Trying to climb out of the deep tunnel, the far away place, the lost sanctuary that I am stationed,
She gets frustrated and no longer can wait.
She starts yelling.
Something about how I haven’t met her needs,
That I haven’t cleaned the already grungy apartment building,
That the dog still needs to be walked.
After the long hike back from the lost world of my sub-conscious with my ripped jeans and dry mouth.
I try to reconcile with her,
I can take the dog out now! I retort
Not fully understanding that my attitude was the last straw to break the camels back.
She tells me “I’m leaving you.”
Timp Cave
(This poem I wrote made me laugh so I thought I would share it)

My Name is not Me

They called me a name when I was born,
A little human from somewhere unknown.
They called me a name while studying in school.
A person young enough to be corrupted by the cruel.
They said my name when I was in trouble or disobeying their laws.
Because I was different then they and not continuing their cause.
They called me names of hurt and destruction
All to bring me down to their level of consumption.
My name was given so that I may follow,
but I am not a person who is empty or hollow,
I will no longer kneel,
or be like a mutt and learn to heel.
Therefore I will stand and continue to be.
Wither you like it or not, my name is not me.

Sigur Rós new Song: ÍSJAKI

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Sigur Ros has a new album coming out that I am anticipating greatly. Here is the single from their new album. I hope it brings joy into your heart and soul.

(I have been slacking on my blog recently. I hope to get back to posting on a weekly basis. I also hope everyone is doing well and is happy. I have been working on a painting for several months and am excited that it is nearly finished. I can’t wait to post it and share with all of you)

Bob Dylan’s Birthday

Bob Dylan is the greatest lyricist of any generation. He is better then John Lennon, he is better then Paul Simon, he is better then anyone I’ve ever listened to. I believe this man’s birth should be a national Holiday. There is not another man who writes lyrics so simply, so perfectly, so emotionally then Bob Dylan. I say simply in context, because the man could write lyrics so complex and so meaningful that even a layman could understand them. He is one of the most important peoples rights activist who has ever lived. He has not only changed millions of peoples lives, but my own. He is a hero of mine and I look up to him for fighting for what he believes in. Happy birthday to the G.O.A.T.

Bob+Dylan

Here are some of my favorite Dylan songs. Hope you all enjoy.

Good Evening and Good Night

Fumigate, illuminate, instigate, paint.
Let your disease into the children of men.
One must wonder why all the hub bub?
Communicate.
Let’s not stop the talking,
must we incite it.
There is no blood moon and no black hole sun.
why wont the end ever come?
the hopes of thousands await their turn,
One day Atlantis will return.
When the green becomes much
and the trees begin to stretch
Little springs and rivers flow into the trench.
How much is too much?
The safety of long walks and sitting on a park bench,
One must wonder who will feed all the pigeons?

Cut us down to a different size,
Let us ignore the temperature’s rise.
Take what is wanted not what is needed.
The security of a life completed.

Let’s not stop to ask the time?
Continue to walk on bye
You’re my enemy and therefore you must die
Seems a silly way to live the lie
Cooperate, participate, and forget all the hate.
Now I have to go, really, its getting late
So long
And don’t forget to sing a joyful song
Until We Meet Again perhaps.

Indegenous Vice

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The green murky water reflects the bog and rocks.
Wouldn’t you love to come get a shock.
A treatment that no one seems to be able to unlock.
Who has the key to the mystery, is it the whispering voice of flattery?
The man in the moon he always talks to me.
I’m not talking about organized churches
Soaring birds so high they can see the tops of bridges.
Love lost, always comes at a cost.
No man plays the game, without one day pointing the blame
On himself.

Tonight there is a dark dreary melody
Tonight there is something inside of me.
Its grasping at the strings, my poor wings.
Bloodied and boiling, vehemence and vomiting,
One can recall a young man’s cliff diving,
jumping into the unknown with nothing but the wind flowing
past his head.
The thought of landing dead rushes through his thoughts
The water at the bottom is lost
wondering why his body was tossed.
Until the great flow of life comes to catch us
the cliff diver places his hands together
as he slips into a liquid lust
his fingers surrounded by the laws of life
His body tingles from the indigenous vice
Its all to much for those of us,
its all to much for those who hate us.

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

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This painting is done by: Leah Saulnier Check out her work here: http://www.paintingmaniac.com
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow–
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand–
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep–while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

(I read this tonight and felt obligated to share it. This is a beautiful poem from one of the greatest master poets ever. Edgar you are moving! I wish I could thank him for his writing.)

Walk the Line

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I was talking to a man who walked the line,
A man that was trapped by marriage, and debt.
Caged by his weight, and enslaved by processed foods.
The man woke up early in the morning, to feed the mouths of his responsibility.
He hooked himself up to a computer screen, attached the mouse and keyboard to his thumb and ring.
His life drained from his fingers into the vibrant screen.
He was yelled at for being late, he was yelled at for not making his boss’s coffee taste great,  he was yelled at for everything,
But never thanked.
All in a days work he said.

When he arrived home, his family was there to greet him among a stack of bills to pay.
His wife had already started drinking earlier in the day,
His two children, a girl and boy, the boy had a disease and the girl had a broken toy.
They ran to their father’s open arms to tell him of their problems,
But daddy was to tired from his work, drained and full of exhaustion.
They cried to him, while he sat in front of his television for an escape.
He said such is life and such is fate.

He told me that walking the line was an experience that we all must take.
We all must go through life enduring each and every experience life has to offer.
We had a few beers and I brought up my courage,

I told him, without a doubt you will experience, because experience is what life is about.
If life is about experience, then why not jump right in?
Gather it up like you would a pile of leaves, and throw your experience up in the wind.
Let the cold brisk air numb your face, and let the spring rain on your tongue just for the taste.
Open up your arms and praise the sun, as it warms your soul.
Listen to the birds sing, or watch the matador kill the bull.
Smell the lilac bush, the rose, the lilies and daffodils,
Bend down to touch the cold mountain lakes while paddling in a canoe.
Such is life, what will you do?

He only had one thing to say to me, “at least I have my ford truck with tinted windows and heated leather seats.”
I grabbed for the vodka to pour us some stronger drinks.

Driving Women Mad

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I drive women mad,
Its not a desire of mine, though I know it happens.
I met this woman the other night, she was nice,
but I hated her stories about her cat.
She wouldn’t stop talking about her bath salt, her brand new shoes, her red dress sprinkled with daisy’s.
I told her she was ugly.

Her drink was cold and the ice cut my nose.
She walked out on me, leaving me alone with the bar lights reflecting off her empty glass.
I can’t help but think about the  money I spent on her drink that covered me and dampened my clothes.

I drive women mad.

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