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   There were those heart break thought  
  of to talk to you
     when you're really just running away
  and I know 
   that you're gone
  and you got nothing left to say

  but I'll be carrying on
  and I'll still be strong
    as strong 
  as I can
    given that you've gone away

    If I couple my hope 
  with light
    that sparkles 
  from your eyes
    Will I be able to keep hope alive
  when the lights dim low?

  And if I try to talk sense
    about the way 
that I feel
   you can't hear 
  a thing 
    at all
   anything 
    I say.


  ouuu ouuu ouuu ouuuuuuu
  ouuu ouuu
   buddah of no words
  why can't you call?

  Ouuu ouu ouuuuo oouuuuu

   oh buddah of no words
  why won't you call?

    If I had reason to doubt you
  when you told me wht you said
    maybe I couldn't convey
   that I needed you to say
   what the truth 
  of how you feel
    but if you don't feel 
   a thing
   do you say not a word
   and make me feel blue?

    But you can't make me feel
  you can only stand in the light
    and all that I see
   is what I make it in my mind
   if the truth of what I say
  is just fingers on a blackboard 
 do you always turn away
    and leave me in my funk?

  What I am to you
    is nothing I can change
  cause you hae gone away
    and I'm left here alone.


  And between the window and the wall
  where the winter wind is seeping
    the rooms got really cold
  and the blanket's not enough.

  If I'm still here in the morning
 will you come and say hello?
    or have you gone for coffee
  with someone I don't know?

   Between the ceiling and floor
  and the bedroom door
    the dust settles down
  on the dresser on the other wall.

   And there 
     is 
   nothing
   I can change
   about the way
 the Dear Lord made you.
    So I guess it's not my fault
  It's all good is what I'll say

    and if you think that you can hear me
   or if you say I'm only kidding
  then where is it I'll go
    when it obvious I'm leaving?

   And it's best that you don't know
  where I've ridden off to.
     And there's nothing left to say
   and even less to do.

  When the morning light
 comes in
   between the lampshade
  and the curtains
    does the door then open up
  and you return to me is certain?

 And I know that I am gone
   and I really must get strong
  
   But I'm not strong
      and I could be wrong
   but I think it's time now
      for moving on.
  
   No, I'm not strong
      and you say your gone
  hey its over
     so move along.

  Down that beach
    where the ship wreak is
  and the ruins of the old
      embattlements
   A thounsand starfishes had washed upon
              the shore.

     In the heat of Summer
  you don't know where they are
    but they're here in Winter
  you don't have to look very far

    Sea birds perch on the shore in the
                stinky seaweed
   to grap the living ones and eat them.

  All of these poems
    need edit or deletion
  or can't you make your project
    at least go to completion?

  If I tell yo where I am
    and you drive off to the sky
  will you stop on your way to nowhere
    even to say hi?

    some of those notes that I took about you
  seemed mean spirited if you didn't know 
             our history
 maybe better if not made public,
    left without insertion inot the
  blogternity of google giggles

  Sparkatooses,
     those doozies 
  and the preponderance of
     fluttering leaves in the late Fall
  hanging high on a tree
    and casting shadows on the fridged chairs
  that even the mid day sun doesn't make
            warm
  on account of the stiff and freezeing wind
       40 below
  how low can you
    Don't know the words
   so I'll make it upsurd

   Triangleation of polar opposite souls
  like a barge broken loose without any motors
    running towards the breach where
 the ocean is flowing towards the ruining town
   now wash down and along the estuary.

    I can see the ruins of a house,
  down there in the tide and flooding flow.

   Don't you know why I always want to find
        those high places
   that are outside the flood and flow
      of high tides
  and rushing river floods (in any season)?

   Of course you don't know
     the be-bolden poet thoughts
  of waking up to early, 
     staying up too late,
   drinking, smoking tripping too much.

  too many poems, not enough
                 heartache
    Too many beers
  not enough weeping.

  So now I see how beat and broken
   that pain has become for me.
  It wrenches my gut to say that
    I felt so wretched before.
    Even the memory of my former pain
  flashes me back . . . thanks for that.

  Oh here I am again, 
    blaming you
   for be being
     Billy Blue

  I need a day job,
   a night job
  any job
    any job
  
   I need a desk job
     a cooks job
   any job
       any job

      It could be a union job
   a government job
    any job
        any job

    It will have good pay
   and I'll work all day
   a working slob
      a working slob
 
   I'll take
      any job at all
   I'll take 
      any job at all

   (there are more verses to this old
     song that I wrote ten years ago
    and they are not here)

  Rick said he's lonely Laurie
    left him in jail for
 yelling in a bank that damn it don't
    steal from teh looser crack-mom
  people you lowlife banker-stealer, theiver
    He has rage issues
  and running away from cops
     keeps him in and out of jail
  the dope.

    Lonely weepy Laurie calls Jeff and
   says the Ciderella story of her sad
    boy is lonely step mom horrers and
  forced service and labor

    Sadtholomue at a barbaque of lies
  that they can't even know are real lies,
    heartbreak things washed into the muddy river.

   Please pray for my sad and pathetic friends
     that they may rise from the horrer of
           their fears towards the
      ever increasing life of the Love of God

  Delete me,   bleep bleep bleep bleep.

     Let these search engine utterances
   creep out of the page and into your mind.

   The dark craigs of the sheer rock face of ledge at dusk
    (in the pouring rain)
     you hanging there looking for petroglyphs
   (but the rocks been quarried, so 
                    there aren't any)

   Lost fragments of broken worlds
     you try and piece together in your
   tent in the rain with the big wind
         coming to rip it up and fling it off
             high ledges


   My hope for you:
     that you come in from the rain.

    And if you don't?
      Am I suppose to drag you inside?

  Mountain top lightening storm and
     you still camping in the rain
   like you do in a rainstorm turning to
  sleet and rain, and then frozen
    sheets of slushy cold sliding all the
       way down the Sunset Ridge Trail 
        (near Cantliever Rock)
   and you shivering in your tent near
     the mountaintop.

     Do you light a bond fire
  way up there on the mountain ledge
     to try and scare away the storm?
   Do you find a highland cave
       to hide within and stay warm?
     Do you slide back down to town
   cell phone with battery for one last call
   call me
     to come and get you
   and drop you at the shelter?

   At least he's not still in the frozen
     woods like he did all summer cause
  now he's in jail cause she got him
     arrested and she paid hundreds in
 fines for cashing checks before their time.

  Snap the finger
    snap the bubblewrap
   snap snap snap

      down on the face of your pain
  (no job)
     inside the bubble wrap thoughts
   (to put out forest fires)
       and near by those 'tallest tree
                  in the forest' 
            creations of light and love
      (to place pain in the past and
 face a brighter future)

      I can hear you and your neighsaying
   as a nagging voice that haunts me

"   Maybe be no job is what you need to
           make you move to the next place
            that you ahve to be
     Maybe you wrap yourself too hard 
           inside your bubble thoughts
                  and don't let the 
          reaction of natural human
               affection take its course
       but instead try to save it (in bubble wrap)
   but it won't be saved like that.
     Maybe the light is what is burning you
      and you need to damp it down, make it less, let the twilight come, and
    diminishing into darkness which is not a methaphor for lack (of God)."

   But if this is a methaphor 
     for lack of God, this dark,
    this lonely
      then I don't want it.

    Oh, no, little squacker,
      the separation is needed
   to let you see the difference.


    Ah, but that is hopeful.
      and you can't have that.
   see why I have to move on?

  Bummer man postings of past angst
    be deleted forever from affecting well-being
   Be gone, your rancid nacent thought spews
    and cast no more upon the world your pain
    of loss and suffereing and
       inevitability.

OK, so that was fun. Now onward and into the day. Maybe a slight explanation? You have friends who don't give you rest, won't give you hope? Neighsay your every aspiration? You have people who won't tell you what they expect, you are suppose to read their minds and they do not give you an comfort but give you that 'I accuse you' (j'accuse) finger pointing. And it bums you out. Well that has been what it was. Who is reliable? Only the Lord. So, bummer man, bummer man, get over it. (said lovingly without derision)