Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Love songs and relevance

January 12, 2014



She made love songs relevant again. For the first time in more than 10 years.


Ours was a love story with a very defined soundtrack.


And now.


Songs that once filled me and made me float are a heavy weight tied around my ankle.


Songs I love that I can never listen to again without mourning.


But she made love songs relevant again.


And someday, I will find a new song, as relevant as the past.


Because kitchens were made for a slow dance.




An Eloquent Regret

October 25, 2013


I wish my words were stronger

I wish yours were for me

I wish you’d held on longer

And I wish I’d set you free

But wishes are just poetry

An eloquent regret

And the future is unwritten,

Another past to happen yet


We all lose.

September 29, 2013


I don’t write love songs.

The world has enough of those.

I do write about love, but only in the perspective of loss.

Because that’s universal.

We all lose.

But not everyone loves.


This isn’t you.

September 20, 2013


Ambiguous little words.

Closed to accomplice, open to interpretation.

Lost in vanity.

Vague messages on a grander scale.

Born after one passing, left in another wake altogether.

This isn’t you.

This is an altogether different song.

This is me.

And my ambiguous little words.

Often overheard, rarely understood.


Do You Remember…?

September 18, 2013


Do you remember?

How it felt?

I do.

Every inch.

Every drop of sweat.

Every scrunched eyebrow, moan, curse and scream.

I remember it all.

And I remember why it mattered.

These are but moments, rife for nostalgia.

But I remember, nonetheless.



August 24, 2013


Once upon a time, the broadcast day ended.

Once upon a time, we could sleep without talking.

Snow is just a season’s mark now.

Sleep is but a mode.

Our world.

So immersed.

So immediate.

So apparent.

Living, breathing, pulsating snapshots of a past we cannot ignore—

A present so lost in posture and presentation.

The future, merely a meme.

Moments of solace in assumption

Until our world comes back around again.

We can try to hide—

Try to pull the covers up over our head…

But we talk in our sleep.

Always there.

Always on.

Our world.

So accessible.

So obvious.

So inadvertently tragic.


I Dunno

August 14, 2013


It came on by mistake.

I thought I had deleted it.

but for the first time since,

I let it play—

I let it go.

And for the first time since,

I dunno…

I remembered how I felt the first time I heard it.


It doesn’t change a thing, because we do indeed know.

But I smiled anyway.

For the past.

I smiled for the hope.

For the chances taken.

It changes nothing.

But I smiled nonetheless.


the wolf and the rose

July 24, 2013


A rose is just a cactus sitting in disguise.

A song that wasn’t written but waiting for reprise.

Like a wolf is just a dog with bigger, sharper teeth,

a rose is just the thorns waiting underneath.


Even though we are…

May 13, 2013


We are but delicate flowers made of candy, subject to the temperament and circumstance of that which we cannot begin to understand through notion.

Through our personal commotion.


We are slaves not only to ourselves—to our personal demons, but the winged creatures that circle the head of everyone around us. We are not special.

Even though we are.



October 7, 2011


Half a tank of gas, half a roll of toilet paper.

Half his life, half the man he used to be.

Half the house, half the dogs…

Half a mind to throw in the towel,

Half the money to even buy a vowel.

Half a world away,

Perhaps the half that got away.

No better half, just half.


To be whole.

Me and Ole’ Honest Abe? We’ve Got History…

October 9, 2009


He lead our country through civil war. He is the great emancipator, and considered the greatest American President by historians.

And now, 200 years after his birth, he is a (Gothic/Americana) rock star.

In honor of Abraham Lincoln’s 200th birthday, my band, Strawfoot, has taken Lincoln’s words and turned them into a dark song about a man slowly going mad.

Lincoln was a complicated man, he fought a lot of demons. He was also a phenomenal poet.

One of his poems in particular, But Here’s an Object More of Dread really jumped out at me. It was simultaneously ominous and beautiful. It was perfect for Strawfoot.

But Here’s an Object More of Dread was written by Lincoln in 1846, upon returning to his childhood home.

In a letter to close friend, William Johnston, Lincoln wrote:

abe2abe3Included in the letter was the poem But Here’s an Object More of Dread. This being his 200th birthday, it seemed only fitting to bring his poem to life, and put it on our upcoming CD, How We Prospered.

Here it is…I hope we did it justice…the video is just a bunch of our promo shots thrown together to accompany the music…all of the band photography was taken by Marshall Gibson…He’s one of the best at what he does…

I’m no film maker…so if you can do better, please, by all means have at it…we’ll even email you the MP3…

Our CD will be available Halloween.