Footprintin'

And let the blues become a soundtrack
That another lonesome boy steps to
And let my ideas become a path
That we will one day walk through
And on the other side see its footprints

And let unfinished lyrics remain hidden
In the "Rubber Factory" album
And one day someone will find 'em
And they can sell 'em
Under my breath
I'll always be whisperin'

And let feet keep stompin'
So neighbor's ceilings start shakin'
And they start actin'
Actin' like they mad
But can't help nod their head
Because the rhythm-beat's so intriguing
And let their neighbors become angry
And let me keep repeatin' - "and let"
So the audience gets so annoyed
They start repeatin'
Like them on radio rotation
And let me be patient
But not your patient
For I'm the one supposedly deliverin' the medicine
And let Kevin Bacon become the symbol - we are one?
Or don't
And let an overanalyzed artist's toilet become a monument
Or don't
If you want to be that way
And let a lyric be placed out of place
For a metaphor for what we've all felt before

And let the blues become a soundtrack
That another lonesome boy steps to
And let my ideas become a path
That we will one day walk through
And on the other side see its footprints...

And let us continue travelin' across this track
Music that'll intoxicate you
But to reality it'll shoot you back
And when it's time to snap back
Music will be used as a supplement for what we lack
Like a perception of what it must of been like to grow up on another side of a track
And let this be -
A footprint to your ear
So you know that we were here
And let songs be documentation
That we were a part of building this nation
That we were a part of creatin' what this present generation's facin'
And let a man just sing his song
And on and on and on and on...

And let the dust!
Be blown off old records
So there will be records of the troubadours
And let the youth judge that static
But one will more than just reinterpret
And to the artform
Add another form
And let these words
Be as they should be
And that is not to be for naught
But they may never be to quote
For the - a - creator never spoke
And let the first ones to find 'em
Try to recite 'em
They stutter, they choke
Arrive, not gain a damn penny
Yet - um - leave less broke
And let me bang on this instrument
Until destiny is infinite
And let me always keep these lyrics in my pocket
For when reality snaps out its socket
I just reach in
And, well, I'm back again
And let 'em play a harmonica
Like a freakin' train screechin' to a hault
But his breathe doesn't supply enough friction
To stop the reality of what he's livin'
The clock - it's continuin' on, it's tickin'
And let us believe everything happens for a reason
Even though you can't comprehend the present state you're breathin'
Inhalin' this mist of stagnation
Becomin' paralyzed by indecision

And let 'em think of death when writin'
But live to see future generations recite 'em

And let your vision of your past
Become more visable from the now youthful laugh
He smiles and reminds you of yourself

And let the judged judge those that judged
And now I'm glad everything's resolved
And let those who believe, believe
And when their gates open they can breathe
And let me believe that I don't have to believe
Words can't express
Because I've got only one string left
And I'm gonna recite with every breath 'til I ain't got nothing left

And let me continue searchin'
For I'm searchin' for a voice
And maybe this is the platform I can place it upon
And if there is an empty stage across this land
Then I shall travel on
And at a later date
You'll hear about the journey
As I sing in song

And let these words no longer be stranded thoughts
But become nothing more than strands of thought

And let a mother cook a daughter
A home cooked meal
When she comes home from war

And let Armegeddon already be done and gone
And the only thing that's left
Is an ol' record player
And out its speaker
A man's singin' his song -
"This land is your land"
And let a man just sing his song
And on and on and on and on

And let the unrested mind keep joggin'
Yet its throbbin'
And let the party participants keep dwindlin'
But the conversation continues into mornin'
And let the song be written
As the sun is creepin' into view
And let me not leave
Until I leave...
And let me not leave
Until I leave
This audience struck
Like oh remember
Oh remember
When Michael J. Fox played Chuck.

The Book of Just the In-Between Lines

For if I could just find a simple tune
Maybe I’ll find that direction home soon
Maybe if I keep strummin’
Maybe I’ll find somethin’
For I’m not the white Bill Cosby
But I do wanna be somebody
Maybe if I keep strummin’
Maybe I’ll find myself on the “Road to Rocknroll”
Like Joe Strummer
Not likely
But a young mind can wonder
And so I wonder
And so I wonder
And so I wonder
Inhaling this world we live in – through observation
Exhaling through poetry
It has nothing to do with you getting to know or notice me
Because I’ve known myself for 20 plus years now
And just noticed my complexity
Oh geez
Maybe one day I’ll be sober with my insanity
All bound to go crazy
Searchin’ for our great discovery
Like John Nash
Oh where oh where can such be found in this Hocus Pocus land?
If Scorsese can’t show you through a lens
If the latest best-selling John Grisham book can’t show you through his pen
Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places
Ask a friend
It doesn’t matter how many listens
Hendrix can’t bend the rhythm of what you’re livin’
Check the Highlights
Maybe it’s hidden
Because I’ve looked in the books
The lines
All and in-between
But I can’t seem to find what I’m lookin’ for
But music keeps knockin’
And it’s a-knockin’
And it's a-knockin'
And a-knockin’
And a
I think it’s time to open up this door…
And so I ask for...
For was John Lennon singing the soundtrack to my life
when he'd recite - "Who am I supposed to be?"
Now we have this degree
We want to be free
Some got so high on higher education
And now don't know how to just simply be
Well, obviously
So obvious I had to state it was obvious
Why is obvious even a word
If it is, then it just is
Well, obviously
I don't have the answers for me
And, Mr. Lennon certainly doesn't have all the answers for me
But, one thing I do know is
That, I've got this music inside of me
That's creatin' a riot within me
I've got an insecurity that sets my self-esteem on fire
So, I'm gonna continue placing Lennon's words through the wire
Like Cobain's -
"To put out the blowtorch".

Silence,
There is no such thing
The quieter you try to be
The louder your surroundings get
The fridge,
Humming like it’s constantly burping
And laughing at your stagnation
The toilet,
With its stubbornness to never flush correctly
Is whaling its sound
Like a more peacefully drawn out scratching of the blackboard
Which in my prose poses the question -
What’s more torturous?
The immediate turmoil
Or years and years of nagging erosion to the shoreline of your soul…

…he talked about books like some talk about wine and I just ain’t got the time…

…I wanna laugh without the repercussions
Play like there is no time
And of course, we can’t suspend time
But we did back then
And the only thing keeping me going
Is the hope we will again…

…And in the end
I think all we really learn and know
Is that time passes
And we need to keep our feet on the gasses...

Cliche

When walking the city streets
You catch a glimpse of your reflection
Off a store window
Yeah, you feel cliché
Concluding in your mind that -
Yes, this is exactly how I planned on looking at this young age
It is your prime
Your smile shine from the sarcasm
Proceeded by the realization
You can’t afford what’s beyond your reflection
And you’re no longer laughing
Continuing your walking
That is in no particular direction
To only change your step
Because of the poverty lying
Next to the luxury clothing store
And somehow because of other’s lesser situation
Your facial expression’s restored
Not to confidence, but more so it’s monotone
Like you’re bored
But you’re no longer adolescent
And recently you’ve realized
That’s the only time when you have time to be bored
You wish you could afford some of that
Rather than that sweater that was on that rack
That was beyond your reflection
And yes, you have changed your perception
As you reflected that the once needed sweater –
With the horse
When taken out of the store and stored in your own closet
Well, it ain’t that needed anymore
So you ask what else does this life have in store
Keep walking and learn some more
Keep walking and learn some more

(short pause)…

Go to school
Learn the golden rule
Forget it the day after graduation
You should have learned patience
But didn’t
And now all you feel is -
The constant act of being on the run
You want to be like those writers
That make your mind run
But don’t know they’re always
“In the constant act of becoming” -
Vonnegut
And you don’t just want something, no
You still want everything under the sun
But sometimes it gets cold
And you don’t know your role
And all they can give you as advice is to -
Just keep rolling
So you tell yourself to
Just keep writing
And reading
And maybe it’ll add up to that arithmetic
If that’s what you’re after anyways
Spending many days in this haze
Just to make it sound inspiring, it’s a poetic phase
Leading you to the man
If he asks you, “How does it feel?”
You keep quiet, you keep it concealed
Everyone running ‘round trying to keep real
When if it’s happening - it’s oh too real
Talk is cheap
And people will pay millions to let mouths run
Just don’t let the chatter make you run from
Whatever it is you’re chasing
And question whether what you’re chasing is real
Sooner, but more likely later
It will be revealed
Clocks stole hours away as you wondered
What could have been
You’re guilty of thy sin whether or not in thy religious bin
Hindering your within
It’s known that it’s within you
From your mother to friend
To the stranger lying back then
It’s the places our minds are in
Nobody knows how to deal with the questioning
But all have ideas
Fears - keeping you from pursuing
Not ruining life, but also not truly living life
There is so much more you could be giving this world
But - but you just don’t know

(short pause)

I just don’t know
All this stuff that makes life rough
It feels like it’s shoved in your face
No matter where you go you feel liked your chased
Don’t look in the mirror as much anymore
You don’t recognize the face
Did you waste that day
That too fast became yesterday
Should you stay for one more drink
When on the brink of something
But, but you feel it slipping
You just can’t poeticize the description
Can you poeticize a prescription?
There certainly ain’t no doctor that can prescribe a prescription
That will get me back to the days of living
And neither will that sweater
And I know that was beyond your reflection
Until now
Find time to afford this.

Hey, Mr. Dylan...
A...hey, Mr. Dylan...
No...a...I don't need an autograph
But I wouldn't mind sharing a laugh
Imagine that
Making him laugh
I'd put that on my resume
Above my GPA...
And the influence of Dylan becomes osmosis
And from Robert Johnson to John Anthony Gillis
become the bookends of my musical collection
And this
Well this
This is the greatest song ever written
Since Bob Dylan wrote "Like A Rolling Stone"
However, that is the past
Let us move on
It's "Blowing in the Wind"
So I try to breathe peacefully
While some say I speak cynically
I promise I'll live respectively
So clap with me
Because this is music
So write with me
Because this is reality...


--

- How many times do I have to say
that I know that you know
in order for both of us to know
that both of us don't know...
...and, on we row...or don't...

--

- Take a picture of me
as I look away
and then look back
with an expression like maybe
you don't know, but I know
what is fact
And, just because
I may lack the skills
to articulate thus
Doesn't mean that
the truth isn't such...

Resonate

All I want is the unknown
It will reveal itself in due time
I can’t wait
But apparently I can
Because I have to
And that is how we all grew
It all traces back to that music
And its continuous footprints
That have been followed
And will be followed by generations to come
And so
The street performers will continue to play the walking tune
As passerbys hum yet run to wherever they’d get to anyways if they’d walked
And this is what I’m presently learning
And this is what I’m presently learning…
But not living
I mean man, it's already 1:25
And I still don't feel alive
I've spent all day drinking coffee
And listening to musicians tell me what life has to offer me
Let's take the R-Train uptown
And see if any of this is true
No man, I've gotta stay inside and document this for you
Maybe one day I'll step afoot the outstide like a few
And there is a few
Well, there is a collage of artists I do admire
But will they inspire?
Because something tell someone
That true inspiration will only come from ones own creation
I guess that's why so many are inspired by their own children
But in the present
I'm just sittin', drinkin', thinkin'
Sittin' and drinkin' this too much thinkin'
When am I gonna get back to livin'?
But in the present
I'm here - all alone
And all I hear - is the whispers of momma sayin'-
"Please come home
I, I love you so"
And, so
I'm sittin' here
Starin' 'round at a room filled with nothings
Well, I do have a bookshelf filled with plastic borders of Rock-n-Roll
The latest technology that can't exemplify that same-n-soul
Old trees that used to provide the oxygen are now written on
And I thought the scripture was supposed to be reveal-n-my-role
But no,
They don't fill that inner hole
Like plaster can
To that wall one by the door
That nobody seems to come or go through - these days...
But anyways
I met a songwriter today
And he was giving off vibes of someone that has something to say
I met a songwriter today
And for today
He uses his writing like others pray
And so, I say -
Pray on, write on, and live on
Because as long as you remain a writer today
You'll remain a fighter for the tomorrow
But before tomorrow creeps in
The feeling usually creeps in
When it's time to go to bed
Because what was meant to be done
Well, the songs were never sung
The books never read
As instead, I fed myself with wishful thinking
Thinking what I was writing was on the brink
And then the thinking dimmed the bright day to a dark night
And it's hard
Oh so hard
To sleep on this tonight
Because I've got something to say
But today just couldn't force the toungue
And it's getting harder to breath
As I can feel my lung starving to be rung
And living a dream unsung
Will leave a heart broken
And eventually leave it not tickin'
And boy do we love that deafening sound
And dreams
Well, dreams will tear you apart with fear
Because the thought of them coming true is never clear
But dreams
Dreams will pull you up at the most pathetic hour
Ain't another thing is this world that can help one devour this kind of sorrow
It's funny - when entertaining this
We have other's to borrow
And so, until tomorrow
Let my words resonate in your soul like Rock's 'Tussin
And let a poet tell you one last something -
I don't want my words fading away in song to be the memories of me
I want my smiling face to be placed inside your head
When you're trying to fall asleep late at night in bed
And now you're smiling
And my words fade
Like your presence for today
As you slip away into dreams until the sun rises
And I don't want the last song on the album to be my death letter
But if it is
To all those sick in your own night
I hope you feel better
So turn off this song and put on your own sweater
Or whatever makes you warm
Maybe this song does, so to turn it back on
And sing-along
And remember -
Pray on, write on and live long
Because we have all traveled along ways away to get here
And now that we are here
It's not the way we thought it would be
I guess we haven't arrived yet
Or that this is - just the way it is
Making us intoxicated by nostalgia
With everyday wishes
Wishing we were still kids
Becoming adults
Wishing our dreams away
And now tomorrow is today
And so, will I finally say?
Well, we will see
And then the songwriter said to me -
Hearts are red
Veins are blue
I hit both when I speak through
And my words
Well, my words -
They will leave you in a mind state that's nostalgic
Like a lyric hovering over an acoustic
And my words
Well, my words -
They will make you laugh so hard you will cry
My words, they will make you cry so hard you will laugh
And while you're off doing that
I'm gonna listen to the music until I go deaf
And after that
You can tell me what's left
To live for.

Writing is dreaming,
Dreaming is writing,
Insomnia isn't sleeping,
So in order for an insomniac to dream,
He must write...

comfort isn't always stagnation, sometimes it's just Dockers slacks...

Soul on the Ground

Recorder on
Face to the corner
Hat on the floor
Guitar strapped 'round
Suit wrinkled
Cigarette lit
Just had that numbered course meal
But in my stomach I feel an empty pit
Yeah, that hat
It lays upon the ground
Coverin' my soul
They won't understand this sound
But Ima gonna rock-this-role
I guess as the story's told
The story's sold
There's a price for true freedom
And ain't a soul alive not paying its toll.

I need an endless supply of pillows, one for each of my thoughts...to take a nap on...

I'll care when the song stops...but I'm in the zone the second the needle drops...I'll care when the casket locks.

Every Time I Write

I want to write
And I want to write like there is no end
But because I know there is an end
I want to write so I can lend my friend - some knowledge
And in return he can lend me some of his
I want to write so we can live this
And the result is our kids being better off
I want to write so we respect the musician
And their music we bought
I want to write to ignite an original thought
Maybe something I have never contemplated before
I want to write so I can write more
Along the way there will be some more wants and maybes
And I know this music is not going to save me
Yet I savor the time I spend to write a rhyme
Maybe it will teach me
I want to write so the subject matter matters
I want to write for emotions like sad, happy, pissed off or cause laughter
I want to write another chapter and predict my future
I want to write not to preach
But tutor to stop the stagnation of neutered minds
I want to write not to undermine those who lived the life of crimes
But to stop future crimes
I want to write the sign of the times
And make them brighter
I write not to find her
Because it will come naturally
I write to capture the meaning of life
My life, my future
I choose to write
I want to write to paint a bright picture
Worth more than a thousand words but actions
Sent into your heart instead of your eyes
I write with no disguise
This is how I feel
I write to deal with the frustrations of growing up
I write what’s up, what brings us down, and what keeps evolution
I want to write to stop pollution of environment and soul
I want to write without races to see everyone as a whole
I want to write so much
But I have to pace
Because my heart feels like it’s in a race
I know you feel it in the base of my voice
I love writing
And it was completely my choice to take time and write this rhyme
I’ll write to climb the hill to the mountain of my potential
Wanting to write these is the writing credential
Write for a reason
Call your writing the age of reason
Write to escape the treason of yourself
For yourself and your family
I write
Not to impress
But to leave impressions
Writing might be an obsession
But with an objective to learn a lesson and testing my skills
While too many others gain thrills from materialistic things and drugs like pills
So their future never reaches the mountain of their potential
At the blink of an eye self-esteem falls down hills
I don’t want to write the tales about those who fail
Who go to jail
And the only bail out of this misery
Is suicide dead or alive
You in the past like history
Instead, I want to write and make history
Yet I know this generation isn’t going to read me
And even if played they still won’t listen or understand me
But I’ll keep writing and make sure my friends and family feel me
Because I do feel them
Every time I write.


...(eh, maybe my generation would understand me)...

...I'm slowly returnin'...
...The tortoise's patience is burnin'...

...and...

...I can see life creepin' back into my face...
...And one day you'll see it bleed through this pen...
...And so,
...What shall we do between now and then?...

...I really don't know what else to say...
...I've said all that can be said...
...I've written all my ideas down in journals
that nobody will have read...
...The glory will come in the afterlife, they said...
...And people will recognize your work when you're dead...
...That's not what I wanted to write...
...Then again...
...That's not what you wish you had lived...
...And that's not what I wish I had reread...
...But it's the present thought-dreams
going through my head...
...Hitting this page for me to countlessly re-recite...
...It's time to put this one to bed...
...You recite it
as your kid falls asleep...
...Just because dinner finished hours ago
doesn't mean one can't continue to be fed...
...Feed me your compliments, under the gas
when I'm on my death bed...
...And that'll be the day
my mind 's no longer on the run...
...Unloading that dumptruck

filled with forgotten dreams...
...Leaving today's frost for today's cold ground...
...Burning under another day's sun...
...And that'll be the hymn I hum
as I walk yet run...
...Racing to my old, erasing my young...

...And so I ask for...
...For was John Lennon singing the soundtrack to my life
when he'd recite - "Who am I supposed to be?"...
...Now we have this degree...
...We want to be free...
...Some got so high on higher education...
...And now don't know how to just simply be...
...Well, obviously...
...So obvious I had to state it was obvious...
...Why is obvious even a word...
...If it is, then it just is...
...Well, obviously...
...I don't have the answers for me...
...And, Mr. Lennon certainly doesn't have all the answers for me...
...But, one thing I do know is...
...That, I've got this music inside of me...
...That's creatin' a riot within me...
...I've got an insecurity that sets my self-esteem on fire...
...So, I'm gonna continue placing Lennon's words through the wire...
...Like Cobain's -
..."To put out the blowtorch"...

...the day I become free...

...is the day I don't have to comb my hair...

...is that the day I lose it all...
...or the day I just forget to care...

...I'm a ghost of my former self...
...I hear people say my full name
and don't respond right away...
...Or maybe, it's like my ambitions...
...My response is on delay...
...But it will come to fruition someday...
...They won't?...
...Well, maybe that line wasn't written this time
for the purpose of gaining a quote...
...I'm not really sure about any of the answers,
ask my ghost...
...As others put down their drinks,
I'm just discovering thee toast...
...I don't need the other's commentary...
...I've provided it myself...
...Criticizing, a self kind of roast...
...I am a ghost
of my former self...

...Ideas we admire...
...Thinkin' they inspire...
...As we sit there staring holes in walls...
...Thinkin' we stand tall
and one day we'll be the ones to do the inspiring...
...On occasion thinkin' our brains need rewiring...
...But still continue mouthin' the words...
...The next minute's existence forgotten...
...Pretending to be the one singing...
...Starin'...
...And losing yourself...
...Forgetting about the inspiring...
...But do so, unintentionally...
...Like the singer did so...
...That you pretended to be...
...In the first place...
...Now place your delusion upon this recorder...

...And this...

...They're playing while you're working...
...They think you've been playing while they've been working...
...And this may lead to a relation not working...
...Your explanation at present isn't working...
...Maybe take some time off from it...
...Take a breath, a break, a hit, a shot...
...Whatever that enables you to unlock a "proper" explanation...
...Nobody is truly looking for inspiration...
...Just an explanation for the reason you are the way you are...
...And so far, you haven't presented it properly
or well enough in your presentation...
...Why keep people waiting?...
...Stop playing...
...While everyone is working...
...Oh it's oh so beautiful when this playing starts working...
...And that's the explanation I'm giving...

...a work in progress...just like you are...

...And I hope we meet, the day before tomorrow...

...Background music for your sorrows...

...Coasters for your coffee or maybe alcoholic beverages...
...Topic of a circled conversation...
...Ain't nobody really saying anything...
...Distraction for what you don't want to be facing...
...Adding to the adage, a pillage of racing thoughts unneeded
and can't keep up this mileage...
...Yet slows your roll
and can redefine what you thought to be your role...
...Providing a new beat to your stroll
as you walk down the street in brand news
but feel you have a hole in your soul, sole...
...Am I talking about his physical album, his music
or just the thought of?...
...And I hope we meet,
the day before tomorrow...

Looking into an empty room
I like seeing instruments just sitting there
And wonder about the possibilities
that can be put into the air
I too, like looking at still-photographs
of an artist just sitting
I know she's thinking of what the future's going to be bringing
And what about the moment of silence
before one starts singing
That moment of conception or creation
Put a pen to pad
And whatever's jotted is foreverlasting
Can leave us crying, balling
tears running
or laughing
Not thinking about it
But the next moment could be crashing
Things aren't in the process of
Or we don't notice the process, "stopping"
Things just.