Weather Report

Good morning.

Today will start off with light confusion and scattered bleariness in the morning, followed by heavy footfalls.

In the afternoon doldrums and cynicism will set in for the majority of the day, with frustration increasing towards 4:00

and alcohol levels increasing dramatically as the workday end.

The evening weather has a high likelihood of take-out and cheap beer, with a 75% chance of Kraft dinner.

Minor arguments will break out later, accompanied by hurt feelings and insomnia.

Secret meetings will increase tonight, turning to widely scattered limbs and disorganized clothing.

Also tonight a steady increase in muggings, overdoses, alcohol poisoning, an suicide.

In global weather

The middle east will experience brief changes in atmospheric pressure and government, with a 50% chance of hostages.

During the afternoon tempers will flare briefly with scattered gunfire and rising body counts.

In North America morning will see a precipitation of government misdirection and human rights violations, turning to a steady rain of terror in the afternoon.

By tuesday, worldwide weather will have changed to widely scattered panic and confusion, with a 100% chance of chaos.

Goodnight.

Only Human

.

Only Human.

Teeth and claws,

blood and bones,

fur and fire

is all that remains in my dusty attic of a mind.

But I still remember.

I remember death.

I remember the ground painted red.

I remember fighting every accursed day to be human,

in my house on the hill. All alone.

The children threw rocks at me,

their parents hurried them away.

and tried to burn down my home.

But still I fought it, fought to keep what little sanity I had left,

and then it all became

too much.

The jeers,

the curses,

the attempts on my life.

All I wanted was to exist!

But a monster they wanted, and a monster they got.

It all became a blur, but

I remember,

the dead,

the wounded,

the hunters trying to kill me.

So this is what I have been turned into.

A creature who lives to destroy,

who lives to cause misery, because I do love company.

A creature harried and beaten, twisted and hated by everybody who drove me to become what I am.

So I ask you, my civilized friend:

who is the animal here?

For the ones who've found and lost

A Brief History Of Romantics

Tall trees, dead leaves, and pockets full of memories,

Are all that's left of what started with

tall trees, summer breezes, and you and me.

It always starts with a heartbeat.

A heartbeat you can feel from across the room,

a heart beating out to yours,

a heartbeat of a second that it takes to break the mirrors of doubt and say the first words.

It always continues with two heartbeats,

two hearts pumping in time with each other,

loud enough that you can't hear anything else,

and strong enough that you don't care.

And it always ends with a heartbeat.

A heartbeat all by itself,

a heart beating out the rhythm of footsteps walking away,

a heartbeat down in your feet, as you walk through all that's left:

Tall trees, dead leaves, and pockets full of memories.

Swung

All those who are patrons of music, this is for you guys.

Swung

I am. One little drummer playing to his own tune.

One little chord of dissent

jumping up and down, out of time with the rests and pauses,

one little note hopping on and off the beat,

EmPhAsIzInG EaCh WoRd A liTtLe DifFeReNt.

I ignore the score they try and make me play,

I write my own lead sheet, and improvise my own lyrics,

just to keep 'em guessing.

But to be fair I leave them clues, I write them notes that form

blues riffs,

and ragtime runs,

a staircase of paper music that collapses when they try and jam it into their 4/4 C+ prison.

I am. One little drummer, playing to his own stumblingly syncopated tune,

but,

I am. small and quiet next to the crashing, crushing crescendoes of an orchestral armada,

they try and stuff me into their dusty, joyless, four-beat, straight-laced, symphonic cell block,

they've made a musical morgue, frozen in time,

moving so fast it's run out of time, time metronoming tick-tocking tick-tock, tic-,

and then suddenly we have no time 5/4 or 6/8, no time for

swung bars or pushed notes.

A jazz-free jail, a classical closed door that has thrown away the C#- key to it's own cell

but,

No jarring, geometrical sheet music

is going to stop me from cake walking my way through life.

I've stopped paying the piper, and started to write my own songs,

I am. One little drummer

playing to his own tune.

Lonley

This fun little piece is about those times when you feel happy and lonely at the same time, and aren't sure what to think of it, but you decide to not to think about it and just enjoy the moment.

Hello Lonely

Hello lonely, my old friend,

it's good to see you again.

It's been too long since i've seen you,

but now I'm by myself, and feeling blue.

Everybody else left before I knew,

but you were there for me, so I stayed for you,

the rest of the world passes through:

there's only room in my head for two.

Hello lonely, my old friend,

it's good to see you again.

Let's sit here, you, myself, and I,

let's let our mind wander and not care why,

let's close my eyes and play I-Spy.

'Cause blues for two isn't quite as hard,

'cause two can't fall completely apart,

two can go through the razor of life

and come out with only scars.

So let's just sit here and soak up the sun,

days fly by, over before they've begun,

but for now i just want to sit here

and say 'Whoops, there goes another one'.

Hello lonely, my old friend,

it's good to see you again.

Whether you're sitting beside me,

or flowing out of my pen,

it's nice to know there's always someone,

without or within,

who can get into my head and under my skin.

Hello lonely, my old friend,

it's good to see you again.