Someone Else's Song

I don't know how to start this song/All the beginnings have been taken/I'm the latest lovestruck lad/To decide to write a love song/But all of its been said before/All these words have been sung/Before they were original/This comes just after the last original one

You can guess at the love I feel for you/You hear it every day on the radio/And on your cds at home/I want to tell you in a way to impress/But every line I want to sing/Fall Out Boy has the copyright on/I can't put it into my own words/'Cause they were stolen out of my mouth before I even thought of them/This is someone else's song

What it comes down to/I love you very much/And I can't say it in a new way/Or one to hit the charts/'Cause this is just a teenage heartache/Loverboy's heartbreak song/But the words were wrote wrong/It's all already been said/This is someone else's song

For Every Boy...

For every boy with a whole heart
There's a girl with beauty and a gun
And for every lonely girl
There are five boys who promise to be the
Perfect one
Maybe you won't find out
Maybe I won't be found out
Love breaks hearts
Causes false starts
And can't you see what you mean to me
Can't you bear to see what's there
I hope you'll understand
When I kneel and take your hand
'Cause for every boy with a whole heart
There's a girl with beauty and a hammer
And for every girl with a broken heart
There are five boys who want to put back a part

I Know, or, Golden Deal

Think of your friends. I know you have them; everyone has friends, and no one is completely immune to the friendly bug. Now, do you have a friend with a golden deal on life? You know, someone who everything seems to right for. Like the world finds some compassion in its heart, and grants them happiness. They have their own little troubles, but they are not affected by them. They stay rays of sunshine, letting their friends and family be rewarded by their presence. These Golden Dealers are not egocentric, nor are they nasty. They are, on the contrary, unusually nice. People love to know them. But there is one funny thing about them: They are never Golden Dealers to themselves. They may recognize that they are lucky or blessed, but they don't see themselves as having a Golden Deal on life.

I know what it's like, knowing a Golden Dealer. I also know what it's like to have a bronze deal on life. But I can use alchemy, and turn my bronze to gold. If you want to too, all you have to do is become perfectly content with your life. That's both easier and harder than it sounds. Most of your life might be easy to accept, but there is bound to be something you'll have to work on. Or maybe not. You might have perfect contentment on Earth right in front of you. If you do, you are lucky. You are a veritable leprechaun, that's how lucky you are. But for all the Golden Dealers, stay sunny, and spread your sunshine around to make the world a better place. And for all you people down in the dirt; I know how you feel, and if you dig a little, you might find gold.

A Song, Not A Lament

I'd have done something before/If I'd only known/But time trudges on/And hopes flutter down/To land upon the dirt/With hardly a sound

I should've seen it coming/Should've read the signs/Understood what was being said/With those trifling words/If only, if only/I could have heard/But time trudges on/And hopes flutter down/To land upon the dirt/With hardly a sound

Maybe we'll meet again someday/In a foreign city, far away/Or maybe at the coffee shop down the street/I would give it all to heaven, should we meet/But time trudges on/And hopes flutter down/To land upon the dirt/With hardly a sound

Feeling So Good, Look Out World

It's coming on again
That flying high feeling
When the world's rolling too fast and you're falling off the edge
You know you're just setting yourself up to come down
Cause no one deserves to be that happy
And the world won't let it stand
But that one instant makes it all worth while
When you feel you can't go wrong when you know you will and you don't
And who can tell you what to do? you're king of the world
The laws of physics were made to be broken
All these words were made to be spoken
Now just to pick between all these one true loves
Dark eyed crows and white doves
They say just wing it, mine aren't ready yet
But the edge is coming up
Gotta pick, might be sick
But who can stop me?
I'm king of the world

I'd Make You A Sandwich

• Don't be afraid of anything I say
• I wouldn't want you to feel that way
• I'm almost a stranger, I'm a strange friend
• One who never wants our friendship to end
• Oh, I think you're lonely, I hope you are
• Cause that's the only way I'll get to you

• Crying at night, I think I hear you crying too
• Or is it the sound of the wind in the trees
• Oh wind, carry her words to me
• Be our messager, give us the air to speak

• But maybe you don't want me
• Maybe I'm not what you want from life
• Well then, tell me what it is so I can find it for you
• I would get you gold, jewels, anything you choose
• I'd make you a sandwich, make you a world
• Make the heavens tumble down
• What would you have me do?
• I think that it'd be too much to hope for
• For you to ask me to love you
  

Dead Poets Society

Last night I watched the movie "The Dead Poets Society" for the first time. Amazing. It is a very powerful movie. It didn't carry a message that was super clear, that anyone who just happened to watch the movie could see. The message required you to discover what it was, and you can only do that if you tap into the poet inside you. It's there, you just have to find it.

One of the messages in the movie is the fact that almost all men and boys have poets inside them. It's just that the poet usually gets pushed away. But he is there. Men make themselves into something other than what they should be. They should be poets, lovers, dreamers and romantics. They should look beyond their physical selves and appreciate the creative genius inside themselves. Inside each teenage boy, fueled by passion and every other emotion it's possible to have, lurks a maker of worlds, a charmer of women, a painter of beautiful paintings. Someone who dreams, and carries those dreams into the "real" world. Inside the boy who runs by himself on the football field; he has one of the most influential novels ever written, a bible of emotional rather than spiritual revelations. The middle aged man who works hard every day to support his family; he holds poems inside that could bring he and his wife back to the days when they were young and courted by the schoolyard wall. Why does this happen? This wasting of talent for the sake of "being a man." Wouldn't a real man be tapping into the revelations inside him? Or would he blindly turn away from that to a dumb, silent reactionary world? Why? Why do they sacrifice their poets for the chance to be a crude brute?

Little Girl With The Dusky Eyes

Hey little girl/With the dusky eyes/Holding inside her secret surprise/Hey little girl/Your innocence blinds/Hold it, keep it, deep inside/As you grow and start to know/Of all the dark and terror/Don't forget the little girl inside/Who watched the world with dusky eyes

Old Tales

Snow falls down onto the city
Silencing our "advanced" society
Hushing the cars and the noise
The city falls asleep
Inside homes, some old fathers
And mothers turn out the lights
And tell tales that their grandparents told them
Who heard it from their grandparents who heard it from theirs
Going back until the tales were born in far off lands
In the bitter grip of winter
When legends were told for the first time
By the ones who saw them themselves
The elves walking through the snow
While the wind blows and shadows move
Across the snow
Creeping out of corners into the hearts of their people
The superstitious ones, the tale tellers
The ones who ruin our children
Who fill their heads with nonesense
But the children listen to the tales
And then they leave; one there, two there
Until only a few are left
These last few are the talelisteners
The dreamers unconfined by science
And laws made by it
They know that in the winter science dies
And they listen to the oldest tales
While their parents shudder from behind the door
Then the dreamers, the tale believers go out into the snow
To look for elves and unknown things
That lurk in winter's darkness
The dreams flee them just beyond their sight
I hear them outside my window
For I'm a taleteller, a superstitious one
And magic is real in the heart of winter
And in the hearts of the dreamers

Would The Man In The Back Please Stand Up, or, Yo, What's Up?

Ever notice how there are always people in the back? At anything from, say, a rock concert to a seminar on how to chop wood, there is always a back row. Same thing with peace and equality. Everyone is not on the same level. In a world where everything is happy and peaceful, and everyone is equally important and given the same rights, there will always be a secret percent of the population that will be downtrodden and controlled. It's human nature: you stand taller if you're standing on someone else. Slavery and servitude will never be gone, but they can be pushed away for while. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep over the condition of the world? Well, stop it. What does the world care for a single person's tears. They are non existent. A better way to spend your time would be to try and change the world. But the inertia of Homo Sapiens is impressive. A better strategy for changing it would be walking along with it in a slight curve, rather than trying to make it go backwards. A slight curve will bring you where you want to be sooner or later. But back to the man in the back. He's sitting there, listening to the music and learning how to chop wood. He wants to be in the limelight, but, he's at the back. No chance for him to be in front. When suddenly he sees the rockstar/lumberjack gesture at him, and seems to hear him say "Hey, man in the back! Get up here!" He slowly trods up to the stage and climbs on. And he can't believe it when the rockerjack says to him, "So, what's up?"

You might not know, and I sure don't

You don't know what it's like
To be taken down by someone who should've lifted you up
Well neither do I
And you've never had a messy breakup that's screwed you up for years
Well I can't talk, and I can't tell you what it's like
To mess up your chance at happiness
Or be embedded in a dead-end relationship that won't give you room to turn around
Cause I've never had any of those happen to me
I've been standing on the sidelines
Off of center stage
Watching from the hallway
Dodging the love and rage
Maybe I should step in
I could pick up the beat pretty quick
But a dancer needs a partner
And I haven't found one yet

Follow The Piper

Can you hear that sweetly singing song
Beware, tis the piper
If a tall thin man comes strolling along
Beware, tis the piper
With his checked coat and his ancient flute
He plays a song so sweetly
But do not listen, do not stop
For he can make your will to drop
He'll lead you blindly on into the unknown
If you do this it's doubtful you will return home
Not to demonize him, no
He just goes where he wants to go
Playing for his own amusement- Lo!
I hear a flute, I must go

The Ever-successful Enterprizes Of The Enemies Of Edna, or, Life Sunny Side Up

In leading your life, you occasionally make mistakes. Like every other minute, for example. The mistake that is easiest to make on a blog is, NOT SHOWING THE REAL YOU! I yelled that just to show how important it is. When you record your personality onto another medium besides your mind, you invariably focus on one aspect of it. Most often you dwell on the negative. Many people use blogs to unburden themselves of bad things that happened to them during that day. Feeling satesfied with that, they don't bother to record their happy moments. That can mislead people to a dangerous extent. If you have a "miserable" blog, be sure to include some of the happy things in your life, so then you will save the rest of us some worry. Hm, I feel a poem coming on

Life in real life is a mixture most lovely
Full of sunshine, rainy days and alliteration
But on the internet it becomes a tragic play
That threatens to end itself each day
To paint a clearer picture
Erase some of the blur
Make your sunshine brighter on your blog
Ensure that the rainclouds don't wallow like hogs
That wasn't a good rhyme, but look I'm not sad!
I can transpose it all, the good and the bad

So Sad And Lonely, or, Poor Little Person

Today I was thinking about a certain percent of the population. It belongs to no particular race, or gender. It covers all types of people. It's the sad and lonely people. You know, the kind that gives off the illusion of being happy, but if you happen to catch them by themselves, they always have a sad face on. They may be physically attractive, have great personalities, and be the kind of person who everyone likes. But inside they are gloomy, because they are all by themselves. Something is missing from them. In some of them it is the inability to form romantic relationships, in others they can't go beyond a superficial friendship. They long for companionship, but don't know how to vocalize their longings. If they aren't broken beyond repair in their younger years, (read teenage) they grow up to be the "lone wolf" type of person. Strong seeming, not liable to sharing their feelings, often involved in artistic things. They can be poets, rockers, painters, anything that will allow them to shunt their longings and emotions into another place. Or they just come crashing down, to fall off center stage and into the background. Someone who is known by many people, but plays a part in no life but theirs. They can be so sad and lonely, those poor little people.

HAHAHAH- Not Funny

Today I started a new blog, to contain all of my funny that never makes it onto this one. You can find it at its uniform resource locator. Go ahead, see if you can find it. I dare you.

(p.s.) I will continue to update this blog. I still love it. And I will keep it going for hopefully years to come.

When Will It Be Me?

The eternal question I can never ask
When will it be me?
When will the clouds be brushed away
Would you love me?
The desperate question I so want to ask
Which makes me fall in fear
Do you love me? could you love me?
Is what I want to ask
I could love you, I would love you
But someone would need to ask
I'd put your name into this line
And wait for love to bloom
But I can't do that, no I can't
I don't know if your heart has room
For a poor lonely soul like I
I know I should ask
But your "no" would make me cry
Or, perhaps, die.

So, A Funny Thing Happened On The Flight Into Town...

I have an announcement to make. I've switched to the Beta Blogger! I made the change after I realized I was an hour late to a friends house, and when I called to say I was coming, he was just going out the door. I was really bored after that, so I decided to upgrade my blog. And I like it! Lot'sa new features, and just... nicer. So, yeah, there ya go. Just wanted to tell my loyal friends why everything suddenly turned blue... Reassure them that, no, it's not the water.

I can calm your fear

Little lady
Pretty baby
You say you're afraid of the night
Well, I can calm your fear
I've spent many nights out in the cold
And baby there's nothing out there
Nothing that I would let touch you anyway
Little lady
Pretty baby
You say you're afraid of war
Well, I've fired guns and bathed in blood
To keep it away from here
And I can calm your fear
Little lady
Pretty baby
You say you're afraid of death
Well, I've died every night with my heart froze tight
For a love that isn't here
And little lady
Pretty baby
I'd love to calm your fear

On Relationships Between People or Why You Gotta Be So $#$% Mean?

Something I've noticed over time is the tendency of people to conceal their feelings toward other people. Deception is part of the recipe in almost every relationship, from coworkers, to children and their parents, to close friends. Maybe you hide the fact that your friend sets you on edge with that strange noise he makes when he's about to say something. Or you have to conceal the fact that you're strongly attracted to your coworker. I'm not standing apart from this; in fact, I would say I deceive everyone I know, in the sense that none of them, to my knowledge know exactly what I think about them. You usually try not to let someone see you, the totally real, core you. The person you are to yourself, deep down inside yourself. You don't show this person the real you, because, after all, you don't know the real person. Unfortunately, the other person uses the same logic. This ends up with all the signals getting corrupted, and everyone getting confused. You might ask someone, "Why you gotta be so #%#% mean?" when that person is desperately in love with you. You might also be entranced with someone, but for some reason or another you can't tell him or her. Deception is chaos, and also really, really hard to give up. How to fix the situation, that's the problem...

On Sleep And The Time Preceding It or Yaaaaaawn

Last night I was about to go to sleep, when I started thinking about it. When you think about it, the time immediately before you fall asleep is pretty unique. It's when you are sleepy enough to think about all the things you were too busy to think about during the day. Fears and doubts come rushing in, all your private worries. But then the happy moments slip in, far too few, but comforting all the same. You think about your failures, and your successes. Then, as you look out the window, you see the stars, and think about who is the light in your life. You think of your hopes, of what you could be if given the chance. Wondering about your life. Wondering about other peoples lives. Wondering if a certain someone is thinking of you, and realizing that, no, she's not. She's thinking of someone else, but you know why. Oh well, you sigh to yourself, and turn to something else. You start to ponder something else, and then- You fall asleep.