Tag Archives: bleak

Technicolor Hearts

it’s about to begin
soak in this spectrum
of light and sound
I sprayed my love
across your walls
in technicolor

pay no mind
to twisted faces
grinning smiles
their hollow eyes
looking, staring
right through

they’re monsters
locked away
stashed secretly
deep within
deep down
free them now

one thousand tiny
stinging paper cuts
from love letters
I couldn’t bear
to seal and send
piling ever higher

I’m so afraid
the messenger bird
shot out of the sky
a cloud of feathers
heavier than the sun
I can’t bear to witness
I can’t bear to be

I sprayed my love
across your white walls
in the technicolor
of my bleeding heart
it’s just as you imagined


Rain In The City

Lonely souls and lost spirits
Their demure faces stare longingly
At reflections in closed shop windows
And the austere sky pours down
Over tangled intersections
Made of concrete and steel

Two languishing lovers
He cradles his head in his hands
While rain drops ripple and splash
Into their tea cups, as tears
Escape the corners of his eyes
“Not like this,” he laments

Dead leaves and cigarette ends
Litter the sidewalk and gutters
She drops another and stamps it out
Blowing smoke between pursed lips
As she unfurls her umbrella
And trudges through a puddle

Lonely souls and lost spirits
Their demure faces stare longingly
Looking for something they’ve lost
These feelings won’t follow them forever
There’s solace knowing that the sun
Still shines behind storm clouds

South of Seventeen

She was just south of seventeen when they first met
He was angled against a lamp post with a coy smile
And eying her from head to toe he offered a cigarette
But he was well trained in the arts of deception and guile
Hiding his true intentions just beneath his starched collar
While she moved in closer, throwing back auburn hair
She learned just north of fifteen to do anything for a dollar
A body so young teetering on the precipice of disrepair
Against rain slicked pavement they went off arm in arm
Down the sidewalk on a path where life became oblique
It’s been years since mom and dad raised her on the farm
But nothing compared with the danger that he would seek
With a gleam in his eye they scaled stairs in the high rise
And in the room she sat him down and slipped off her dress
While just south of seventeen giving away her best prize
But as she worked she had made no plans of her own egress
The look on his eyes, the smile on his face soon disappeared
As strong hands soon grasped and choked around her neck
Just south of seventeen with what she had always feared
The price of goods when the purchaser feels they’re dreck
Flash back to another night in another rainy southern town
He was angled against a lamp post and often seldom seen
Flipping a quarter, taking his time waiting to strike down
Another girl turning tricks while just south of seventeen

Strange Night

To the girl I left there sleeping, I haven’t much to say
I threw on my overcoat, dragged myself into the day
The rain comes down from clouds that hang above
While pouring out what used to be our love
And your face ripples in every puddle I step over
While thinking back to that grassy knoll east of Dover
Back to those days when we didn’t even have to try
As brick buildings rise cold against the graying sky
To the days when you were the canary to my coal miner
I’m sat over a cup of coffee at the far end of a lonely diner
Served an overcooked breakfast and day old newspapers
Tales of the good times and bad and adventurous capers
All of those stories that we’ve been subjected to before
And all the while I’m contemplating a knock at your door
Because I left my heart at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey
While my mind was lost and my soul had sailed out to sea
Just a matter of time before this ersatz smile begins to crack
While my mind can do nothing but keep reverting back
To that strange night I spent in a stranger’s bed
And how I woke up beside her with you in my head


Climbing ever higher,
last week, bartered my soul,
to the richest buyer.

Miles from the summit,
a man with idle hands,
and insatiable wit.

Scaling above the trees,
an effortless feat, like
swinging from a trapeze.

I can’t feel my fingers,
the further up I climb,
my mind starts to linger.

This man floats above me,
to urge on my ascent,
to become what I’ll be.

With a sinister smile,
he pushes me toward,
my own miracle mile.

It’s too late to repent,
for all of my misdeeds,
or for me to repent.

Up on this mountain side,
with no soul to my name,
and evil as my guide.

I’ll get myself to the top,
filled with a sense of pride,
just to be made to drop.

The fall happens so fast,
feel the fire rushing,
up to meet me at last.

Now we’ll go up in flames,
that’s me, my soul and I,
without an heir to claim.

Except for the buyer,
with his delicate hands,
climbing ever higher.

The Fall

They set off into the night with ambition,
as fantastic wishes and devious devices,
filled their adventurous minds.

The insatiable lust of golden treasures,
hardened deep within aging arteries,
blinding glinting eyes with hope.

The songbird flying south,
towing word of good news,
far from northerner’s ears.

Then the riding messenger,
dances through the dusky fog,
of his plotted demise,

A gilded arrow was true,
tracking its cloaked target,
piercing his heart.

An entire forest grew silent,
when he collapsed from his horse,
as if felled by the wind.

His kingdom forged forward,
but little did they know,
oh, how little did they know.

Hatful of Sorrow

I’ve got myself a hatful of sorrow and loose change
Playing the blues harp, though it suffers from my range
Down at the old bus depot, keeping out of the rain
Giving each passerby the saddest eyes I can feign
Trying to muster enough funds to purchase a pass
To any destination, whether it’s coach or first class
Cos the girl I loved played a dirty trick on my heart
Now I’m going out west to give myself a kick-start

And I fish the final Lucky Strike out of my pocket
Take a nice, slow drag, I know this is what I’ll get
Have to savor the taste, before I step inside this old hotel
With a burnt out neon letter in the sign, I ring the bell
The night clerk has heard it all one hundred times before
Says check-out is ten a.m., I’ll be staying on the third floor
Now my dreams aren’t dead, they’re merely in a coma
Here in this dirty little town somewhere in Oklahoma

Out west I waste a dime inside an antiquated phone booth
To make a call back east and see what’s left of my youth
But the line rings and there ain’t nobody around to answer
Head to a club to waste a few bills on a weathered dancer
Said she came out here twenty years ago and never made it
She held the bait out there and I said, honey, I’ve got to split
Now I’ve got myself a cheap suit and my hatful of sorrow
With an aim to board the first train out of here tomorrow