Verve

Anyone who knows me knows I love lyricist Brian Vander Ark. Look him up, or look up his song lyrics, they’re poetry, no doubt. His lyrics are brushes on a painting I may never quite achieve, but here’s what I can share, and what I’ve learned. Thanks for indulging my best effort- Tim

Some days are worse than others, some better,
this, the former, a past lover, the last hair washed from pillows,
the one next to yours, I’ll keep it like souvenirs.
Listening to Verve Pipe and Brian claims the hail, unlike the rain, “another year could not disdain”.
This year as ominous as a lateral move, past remnants, clogged drains.
I have nothing left to prove, make me whole once again.

This will all make sense one day. This may not make sense either way.
The goldfish pays no mind. He’s good in the bowl, with the masses outside crying to be heard.

Preferred in my freshman years, I held two girls at a time, never knowing any long-term plan.
I declared to you in my fit of rage, you were lost, only I could be saved.
I was a villain underneath, so sweet, until a spoonful of sugar made me obese. Superficial thoughts and metaphors,
the inflation of a 19-year old’s fragile ego.

So much for this, happiness is, wherever you find it.

The veneer in your hardened shell, I could feel,
until you set me as a picture in a photograph.

Your word as good as mine, to conceal, only I’ll have the last laugh.

Ride

Clearing the channel, another one’s on their way.
Pulled up in my new ride, different from the one yesterday.
I’m happy to oblige, I cant hide out in the garage
there too much scenery to partake.
The sweet chassis, the chrome, the wheels
Sidewalks, chasing long legs, tall tales, high heels.
Sell me more then my book value worth.
New models off the assembly line,
to the highway, cars in motion, back and forth.
I’m fine, the blacktop flying by.
Another car salesman lie,
Pedal to the floor, open road, forever sky.
As long as there’s gas,
this won’t be my last ride.

When Our Ship Sailed Off

Thanks for the push off shore,
delight of the sky,
cackling ashen clouds
the distance that Columbus wrought,
on tired sea legs,
where he rotted
from the inside- the chosen few.
I knew what it felt like–
He never found what he planned out too.
So imagine our failures, the tragic voyage of me and you.
No return trip, just tripping under foot.
Burn the fleet, the scourge as our past, torch the entire crew.
One ship, then the next, careens into the blaze, timbers and ash,
fallen deep, submerged into the last, the fog like haze, billows of smoke.

Sunken treasure, wreckage and relics
left alone as we sought out uncharted waters
and far off distant lands.
Out of the reach of all the dissenting hands,
anguish and bloodlust,
If I can’t have you, no one else can.