"See You Around" ~ Vic Chesnutt

Fox On The Run ~ Zac Brown Band

The Gray Fox

I found the martyr to be a worrisome lot

Throwing yourself on your sword of supposed love

Unrelenting attachment caused my claws to cut your binds on me

Gnawing away at my own selffish thoughts

The old gray fox is now dodging your pursuit

Over the stones and through the meadows

Down in my deep den

Don't come down this hole

I fight best here

Whiskey In The Jar ~ The Pogues & The Dubliners

I've been in a Pogues sort of mood today.

There are no sad men in the bar

They come all with a purpose

Hunkered over pints of their days hard work

Listening and humming along to music their wives at home would never approve

No escaping reality...

We all know this is real and a woodstove warms the heart as well as a whiskey warms the belly

When our night ends we march home and know that we are men there and there is no need to prove it

Your poor drama

How many acts will I have to endure?

Will the repeated sword falls be your undoing?

Hell, Romeo and Juliet only died once

My interest is rushing out with it's crumpled playbill

Let the curtain fall

That first long kiss tasted good

Better than the head of a creamy stout

She looked like an angel or atleast her image was frosted by the cigarette smoke

She slid on to my lap, pressing my back into the ancient iron radiator in the bar

Despite the twinge I paused long enough to allow her red locks to dangle and curtain our moment

Delaying the touch of lips was achingly pleasurable

Her warm breath pulled me to the edge and right over

Her index finger curled and seeking, found my sweetspot near my neck

No distinguishable music

No eye contact

But I drank her kiss

Until her glass emptied and I sipped each drop as it was my last.

A satisfied sigh

I know you spent your night searching for me.

Trying to exploit my lines in flanking movements.

Each time you arrive, I've crossed the rivers and burned my bridges.

My defenses are stronger than the Shenandoah.

I'll move back up the Valley.

Retire to the safety of my heart's home.

Winding my way through Brown's Gap.

Back to the place of my solid comfort.

Stop searching for me

I am not ready to be discovered

Keep me away from the dawning of the day

The less light that penetrates my heart the better

I'm not finished being the bad man

I'm not ready to be the good soldier boy

I wish to be my own

Not a figment of your grand imagination

Not noble

Not wise

Just a man


WBA 2010

Carvings

She carved on me like a piece of cherry wood.

Her switchblade words laid my soul in shavings on the diesel soaked floor.

Oh how she carved me!

Each pass of her knife laid my dark wood bare.

Slicing my strength away until I covered the floor.

No pattern in her chaos, no love in her heart.

Just a long blade cut as my dark sap ran.

WBA 2008

"Flirted with you all my life." by Vic Chesnutt

Louie: So Old/Playdate

There is to me, no funnier comedian than Louis CK. I have a feeling that he is the twin my parents never told me about. Only if that twin is a third Irish, third Mexican, and a third Hungarian, but still my at least spirtitual twin. I have the same worries and as most of you know the same weird ability to say the most inapporpiate things at just the right time.

Daffodils

I remember when you planted the first bulbs

We joked that only luck would bring them out of the rocky soil
But in her heart I knew she hoped they would brighten up the cabin
Winters on the mountain were never easy
Short, cold days bled into still colder, longer nights
But comes March, and the old dreary leaves suddenly heave as the bright green pushes upwards and out of the soil.
Within days the daffodils bloom
First on the south side of the cabin
Then slowly as the sun warms the north side
She would gather a bunch to set on the table
Taking many minutes to make sure they looked just right.
I’d laugh at her earnestness
She always made our home the only place I could live.
I’d rather be with her in the daffodils than any blossoming apple orchard
Years have passed by and those bulbs spread thicker and thicker each spring
I see her tending to a special spot surrounded with a rail fence
Two mounds covered in yellow
One for a son we lost
The other mine

The Breakfast Beer

Many may question the breakfast beer

To me it is a ice cold sleeping pill

Sliding down my throat

This morning required a double dose

Slinking off to bed

The bottle sweats and drips on my chest

A pleasure shake comes

Slide on into sleep

A safe morning

Drunk History Vol. 5 Featuring Will Ferrell, Don Cheadle, and Zooey Desc...

The Corruption

You don't have a hair on your ass

If you haven't stood up to the corruption

If you've never seen the bark glisten when the mop hit the meat

And the low oak fire sizzles

If you've never licked your fingers clean and stained your shirt

If you've never sopped up those juices and asked to again be corrupted

Well, then you are a sorry sight and I'll be damned if you walk away without a taste

Vic Chesnutt - Everything I Say

I'm loving this painting.

Your Serious Eye

I love your serious eye

Your crooked brow

I love how it softens when I kiss your mouth

When my hand cups the back of your head

Fingers tangled in your warm glossy hair

I love how you labor to breathe in my country boy embrace

I ain't lett'n this woman go

She doesn't want delicate, she want her man strong

Like a drag off a cheap cigarette

Like a slug off a mason jar

Your serious eye tells me this.


WBA 2010

Flight

The long fingers

Trace the curve of the lips

The smoothness of the chin

There is the pulse in the neck that make her perfume throb in your nostrils

Flaired and eyes narrow

Ready to pounce on his prey

She breathes a dove-like coo

Clinching her shoulder with strong fingers

Talons

Caught

The bodies stiffen as his flight down reaches it zenith

Then repose.

WBA Januay 7, 2009

Eyes

Her piercing stare grabbed my throat

I could but only stumble through an awkward introduction

Afraid that my movements would betray my intent

If only I was able to pull away from her eyes

Tender and captivating, powerful and in command

My head is spinning


WBA January 25, 2009

Hands and Eyes

What was the first thing you noticed about her?

Her hands and eyes

Why just those?

Because hands and eyes never lie

I could tell by the first touch of her fingers that she was a hard worker

How?

The was a tiny callus on her index finger from sewing

I knew she made her own clothing

There was also strength in her fingers that said to me she knew how to garden

And that was given away by the freckles on the top of her hands that I adored

Well what about her eyes?

I knew she was good when I saw that she didn't have the sparkle in her eyes

They were green pools and I knew that she was deep in thought at the time we first met

There was a sadness of her past that shown, but the sadness was beautiful

She cared

And in time she cared for me


WBA February 8, 2009

Old Dirty Songs

Where were you on that snowy Monday

When the power popped off and was dead

I was sewing together a new shirt

With old dirty songs in my head

Kerosene smells and dim dim flickering flame

I knew you weren't to blame

For the fever that shook me to my core

I went to bed and waited for the light to sneak through the crack of the dingy dingy door

The dreams were replete with silly silly dancing girls and a dirty song in my head.


March 6, 2009 WBA

Conflagration

The lady stands behind me at the table

She whispers in my ear the words

I'll write when she moves me

More often than not she is not my muse

There is suffering in the words

The paper crumpled up in my pocket

The tender burned heart break

The remedy of never writing again

Would quench the mental conflagration

But she still smolders

Just waiting for my fuel

Waiting for me to pick up the pen


WBA February 4, 2009

Threads

There are dull pinking sheers that mash my cotton

Frustrated arthritic fingers pull for tension

Help make the fabric taut

Jagged points along the edge

A rampart that protects me from the fray

Pinning us together temporary

Until the needle brings us tight together

Patched over the patches in our melancholy shirt

But my thread is strong and will hold fast.

WBA April 28, 2009

Iris

When the iris bloom

Unfolding as a woman slipping out of her gown

Lavender slips off her shoulders to a dark and royal purple

Gold powder shakes from her laughter

Swaying with her sisters in the April winds

Knowing I will never resist a chance hold her to my face

Breath in her delicate scent

Become lost in the beauty.


WBA April 29, 2009

Beg Mercy

I wanna get drunk with Tom Waits

And tell you fabulous fuckers where to go

Rings of whiskey on a filthy bar

Smoke trails behind a wide ass'd woman

I'll bust you in the gob for looking my way

You think you can crawl down in my hole and with you self-anointed sainthood

And pull from me from ruin?

I'm going to bring you down... bring you all down

I'm going to lay wicked on you

Show you the black cat bone

No liquor will allow you sleep

Beg

Mercy



WBA May 5, 2009

Floating in Sleep

The old ceiling fan grinds away slowly

Clicking away at the one uneven spot of it's lamp.

There is a small swirl of dust as I creep through the old room towards my bed

Time to put another dream to rest

Make lay in a silk-lined coffin

Bury it away down below

So as not to be a constant reminder of another failed love

Another wasted heart string affair

Just let it go floating away


WBA 2010

Anger Is A Hawk

There are days lately when I hear my anger and it sounds like the hawk flapping his wings

Gaining altitude and waiting, circling, patterned against the afternoon sky

Riding the thermals waiting for prey

Riding the righteous wind of my indignation

Caring little for the world around me

Only focused on what others will never see

I'm waiting on you lazy rabbits

To make your languid movements

So I can grasp you and carry you away


2009 WBA

Been A Long Time

Dusting off the dirty book shelves

Full with foxing pages of long-since read tomes

Been too long since I wrote anything...

And I miss you, my words

I miss you truly

The Cure

There is a negative energy in this room

So greatly am I disturbed that I must run outdoors

Away from the face-slashing and back-biting

I'll warm myself on a southern breeze

And read the book of my ancestory

Until honor be restored and my nature is cured

And the harpies return to the frozen earth from which they sprang

Consulting with the elders

They guide me to the right path

Up, and up into the warm Blue Ridge

Letter Of Introduction

Let me just say first, that the title of my blog was lifted from a Vic Chesnutt song of the same name. "Everything I say..." Those of you who know me well enough know that Vic is my muse. Sorry he crossed over the river last year.
Ok, but what is the purpose of this blog? Well, I'm going to catalogue my poems and thoughts here. I placed a number of them on facebook last year and I thought if I started this blog it would inspire me to write more often. So here it goes. Much love to you all.