Writing, Ideas, & Stories
we fall
we rise
we find each other at the bottom
it’s not where we started but we here
here at a fountain;
throwin’ dimes
wishin’ for a miracle:
feedin’ weedin’ threw the muk at the bottom
can i get a dolla fifty?
fifty begging for air
yet
we got here
out of the weeds
through the open doors
into a day
where we could breathe fresh air
where the mornings are filled with jelly toast and cartoons
where the nights are not filled with open prayers and sealed letters
and this is Troy
should i?
wander around this empty room reading the same lines until they are burned into my brain
should i?
sing it in a different note feel it bottle in my throat read it write it on a different note
should i?
read about it on the front page kick it into another gauge feed it all into my road rage
should i?
show up at your door let you know this is meant for more i’ll never leave this is what i stand for
should i?
every inch, was not a promise
gloves without the ring
night without the moon
yet, we are howling.
wanderer without a road
ready for adventure.
and you gave me the map
taught me to read the legend
handed the pen to script the legend.
the spine in my back
the knuckles of my fist
the blood i spill
you talked
and i walked
i’d never let the air between us
hold our throats hostage
suffocate that will-
it’s the last thing;
i’d never;
most of the time i stutter and mutter
and wonder what’s on your mind
for i’m on the moon and i’d never leave you behind
fixating on tonight
i’m not a white knight
too many stains from rain
shooting through my brain
like i lost game seven an champagne
is rainin’ down-
it’s the last;
never.
Woke up this morning
With a bright idea
Maybe I can exist
Forever right here:
pulled up with two to my name
nothing but a dream of fame
the lonely girl in the back screamin’ same
i’ll be here longer then you expected
spread all this magic i’ve collected
screamin’ louder then all ya’ll projected
change in the moment
change for the moment
singin’ over this fountain drinkin’ your bestowment
flyin’ high feelin’ real cool(cool)
stylin’ smoke chillin’ i’ll never run out of jet fuel
until I run out of jet fuel
Fate in your hands
While you’re waitin’ for me
I’m already there
Fallin’ in deep
Now is only now
Head back to the ground, dear
running off lasagna energy-
i will remember these faces
the ones here now when all was muddy
my day one buddy
chillin’ blastin’ kid cudi;
we are all mr rager
i prayed once-
like a message in a bottle i threw it in an ocean of many
they clinked together like after a toast-
or a prayer
i do not know if they will ever get to mine or which god answers the phone
maybe it is like the lotto system and we are all on hold
waiting for our number to be called like the dmv;
the bottle was ordinary but the paper was special
out of a journal with muses on the cover
thought they would get a laugh out of that-
whatever god; he she it just know i was in a dark place
darkened scribes on a windy night
saying hello to the moon inches from a fall-
i would not bother you guys
if it was not important
was hoping to get into the priority lane
but i have missed church a few hundred times so i get it
just need something to go right-
anything;
Flipping channels
through all these different success stories
a chance to make a life
to be someones
either through blood
or opportunity.
Them being their, doesn’t mean they’re the best
waiting for the next great to pick up that shield
a Captain is always on the way.
I watch, knowing someone who sings better
paints better
and at the age of four
I learned that people are not born equal
death is a guarantee
and failure is a privilege,
not all of us see the stars.
So will flip channels
pretend that these people never scaled that mountain
and reached
even for a second
to be someones hero;
even if they can’t see the same stairs
or know how to walk
those heroes reach an arm out
lend an ear see the sea smell the breeze
they’ll be there for tough times
sing their song
end their show
with us in our living room
thank you
but I’ll be their one day
with all my might.
Saint's Muse 