Irvine High

A Work In Progress (2003)

Know A Girl (2003)

A Motivation (2004)

Pack all your bags son. Now, listen to me.
My heart hits summer cadence when hardly I can breathe.
Checking my pulse, taking my pulse, walking through grass autumnal.
Black beats over shifting leaves will happily bleed.
She looked up two seconds slow, down two seconds fast.
Suddenly the futures just a glimpse in the past.
Holding on. holding on. Parting from. Down and done.
Shaking off the notion I was never on my own.
Shawn thinks it's just so simple, surely I can see
I boarded up my windows, I'm not here to be free.
When the walls come to close on this house overgrown;
black feet feed the fertile land that swallows us whole.
Check my withered dreams; mold on all the fruit.
Paper bag; her chin drips juice with lips to form a clue.
Pick me up I'm just crippled. I can't seem to get too far.
Tie me to a rocket please and shoot for the stars.

Down and Done

Happy Trees (2010)

life like you thought it would be is simple
and nothing like me

shallow me, shallow me
christ-like and crystal i dance in the thistle
you're god to me
cry like a baby, sweat like a lady in heat

shallow me, shallow me
cordial trifectus, bloated and sexist
blood-lust for breakfast you're on to me
over and under, through me like thunder, you boil with blunder
your backstabbing cracked shadow bleeds blood from your nose, wet through your clothes, the poles in the hole and the honey is sweeter than symphony.
give to me bread to leave crumbs for the critters
cusp as i titter with love that i litter to seed.


life-like

Over the mountain and down through the trees
I will carry the fountain as I range in the breeze
do you taste of the water as I age with the leaves
feel your lips wave and ripple; pull me under the sea
now I sleep as an oyster in this water I breathe
pearly white is my daughter, let the sun set her free
would you pull her from under, up and out of the green
string her through with the others for the whole world to see

No one knows just how I love.

The Fountain

Them good ol boys are spiteful old men
combed and cut to cream the crops.
Them old time ladies are powdered white babies
clothed to cull the clever cocks.
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but I don't care.
It's just a whisker for a hair.
The silence drones throughout the night but I'm not scared.
Let's start the show, pull up your chair.

The cover of corn stalks the footfall of graveyards
to plan the pastures presents past.
The hollow of house holds a handful of fools gold
to tell the tale of broken glass.
The fires burn the towering twins but I don't mind.
It's just a symbol for a sign.
The howling herds quake the earth but I don't cry.
It's just the hour of our time.

The cops bust the kettle with whistling metal
through harvest moon-lit dusty roads.
The crop dust is settled with chamomile nettle
singing to sleep the stinging stones.
The body bleeds pomegranate seeds to feed them wine
and that's just fine it's only fair.
And as we leave the whispering wind is left behind
to fill their ears with Plato's lyre.

Prince Parise

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