If I spoke the language of the weather
I might have more to say
On the swirling, spinning something
Now abiding in my soul

As it stands, it might be better
To keep the forecasts off today
The wind’s a violent nothing
And I cannot find a lull.


I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
I want to be the one that forgives you
Not the one that’s stoking flames
And dousing inhibitions

But I want to laugh and feel no fear
Of what was said, and if you were near
I want to be able to see myself
And see more than just a mirror

I want to be more than the cynic
Seeing every kindness as a gimmick
Hearing every prophet, thinking
“I know what causes visions…”

But if I want to forgive you
I know what I will have to do
And I don’t know if I can dare
To give myself forgiveness too.

Uncivil War

Of blame there is aplenty
Of reason there is naught
Both sides the other’s wanting
For treason to be shot

Of consequence there’s nothing
Of punishment, that’s all we’ve got
You’d think it might amount to something
But if all you have is pain, what’s one more battle to be fought?


Is it the goal of our lives?
Ever seeking reaction —
Never an act,
Never a leap,
Never an ounce of passion:
Just an inspiration
Of color in others’ faces,
Feeling in their eyes;
Nevermind if that feeling
Is what calls when love dies.