I've Been Known To Miss The Mark

Because this will be forced down, I’d let you all read this now.

please keep loving me,
when thought of losing
what we are
feels like death’s cold breath
on the backs of our necks.

please keep loving me
when it does not come
so naturally.

even when it feels more like work than
like play.

please,
keep loving me.

please keep loving me
when I scratch open
our old wounds
and when our wild hearts
tug at the chains
which hold them home.

please keep loving me.

when your eye wanders
more often than it watches over me,
and when your body lusts for new
adventures.

if ever the shadow you cast
falls on and colors a darker shade
the pillows and the blankets
and the body
of another,
lying
in a place
more like the scene of a terrible crime
than a home,
even then,
especially then…

please keep loving me.

and when old faults are
far behind,
let’s laugh at the day we are riding.

let’s hold the brightest of hopes
for tomorrow
and the day after that.

when we make copies of ourselves
and we spend decades
mixing in the best ingredients
we each have to offer up-

please keep loving me.

one day those kids will move away,
to search for love
like what their parents had.

in times when we are the envy of friends
for our perfect harmony,
when it’s more true than they could know
and just as much
when that harmony is just a mirage
viewed from their desolate perspective.

when you’re the boat
and I’m the sea
and we
refuse to flow
together,
while we wait for the safety
of high tide…

in some of the last years
when the fading blue blotches
of old tattoos
are joined
by the brown spots of age
marking the soft,
crinkled, see-through skin
on our faces and our hands.

when the house we bought
with the money we earned
selling off our youth,
starts to fall apart.

when our floorboards,
our walls give way to wind
and hallways creak and shiver,
when the roof begins
to let in rain…

when the sons and daughters
come home for holidays and
bring us pamphlets,
meant to coax us from the comfort of our home.

when they take us away
to roll around in chair parades,
shuffle around on canes,
wait out the twilight
spent in buffet lines,
where we can die of natural causes
and be scooped off the floor by
trained strangers.

and when our sight begins to fail
I hope we still see
the same reasons
we spent the only life we had
together.

when all of this truth
comes to be,
please…

please

keep loving me.

In keeping with Patriotisim.

they’re plucking pennies off the eyelids
of the newly down
the freshly dead.

fear-mongering warlords
going door to door
selling their snake oil.

and gold plated
life-like depictions
of that cult-classic
crucifixion.

run and hide
if you know what’s good for you.

they’re saying you’re in danger,
and you believe
you fear
for the safety of your family.

you do
what you gotta do.
but don’t say I never warned you
about the enemy
disguised
in our red, white and blue

every other generation I guess we have to learn
the lessons all over again.
acid washed hippies questioning authority…
tune in, drop out, something like that…
they grew up and forgot about the changes
and the progress they had made.

now, when we ask questions
the authority calls us terrorists.

Go Team Go!

I gradually lost what little faith I had in us,
in all of us,
as people.
I found some kind of power in myself
and I don’t know how it happened
or why it happened,
I just know that the more I feel compelled
to believe in something bigger than all of us,
the more I started loving
all of the little things all around us.

The way we really do genuinely care for each other,
even as we’re swinging our wild arms about
and cursing our bad luck,
even as we’re scheming
and plotting
and fucking people over,
we do genuinely care.

there’s good in everyone
whether we like it or not
and I think I’d like to stick around a while,
cheering for my team.

Dumb Luck ‘Crosstown

right now,
brand new little teeth
are digging through gums.

handshakes and first kisses.
glances from strangers
passing by.

the glare
limousines in a line
immigrant kids sweating
waxing to a mirror shine.

and bones are snapping.
flags waiving at half mast.
a power bill goes unpaid
and a father is a failure,
thankful for the darkness
while he cries
as quietly as he can.

and across town
at the theatre
a thousand paying customers
in tailored perfection
clap, clap, clap.
bravo.

meanwhile,
there’s a nasty head-on wreck
out there on 32nd street.
think an ambulance has been called.
think it will arrive
five minutes too late.

a child who could have
grown up to be king
doesn’t get that chance.

an uncertainty is now
not so pliable, uncertainty
is metal,
forever cement.

there’s a hurried last pull of air
can’t fill a broken lung,
eyes, wide, vacant, gone.

‘crosstown
they’re taking their bows
to an enthusiastic standing ovation,
a thousand satisfied customers
clap, clap, clap, bravo.

You Will Be OK, I Promise.

sometimes I feel
the way I think you feel right now.

I used to feel it pretty often,
felt like all the time.
I even felt like that yesterday.

but now I can look back at all the really bad days
and I just can’t help but smile
at all the great days in between.

and I know it doesn’t make a difference
or make anything better right now…

just know that things do get better,
they always do,
they have to…

if for no other reason
than to give us someplace
real high up to fall from.

some place real high up,
some place
to bounce back to.

because we do bounce back.

so stand up and go outside
and feel the warm sun on your face.

Raised By The Tide

I feel change don’t know if it’s them or me. Hard going from a stranger to an old face that’s just not out of place. I feel stuck on fast-forward, and I’m passing the best parts all to fast. Locked in this movement, I pray the sky comes to life. Way out in the cold west But I’m soaring home to Indiana. These states have taken me But not for better things. H I’ll fight to the death to make my family name proud. Cause I ain’t got nothin’ to lose! Feelin’ stuck on fast forward, and I’m passing the best parts all to fast. Out in the cold west But I’m soaring home to Indiana. These states have taken me But not for better things. These miles have got me thinkin’ about missin’ home and all. I’m just laying here restless… But there is no reason for me to be hangin’ my head. We can’t help but be blessed When you’ve been raised by God’s Finest. Way out in the cold west But I’m soaring home to Indiana. These states have taken me But not for better things

Bro Names

Brozo the Clown
Rag and Brone
Broledad Bro’Brien
Breau Brummel
Brole Porter
Flannery Bro’Connor
Angelina Brolie
Marco Brolo
Plácido Bromingo
Brony Seikaly
Vincent Van Brogh
Brodhistiva
Sandy Broufax
Brosef Stalin
Brojohsephat
Lebrona Helmsley
Tom Brolicchio
Brohan Santana
Brobi-Wan Kenobi
Haley Broel Osment
Brometheus
Fidel Castbro
Brol Pot
Elvis Costellbro
Amy Broehler
Stephen Brolbert
Nabroleon Bronaparte
Broliver Cromwell
Evander Brolyfield
Mario Brotali
Brophia Loren
David Brohansen
Terrell Browens
Tony Bromo
Braubert
Pete Brose
Brony Soprano
Jonathan Safran Broer
Alex Brovechkin
Bro Jackson (you don’t know bro)
Bropher Grace
Renzo Pianbro
Santiagbro Calatrava
Broam Chomsky
Evelyn Brah
Bronus Wagner
Brad Brohaus
Giorgibro Armani
Al Brolson
Greg Brostertag
Emilibro Estevez
Paul “Bro” Bryant (Broooooollll Tide!)
Pablo Picassbro
Broto Baggins
Diegbro Velázqeuz
Larry
Bromar Sharif
Scarlett BroÿHara
Willem Dabroe
Brolden Caulfield
Broni Mitchell
Pebro Almobróvar
Francis Ford Broppola
Truman Cabrote
John Broltrane
Broman Brolanski
Mary-Kate and Ashley Brolsen
Gary Broldman
Bronas Salk
Slobrodan Mibrosevic
Teddy Broosevelt
Marilyn Monbroe
Charles Brokowski
Rimbraud
Brogi Berra
Czeslaw Mibroscz
Paul Brauguin
Tim Tebro
Edgar Allen Bro
Christopher Brolumbus
William Jefferson Clinton
Norah Brones
Brofessor X
Brofiteroles
Rice o Broni
Pete Brozelle
The Sultan of Bronei
Deuteronomy
C-3PBro
Brodhisattva
Brohsaphat
Methuselbrah (oldest living bro)
Gandalf
Bro Chi Minh
Larry, Curly & Bro
Dirk Diggler
Brodo Baggins
Bromer Simpson
Grady Sizemore
Helmut Brohl
Foghorn Leghorn
Brobespierre
Nicolas Sarbrozy
Boutros Boutros-Gali
Broprah Winfrey
Brohan Brohan
Axl Brose
Sherlock Brolmes
Othellbro (not to be confused with Henry IV, Part Bro)
John Brolmes
Frank J. Zambroni
Yoko Brono
Apollo Brohno
Coolibro
Broco Crisp
Broald Dahl
Brophie Dahl
Bronan the Brahbarian
Bro Derek
Brollie Massimino
Mr. Brojangles
Bro Diddley
Yo-Yo Brah
Bro-M-G! (not a name, but still…)
Brosie OÿDonnell
Gina Brollo Brigida
Peter Bro’Toole
Brokie Roberts
Brohammed
Brony Randall
Broco Chanel
Brosé Feliciano
Bro. Henry
Brosephine Baker
Bromeo O. Bromeo
Frédéric Bropin
Bromeslice
BrO. J. Simpson
Johannes Brahms
Don Breaux
Jon Favbreau
Jon Bon Jovi
Mephistophbroles
Diego Marabrona
Brony the Tiger
Ben Bronanke
Raffaello Brollieri
Wolfgang Amadeus Brozart
Sen. John Breaux
Salvador Bralí
Giacbrometti
Landbro Calrissian
G.I. Bro
Sonia Brotomayor
Broach K
Brosama bin Laden
Khalid Sheik Brohammed
Nancy Pebrosi
Will Broldham
Sandra Broh
Brozymandias
Bro Vaughan
Erbrol Flynn
Kareem Abdul-Jabbro
Bill Brodley
Fats Bromino
Brollie Fingers
Ringbro Starr
Brorence Henderson
Don Breaux
Broseidon
Brohim
Brosius
Kurt Brobain
Brody Jenner
Tom Brody
Alec Broldwin
T-Brone Burnett
Broald Dahl (and, of course, Brophie Dahl)
Broland the Thompson Gunner
Broe Biden
Bromagnon Man
Brjöron Borg
George Brahshington Carver
James Francbro
Bro Jo White
Barack, Michelle, Malia, and Sasha Brobama
Massibro Ambrosini
Brose Feliciano
Dom DiMaggibro
Brokely Carmichael
Bro-klyn Dekker
Brodi Al-Fayed
Hermann Brorschach
Magnetbro
Brol’ Dirty Bastard
Shaquille brO’Neal
Muggsy Brogues
Telly Savales is Brojak

Drunk texting God.

Last night I drunk text messaged God.

I just wanted to tell him I have been thinking about him, a lot.

And to tell him I have been stalking a church.

I meant to write starting a church.

But no one spells right drunk texting anyway. Last night, I sent out a butt load of embarrassing text messages and copied them to everyone like yo like sup like I was out sinning crawled in a bed the room is spinning it’s all in my head I cant get to sleep and the weight of the world is like the weight of my sheets hears the great thing about my church you keep your religion because my church is for those of us who grew up wishing we believed in an afterlife and for those of us who were so close to God we could practically lean over and make out with her

my church is so sick of bloody crusades to the march of drum corps I’m starting a church that gets pissed of and starts thumb wars maybe a church that gets Mondays off for religious reasons A church that starts foam parties and elevators to learn about praise the roof the roof the roof is on fire we’ll dance as it burns for 8 magical days

that was a Jewish reference

And no offense to Gideon bibles but my church goes into hotel rooms and fills the drawers up to the top with chocolate pillow mints. At my church if you choose to go to Sunday school you don’t learn about hell.

Hell no you eat Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert shaped potato chips and watch Chappell show my church had 10 commandment 5 precepts and a work placed abused handbook but we partied hard last weekend and I think we left them in restroom at chucky cheese.

Now, we just go by the picture of a heart that I found in a bar napkin.

My church tongue kissed your mom last night.

Um… just kidding she left 5 red fingers across my face  we hung out with the Creator.  I think she loves you she’s beautiful she’s got daughter tattooed on her left bicep son on her right my church is at the center of the planet and has the most amazing stain glass windows.

The glass is the floor of the ocean the colors are when you can look up and see blue and a manatee.

I love manatees.

Tony Montana comes to my church and forgets he left his cocaine in the car. we play stairway to heaven on Hendrix’s broken guitar

my church gets fucked up on communion wine and ask lampposts to be our valentine.

my church barhops together.

in my church if you don’t blow yourself to smithereens you get 17 virgins in a room to yourself where you go and play star fox 64 together.

My church got beat by the skate board kids for being a rollerblade kid but rolled to school the next day on one skate and two crutches, true to the fight with a fist in the air screaming fruit booters unite. 

My church can feel  a pulse in its fingertips, has 3 stomachs because our fear is hard to swallow but love always has room.

My church has a bladder and always asks to go to the bathroom

I had forgot to mention, there are drawbacks of course.

My church will not resurrect you dead hamster.

My church will not play for keeps, wear Versace, give out baby Jesus tomaogotchis.

Oh, and Tom Cruise thinks my church sucks. 

I’m not Jesus Christ but I can turn water into kool aid.

I’m not Jim Jones, My church is like totally a cult and everyone drinks the kool aid and everyone dies but for some people my kool aid doesn’t kick in until your one hundred and 5, surrounded by everyone who matters most to you.

Yes some of us go early but in my church you have to think about that possibility because my church makes you think about being scared,  I’m talking like waves of fear like your lying in bed at night and you pull your blankets up to your neck and your covers are like a tsunami of fear, and you start hyper ventilating, thinking about you are getting older way faster than you tare getting things accomplished. about how skinny you arms are about how fat your tummy is
about how much it’s going to suck to eventually lose the power to think about all the bad stuff we do at our church don’t fall asleep yet.

Contrary to popular belief that’s not where dreams get accomplished. The body of Christ is your body, your body is usable, your body is suitable and you don’t need anything different.

Keep your broken cell phones.

Don’t delete your text messages.

You might read those stupid ass badly spelled rants over a Sunday morning headache and have a religious experience.

When I Remember

That boy is gone
Sometimes i miss the way he wept at night
To be still and not run
To be rocked to sleep in your light
These days there is not much that will bring tears to my eyes
But when i remember who i am and who you are
When i remember

I am walking blind
So distracted that i dont even feel when you hold me
When did i grow such thick skin
You are my sunshine and rain
My joy and sweet pain
I’m a spotless stain
That boy is gone
But nobody moves me like you do
When i remember

A cloud moves in, rain falls, thunder strikes
And sunshine breaks through the clouds
I can cry out of sorrow and joy
Every drop of rain turns into a crystal in the sun
So wash my eyes, my clothes, my skin, my bones, my soul
My feet, my love
I’m not forgotten
I’m in your thoughts cause i feel sunshine in the rain

To this day nobody moves
Nobody
Nobody moves me like you do