The Clever Men of Manor Farm

Don't listen to the voice you're hearing,
In the halls of strong conviction now.
It might make sense somehow.

But can you hear the horns?
They’re singing.
Out loud for the mighty men you know.
But they don’t know,
That it’s a long way to fall.
And they’re not really men at all…

Riot of discontent on the horizon.
Where foreign winds take you.
Turning into arcing storms on this incendiary night.
Where discordant words aren’t true.

Mistaken sides,
Pour into the night to save their lives.

Oh, you know I’m dangerous to you...

Delightfully Anachronistic

My old soul will save me one day. It wrestles and grapples in awkward vengeance with the modern world. It doesn't really know the current methods or violent systems. It finds itself lost and confused in the swell of uninspiring convention. It takes unruly missteps. But it will find a soft landing place at some point. I know it will. Maybe it will bring her home to me someday, too. Maybe she'll put her key in her pocket and bring it with her so she can unlock this deadbolt buried in my heart that I've hid from everyone but her. Maybe we won't try to break each other in half this time, because time has gracefully aged our old souls. Eloquent and poetic. Old souls are tender at heart. The harlots and hyenas running around us in frenzied chaos won't be wasted on either of us anymore. Maybe I'll write a few sentences that change your life. Maybe I'll write a few that change my own. Old souls thirst for these things.

Disarming the Null and Void

My heart is a pounding war drum.
My eyes are long blue telescopes scanning the horizon.
Affixed and darting like the fireflies in my periphery throughout the heavy green vines, sweating fluorescence in the summer's sweltering choke.
My ears are deciphering sonnets and whispers charted in code.
The breeze lifts them into the air, and like radar I'm privy to what is heading this way,
So I can greet as friend or foe.
Whiskey is my petrol and my stomach burns like a combustion engine,
Shooting fuel into my amber-soaked brain...
The throttle is open.
It always is.

I've fired the first salvo,
But I've been lashed with a shiner hovering over my eye.
My aim was true.
True as my intentions.
Self-favoring is their vision and deceptive regret is the monologue.
I will raise no white flag on this hazy evening for I am a madman.
Mad as hell with a head full of bubbles and a tongue like a fuse.
I run with the moon and howl like the wild creatures stalking the cut in the middle of the night.
With blood in the nostrils I can feel kerosene pumping through my ventricles, and straining through my capillaries.
I hold no hostages, and I pour salt in wounds.
My favourite nerves hold tight and secure.
I clench my jaw and shake.

Painfully hungry, but no seat at the table.
I've got a plan, but some problems arise.
I've no more to give than what was already there.
Roads in black and skies in gray, sitting above your home...
You just gotta try harder, or feel alone.
Tell me something I don't know.
I'm angling for peace, and I do it standing up.
You're exhausted while the lights are on,
And I just want something graceful.

These are diamond-tipped offerings from the heart of a wanderer.
Everything means something.
A professional bleeding heart.
Everything you can see matters.
A poker face aimed at God and the devil keeps them guessing.
A ransom on the auction block for my soul.
It will take a strong arm.
It could be the great return of the wandering boy.
Tying cuts of ribbon to the trees he's passed so he can find his way back.
If only the storms hadn't untied and carried them off into the firmament.
I would lead you, but it's too absolute.
First I yelled.
Then I knelt.
Then I healed.

Everything you can see matters.

I Bid You Farewell

In light of the truth we stand before you...
Loose cannons with shaky hands.
Sober by morning through our self loathing,
Because the prodigal youth lament their sins.

Some say moral conscience has evaporated,
I’m afraid we don’t see it that way.
In the late night hours we stagger forward
Looking out and up for a better place.

The steps we take away from you,
Aren’t with our feet, they’re with our heads.
We’re naked, dirty, and too far gone.
They said we’d end up this way.
And they say we’re all insane.

If you venture this way, come expecting a mess
Cause every fool has a song
This makeshift virtue is truly painful
Judged for all the things we've done wrong.

This lost generation can’t live forever.
Marked by doubt and fears unlaced.
With dust in our teeth and whiskey in our eyes
We have no idea where our limits lay.
They say we’re all insane.

That’s why they say, we’re all insane…