Words & Music

Fiction, Music, Poetry and the Occasional Drawing.

Friday, October 21, 2016


Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Tuesday, October 11, 2016


My brains don’t work like others do
The same thing goes for my heart too
Enough enough enough enough
Of all this repetitious stuff

Overheated conversations
Character assassinations
Horrible communications
Calcifying observations
Suffocating obligations
Nullifying occupations
Cancerous considerations
Unintended aggravations
Unconvincing explanations
Overcooked imaginations

Misunderstood meditations
Incorrect interpretations
Overcrowded isolations
One-sided collaborations
Questionable motivations
Immoral insinuations
Pornographic situations
Foolish overestimations
Necessary illustrations
Of intimate limitations
Unattainable elations
Uncontrollable frustrations
Unfulfilling expectations
Of immortal incarnations

Temporary consecrations
Cascading exhilarations
Heart-stopping illuminations
Undiluted contemplations
Overwhelming fascinations
Disappearing concentration
Threatening incineration
Catastrophic conflagration

Enough enough enough enough

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Hearing things

In whispered conversations I hear sibilant fragments of curses and blessings and mundane dreams
In faraway hollering I hear the ache of unrequited love
In solitary footsteps I hear a lifetime of disappointment pushing its weight down from the shoulders, through the knees, to the balls of tired feet
In murmuring that echoes off marble walls I hear the music of a generation passing from hope to resignation
In the whistling of the wind I hear warnings of winter and the brittle cruelty of time’s inescapable touch
In the turning of pages I hear the aging of the world and the breaking of hearts
In a baby’s incoherent babbling I hear the wisdom of gods and the miscalculation of demons
In the slamming of doors I hear the desperation of children without boundaries
In the whistling of kettles I hear the tired voices of our most precious ghosts
In the screeching of a train's wheels I hear the longing for lost gratification
In the ticking of a clock I hear the illusion of order

In the crashing of a wave I hear the triumph of chaos
In nursery rhymes I hear the horror of war, undiluted by millennia
In a sizzling steak I hear the rejection of mercy
In the snap of a surgical glove I hear the sacrifice of women
In the splash of a fountain I hear the revenge youth takes against despair
In the pop of a cork I hear the promise of a hangover
In the profanity of young women I hear the shattering of shackles
In the crackling of fire I hear the legend of eternal life
In the scratch of pen-on-paper I hear the punchline to the untellable joke
In the dog-whistle whine of TV I hear the terrible consequences of distraction
In the wheeze and whir of traffic I hear the inevitability of loneliness
In the clicking of heels on shiny floors I hear the pied piper who has no followers
In the flick of a lighter I hear the cruelty of heat without warmth

In the gentle patting of flesh-on-flesh I hear the redemption of tireless hope
In the clatter of a vibrating phone I hear disembodied violation
In the flapping of wings I hear the decaying promise of escape
In the ringing of church-bells I hear the prayers of the devoted departed
In the squeal of distant sirens I hear the dread of fatherless children
In the groan of overburdened millions I hear faith in unrealized fantasy
In the receding echoes of what might have been I hear a desperate call to arms
In the bark of a puppy I hear your crinkling joy
In the rumble of thunder I hear the invitation of your bed
In the rustling of garments I hear your flesh twisting and folding and stretching and yearning
In the silence of your dreams I hear the impenetrable splendor of lives entwined in devotion
In the unmistakable cadence of your voice I hear the redemption of unconditional love
In the rattle of death I hear confirmation of my suspicion that the only thing sacred is our love

Even in cacophony I hear your beating heart
Even in the endless roar I hear your softest breath

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Happy Birthday to You

"So let us all begin
We know that love can win
Let it out, don't hold it in
Sing it loud as you can
Happy Birthday to You." - Stevie Wonder

Let's leave leap year out of the equation for now. Considering that the sexual activity of the human race continues at a fairly constant rate throughout the year, each day is the birthday of roughly 1/365th of the world's population, or 19.5 million people.

As a child, birthdays have a special significance, not just as a mile marker on the long road toward the responsibilities and freedoms of adulthood, but also as a day to get presents. As we get older, especially if we're fortunate enough to afford the things we need and want, the significance of presents diminishes and the mile markers become chips in a losing wager with the grim reaper, until we arrive at the indignity of being called young again, as in, "She's 86 years young."

The dates of birth for ourselves and those we love become magical numbers. They often come in clusters. My parents and my son have birthdays within a 10-day stretch, as do my brothers. I grew up 4 houses down from a girl who shared my birthday. When we fall in love or become a parent, new dates take on that magical significance.

In February of this year, a judge ruled that Warner/Chappell Music no longer holds the copyright for the song "Happy Birthday to You," so it has passed into the public domain, freeing up waiters all over the country to abandon the bizarre ritual of singing other birthday songs and return to singing the most recognized song in the English language, written by sisters Patty and Mildred Hill in 1893.

"Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear [name name/or na-ame]
Happy Birthday to you."

Today, like every day, is the birthday of someone special and beloved. Happy Birthday to you.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Demo: In A Hurry

The first time I heard this song I thought, if I ever find myself busking in Grand Central, this is the tune I want to play. From Loudon Wainwright III's 2014 album, Haven't Got The Blues (Yet), my take on In A Hurry.

I know you're in a hurry
You're probably late for work
That job must make you crazy
That ulcer's got to hurt
All those problems back at home

They're just killing you
The wife, the kids, the dog, the house
I see what you go through
I see you in the station
Come off the morning train
You're always in a hurry
You always look the same
Your briefcase seems so heavy
Your necktie's tied so tight
You always look so tired
Like you've been up all night


You never seem to see me
When I come up to you
And I ask you for money
Like I always do
You're always in a hurry
Why don't you slow down
We're both trying to make it
In this shitty town


I'm not in a hurry
Nothing to hurry for
I sleep in this station
I sleep on the floor
I hold out this coffee cup
There's no coffee in there
Just nickels, dimes and quarters
And pennies people spare

I know the way the world is
You have and I have not
I don't want to trade places
I don't want all you've got
But if you give me something
It might help you too
You're carrying a heavy load
I see what you go through

I know you're in a hurry
You're probably late for work
That job must make you crazy
That boss must be a jerk
All those problems back at home
They're just killing you
The wife, the kids, the dog, the house
I see what you go through