Hold On (We're Almost There)

(For the people of Bangladesh and the souls of their loved ones- safe passage)

Take cover

it's coming down crashing

the ceiling is coming undone

piece by piece it's falling apart

the walls are crushed

and ground into dust

It breaks my heart

Hold my hand in yours...

Deliver

us into salvation

Our bodies are given away

piece by piece we're all torn apart

our bones are crushed

and found in the dust

It's shakes my heart

Lord, my soul is torn

Don't worry

of who is to blame

the dark of the dawn has come

piece by piece we're taken apart

and sewn back up

bound by our trust

I place my heart

in the hands of yours

So hold on,

We're almost there..

We hold on,

We're almost there!

Take cover!

It's coming down crashing!

The ceiling is coming undone!

Salvations

There is a beach house in my dreams

riddled with dusty things

on the walls lives a whole history

my collection of memories

The edge of the universe, I have seen

there was nothing there for me

just a grip of complex patterns

I laughed until I cried

Today the fifth year continues

soon coming to an end

I have taken on the task

of letting everything go

it runs on frayed tattered edge

Kin

Maybe I should give up

trying to love you

maybe I should give up

calling you my kin

Am i so bad that you don't wanna know 

who I am

or who we are together?

If you choose to be

You will be alone

If you choose to be

You will be afraid

Does it hurt so bad when you look at me?

Of Who I resemble

Of Who I favor most?

Maybe I should give up

trying to look at you

Maybe I should give up

calling you at all

Round Corners

Is it enough to be a dreamer
a composer of realities
One that bends the lines
rounds corners and breaks light?

What is it to become the dream,
to personify a fantasy,
the walking image whom
manipulates its every angle?

The flesh of the imagination
is bound to the bones of perception
nourished by the blood of creativity
and courses through figurative vein

nails and hair become corrupt
growing and curling like nightmares
draping over and on beliefs and certainties
playing pretend at ones expense

trans-dimensional sketches
dance in poly-morphing rhythms asking
"Could a finite vision transcend
the perceptual walls of the unrefuted?"

It is felt as a sound
a knocking, pulsing vibration,
an oscillating electric punch,
the budding of a fiery orgasm

A broken chord plays whole notes
and dissonance emerges through the chroma
polished by smooth resolving concord
birthing temporary silences between silences

Hallucination stretches
proposing total faith in the immediately visible,
or a fear cloaked in the invisible,
perhaps the invisible cloaked in fear

There is something permanent in an idea
like a photograph, it can be seen
and like a memory, it can be photographed
half forgotten in a dusty index of pictures

Chilling at my place,
in the comfort of my room.
I hear the sirens starting up
gunshots shook my afternoon.
OPD is swarming
calling out for assistance
someones boy is laying in the street
he needs that ambulance.