Talk to me.
Tell me what’s wrong,
and I promise I won’t
come back with a song
about how it all
will all be fine.
I can’t even say
it’ll be better with time,
or work, or a smile,
or even days on your knees.
Because I don’t know.
So talk to me please.
Celebrate Responsibility
Back home before the fireworks,
because I have a baby
and babies are not freedom.
Lets have fireworks on Labor Day and Mother’s Day and Father’s Day,
and maybe not so late at night,
to celebrate responsibility.
The Eve of Independence
On the eve of independence,
our hearts are clenched so tight.
With only one thing on our minds,
our souls are set to fight.
By Your Toil
Beans in the fields,
weeds in the beans.
God said, “by your toil”
and we feel what it means.
That nothing is perfect.
There’s no magic fairy dust
or magic fairy spray
and so toil we must.
Some toil on foot,
pulling weeds with their hands.
Some toil their minds
to find a balm for this land.
It’s There
If this is the lowest price,
then, by golly, we must pay it.
Just like every thought I think–
it’s there and so I say it.
Picking Up My Own Slack
Picking up my own slack
is worse than that of someone else.
There’s no superior feeling.
There’s no pride if I were to tell
“Yeah, I didn’t do it then,
so today I did it double.”
No, there’s just a nagging feeling
like I’ve gotten into trouble.
Monitor
“Why is my butt crying?”
I wondered in my head.
Then I remembered I wore the monitor
and the crying was in bed.