Do you believe in love?  I’m sure people’s definitions vary widely, just like their capacity to love.

If you’re lying in a relationship, you either don’t care enough about the relationship, or you’re living in fear of the other person.

If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn’t be in it.

I’m a mile away from your bedroom door

I wanted to get close, but I can’t go anymore

There’s caution tape around the 1 mile radius

of the crash site that claimed the life of one of us

How vividly I can remember the events of that day

And I thought that we both escaped unscathed

But the next morning the newspapers read

“Fatal accident leaves 1 man dead.”

Maybe if I duck under the tape

And slowly get closer to where I met fate

I’d still find my heart slowly beating and clinging to life

And I could call the paramedics, and give it CPR

Or drive it to the hospital myself if it wasn’t too far

Where they would get the crash cart, screaming “we’ve still got a chance”

One more chance to revive the romance

Between a guy who loved a girl more than he should have

Between a girl and a guy who did less than he could have

To save himself from dying in a unforeseen accident

But he didn’t, and the doctors will say they can’t

Because taking the heart away from where it was

Closer to your heart, and your rushing blood

Was what was keeping it alive, and I never knew

Your heart was keeping mine alive too.

So I’ll stay here, pumping gas in my car

My body facing your direction from afar

And I’m trying to look through all of these houses and trees

Virtually flying, imagining everything in transparency

Until I reach your bedroom, where I’ll stop and knock

And maybe you’ll answer and maybe you’ll not

Maybe your music is too loud, and you’d never hear

The sound of my heart beating, no matter how near.

I snap back to my car as the handle finishes pumping

Deep breath in, and I get a small hint of something

Besides the gasoline, there’s something else in the air

Something that reminds me of the smell of your hair

Back in my car, back on the highway I drive

Never knowing if I’m dead, or just barely alive

And as I pass the road to your place

I’m the only one turning my face

Away from the site of that terrible crash

Where wreckage is being hauled away as trash

The wreckage of what I was trying to build

But I never got to finish before I was killed.

And maybe next time I come down this way

A new structure will stand in its place

Built by a man, whose blue prints you approved

Or maybe, once all the wreckage is removed

A memorial will be built in remembrance of me

And when it’s done, the newspapers will read

“Woman builds memorial for lover lost in fatal accident.”

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.”

Proverbs 17:17

The bracelet labeled “Corporate Whore”,

I’ve worn since I got my foot in the door,

They bent me over the desk, and I begged to work more,

So that I can pay for things I can’t afford.

The watch that ticks the time,

Reminds me of times I watched slip by,

Every opportunity missed, and chance denied,

And the limited future, until the day I die.

The girlfriend’s hair thing I wear,

A display of affection for the one I care,

A trinket of hope in times of despair,

The band-aid covering my heart’s bleeding tear.

Slave to these charms,

Owned by their meaning,

No one will be keying,

These shackled arms.

I’m hugging a pillow
But I wish I had my arms around you
The road winds around a mountain
And I enjoy the never-ending view
The farthest peak seems so far
But you’re beyond them still
And if I could drive that distance, I would
But a car will never get me there

I’m listening to the mix tape I made
Between the road, tires, and my mind, a serenade
The symphony of rubber meets asphalt
The harmony of driving without halt
They all intertwine to form a musical epic
And I’m living in that moment
Because it’s the only one there will ever be.
And it’s along the way to destiny.

The wheel and my stomach turn
Along these back roads and high hopes
The tachometer becomes my time piece
And it ticks away as I dream
With both hands on the wheel, I’m not moving
But everything around me is whirling by
And I see the exit out of the corner of my eye

Big green signs dot my highway
And display names of places that I’ve never been
To meet names and faces that I’ve never seen
And I’d do that, on my stop for dinner
But I’d only stay for a little while
Wanting to get back on the road; on my way
Seatbelt fastened and ready to drive
Moving like the dead, but feeling so alive.

A soldier marches into war for someone’s future,
But he has no guarantee of his own.
A soldier will give up his own life and chance to live it,
To save everyone he loves back home.
The collective sacrifice of these mostly youthful lives,
Makes you wonder how much progress we make when one dies.
To me, that’s the travesty of war.
They’re too young to know what they’re dying for.
Uncle Sam’s fight, or big brother’s battle.
All before they get to see their own kids shake a rattle.
It would seem that the young have a higher exchange rate
than cannon fodder to slow the progression of imminent fate.
There will be less resistance from a boy without dreams,
Than a grown man who has grown to learn what it means
To kill someone, to take from another,
To feel the effects of someone losing their mother.
To see the child play, but minutes later, turn to a corpse.
To know that these are the fruits of fighting wars.
I do not think that war spelled backwards breeds a coincidence;
I believe “raw” to be an extremely appropriate adjective for these incidents.
That’s the only way to truly understand what we do
And how we should be responsible for our actions too.
Flee from the group perspective and think of the implications
We impose on those in different nations
with different lives, jobs, and skin.
With different families and friends, and religion.
Some defend their homes by giving large weapons to their sons.
We take children from their homes and give them the guns.
We train them to think it’s noble, it’s their duty, it’s just.
But these are the words of man, not in God we trust.
If I am to die, it is by God’s design.
For he has given me all that I call mine.

Men should never kiss men.  There are no exceptions.  It doesn’t matter the situation, the place being kissed, or how well they know each other.  No, not even the pope.

Travels take me far from here.
But for some reason, my mind stays home.
not that it’s lost or forgotten,
It just decides not to come.