Get In the Car

Transgressions and transformations.
Reincarnations of tattered souls. 
Remember what dreams are composed of,
Remember we are only fools.

If we don't accept changes,
And live strictly off of hypotheses,
The only change we could undergo,
Is end of friendships and new enemies.

You see our mind has a mind of it's own,
And within it is our functions,
And we control our functions,
So change is all part of that motion.

Openness is a saint. 
We cannot conduct energy,
Unless we accept all transgressions,
And become the transformer for the enemy. 

Everyone is the enemy,
And we are all due for new formation,
So please don't be scared,
when the lights touch down in new motions. 

Keep the car running. 
Keep the engines purr,
To be heard from a distance.
To be heard. 


© 2011 the still air

moonlight

The best i can be
only comes with moonlight
so it seems,
that sleeping isn't right.

It's the one time i'm useful,
so to let it go to waste,
is like pretending i don't exist,
like pretending my home's not a place.


© 2011 The Still Air

If only I wouldn't miss you

If only i wouldn't miss you, 

It would be so easy to dream constantly for weeks.

It would be so easy to disregard what life is.

It would be so easy to just disappear

And then reappear in silence.

If only i wouldn't miss you,

It would be so simple to slip away,

It would be so simple to let myself fall,

It would be so simple to let go of the railing

And catch on at the last second.

I would miss you,

It's not easy to dream at all, because you're so real,

It's not easy to think for a minute that i'm minuscule,

And it's not easy to know that leaving would mean leaving you,

And that's something i'm not willing to do.

I still can't wait to reach my home in the sand,

But i'm happy enough living in my home with you.

© 2011 The Still Air

Hide.

Why can't   i hide,
in   a  box  for   a King
filled   on   the inside
  with   all   that   hard work   could  bring?

Why   can't    i   hide
on     the    throne by   the queen
     living   so   wide   -  eyed
without    the   city  scope    scene?

Why  can't   i   break apart
or  dismantle      the  core;
the    way    the    heart
has   been   run  so far?

       and   Why can't  i   tear into
    the       story   i wrote
  and    change the    pages  construe
     onto    a        more amorous   note?

well,          noone   said i can't  .

© 2010 The Still Air

a little movement

a little movement,

can  cha nge a day

a little movement

and  you'll   convey

a little movement

to   make a heart  obey

a little movement

you'll feel  de fray

move a little

and  feel    a new

move a little

and   pursue

move a little

and   stare into  vast blue

move a little

until you  know it's you

no movement

shows  you 're headst rong

no movement

makes  time  prolo    ng

no movement

can be all   you are   lifelo ng

no movement

doesn't  putyou   where you    belo ng

so move a little.have a little movement.

© 2010 The Still Air

November air.

I glimpsed it  s       arrival
    i ll         say it   glimpsed  me
and    i saw    it   toda y
in  a way    only  i could   see.

I    felt   it     surr ound me
in it s         breeze       i  had       awaited.
it s          air         had not  stopped
had   not       given  in       or    hesi tated.

I    heard      it
  and       in       a way     I avoided it
by  layerin g       on         resistance
that         made      me          admit:

I  am   not        a part  of  weather
i m          merely   breathing       a ir
and as    i          accept the    art of    everyt hing
i ll     breathe      again             i  swear.


© 2010 The Still Air

Reason

If reason is what drives ourselves,
Into question after question,
Then how can we accept anything,
If we're focused on obsession?

Reason infects the mind,
And spreads like the cancer,
Until our conscience can't tell us,
  -Not everything has an answer.


© 2010 The Still Air

knowledge

if  knowledge                 comes with age,
does    age define our             knowledge?
or  does       knowledge                define itself,
with  the     experience   of                   how far's the edge?

the        close                  mind,    no matter the     age,
will     not                   develop its    knowledge,
     and                  cannot      define itself,
 even           after slipping over the
                                                    edge.

© 2010 The Still Air

feers

When the darkness       comes,
I hide            inthe  light
Afraid  of     the shadow      progressions
Of the        night.

When     the storm       rains 
                           down,
I hide                   under       shelter,
Afraid o f        lights in     the     sky,
That           make  medeter.

When                        the tide comes to close,
I hide  where I find            height,
To  avoid even the     slight chance,
Of being pulled
                         under tonight.

When the stars don’t shine,
I  watch  the   blackened       night,
Wait   for that                 sunrise to roll in,
I know the sun will still shine bright.

Even if it’s cloudy.


© 2010 The Still Air

saved for another day

The eyes closeup             the sky,
control the weather  frominside,
she is day,              she is night

           she opens up her           rains,
 not in dire           rage,
but to save her sun
                               for another day  .


© 2010 The Still Air

Even Dogs Eat Crumbs

I’m going to            need help,
and       justasmuch     as you,
cause                      I find the old self,
waiting for             the new.

I       still watch             apparitions,
     dancing in               a background,
and I still know of              the heard,
making       music and sweet          sound.

But I’m merely                  just another,
walkingamongst                   the others
and              I need just as much       saving,
as a man who finds he             druthers.

            So                I’ll reminisce on this,
that as I feel all      senses numb,
                               that with everything I do,
even dogs eat crumbs.

© 2010 The Still Air

nameless .

spread
                    my
                                      words
to
                  give
                                me
                                              fame
so
                    life
                                      gives
                                                         me
a
                 different
                                                name


I want                                            different
                         to be           
but
                         differently
                                                       the same
so people will
                                   at least

want                                       know                                name
                          to                                      my


                 up
id give
                                 myself
i'd
                  give in
                                            to this
                                 streamofconciousness
or
             lack                 of
                                              selfforgive ness



and when                   i
                                   find
                                out
                                     who
                             i
                                                am
i'll be sure
                      to let
                                        you know
that
     i'd
rather be
                                                         nameless
than
                      be
                                    another
                                                          star
                                    that
            glows




so
   keepmywords
'cause
     imust conf ess
                                             i'd rather  staywith you
                                            happy
                                  &
                nameless               .
© 2010 The Still Air

the last stamp.

Years of stamp collecting
Made me realize the truth:
That every stamp is perfect,
But should be left unused.

Anytime I tried to dip
The perfect stamp in ink,
The imprint was off balanced,
asymmetrical, out of sync.

Again! Again! Never give in,
Words in ink that I’d replay;
However, it’s hard to say
How much ‘never’ decayed.

I reused the best stamps,
The ones that truly stood out,
‘Till their lines were flat and feckless
And I’d have to learn to live without.

My collection had run dry,
When I separated good from bad
And looked at others piles,
Looked at what they had.

All the things I needed,
To complete my stamp collection.
Everything would come together;
A pattern with direction.

When I thought I’d have no more;
As I looked at my good pile,
Someone stumbled upon me,
Tried to offer me a smile.

He had no words on his lips,
No speech in his cheeks,
But a stamp in his hand,
A stamp so oblique.

Was no fit to my collection,
But was beautifully inlayed;
A rose with perfect shape
Peerlessly weighed.

I dipped the stamp in ink
And placed it on the pad,
But before I could reveal,
The unknown result I had,

I opened up my lips
And my voice had begun,
“This is the last stamp I’ll use,
I pray it’s a good one.”

© 2010 The Still Air

Alive.

Help, a word commonly used when one is troubled,
But my trouble won't stop, and help isn't the word I would've used.
I think just a few more drinks, I'll be fine... I'll be fine even when I've stumbled.
I feel them at my back, laughing, God, Why are they so amused?

love... Love? well, I never new real love.
True I had her every now and again. It was just her to myself
but she.. she seemed so... so proud of,
so damn proud of herself.

And the chemicals. Yes! The depressants,
Thank God for the narcotics that filled my breath.
who knew such wonderful things could come from plants,
and... and... fuck, I can see my death.

I was drunk at the wheel, summer of 08.
They said "get a taxi", but I was out of my mind.
If they had just helped instead letting me take the wheel of fate...
It's not my fault, right? cause something tells me it is... something inside

I lay here now... alone, but alive.
I'll cling onto life, no matter what's happened.
I know... I know I should've, could've strived,
but, lets face it, we all get distracted.

So as I lie here on my bedroom floor, tears...
tears across my face and scars on my arms,
I'm confused, and I doubted you for years.
but you... you can take me from worlds reach... from the worlds harm.

Help, it's hard enough just to think I'm alive...

© 2010 The Still Air

If?

If life is not worth                       living,
then why are           we still here?
From lifeanddeath we're                           hiding,
underneath our
            fear.

And if life is not worth               undertaking,
then why do          we still care?
Forgetting       almost                          everything,
                                   air.
and tossing it in the

And if life cannot be comp   lete,
then why do I      feelthisway?
about all the times                   we'll meet.
and all                the words we'll say.

And if I was put on this
        earth,
was it to be                    nexttoyou?
The fire inside,
                      brought up from birth,
tell me,                                       can you see it too?

But if it was                               all coincidence,
then why should it happen to                             me?
May I say,                         if it's not pretense,
then clearly, i can't see?

                    If it takes a heart to find a heart,
would you let it die?
                   Would you save me, or do your part,
If I fell down tonight?

© 2010 The Still Air