Sleepster

If you were to ask “What’s he good at now, Matt?”

I would tell you that there is one thing

If you were to ask “Does it make him look fat?”

I would say “Really? Just look at the thing.”

For of all of the things we can do in this world

He basically cares about one

Which is to lie down in a ball as he’s curled

While scoffing when I ask to run

He truly cares not, nothing matters to him

Except for a treat and a nap

If I ask if he’d like to go lift in the gym

He’d say “no, I’ll just sleep on your lap”

“I sleep over here, I sleep over there”

“Must I be forced to pick only one?

“I think that instead, since I’m a dog that is fair”

“I’ll sleep on them all, but you can go run”

Song Writers Deserve More Credit

First of all, as a writer myself I should probably admit the fact that I might be slightly biased with what I’m about to say – so to be fair, I want to get that out there before going into this. That said, I feel the need to make the following statement:

As far as songs and the music industry in general are concerned, songwriters deserve much more credit and respect by the population at large.

Most would probably agree that when we think of our favorite songs and lyrics, we tend to associate them with the artist or vocalist who sings them. In fact, I would go as far to say that in the majority of cases, the average person couldn’t even tell you or hasn’t ever heard of the writers behind the words (obviously this doesn’t pertain to artists who originally write their own material, which is another thing altogether). Personally, I feel that this is an egregious disservice to the sentiments and messages that go along with the writing. Sure, the individual delivering said messages via their a better talented/more aesthetically pleasing voice deserves recognition – but we are remiss if we think that the writers’ significance is less deserving than the singers’ reciting their work.

If anything, the entire meaning and mood that the writing instills, which as I’m sure we’d all agree can be inexplicably impactful, touching, and inspirational, exists because of the persons responsible for artistically crafting the lyrics. An incredible voice can do wonders for how the melody makes us feel, but for those who are more influenced by the actual rhetoric rather than the audible tune/melody, these folks are invaluable. Now I know some of you might be thinking “well anyone can write stuff, but only a gifted few can sing.” And you’d be right. But for anyone who hasn’t tried their hand at creative writing, be it prose, poetry, or music, please take my word for it when I say that it’s a hell of a lot harder and more complicated than it sounds. Not only does it require the creativity, wisdom, and experience to be concoct the message and meaning in the first place, it also requires a cocktail of natural talent, artistic expressive capabilities, and acute awareness of the human condition and what content resonates with us as people. In many cases, deep, profound writing even calls for emotional trauma or particular sensitivity to common struggles and challenges we face as a collective unit all trying to navigate through the cold, harsh bitch that is life on Planet Earth.

So please, make an effort to at least tip your cap or otherwise acknowledge the hard work, sweat, and tears we as writer pour into our scribbling. I’m not saying you should go build a shrine to us, but an occasional pat on the back or nod of the head would be nice, ya know? And thank you to the ones who already make an effort to be aware of this stuff.

Rant over. Good talk…I’ll see you guys out there.

Times Past

Twenty-twenty, ‘tis said to be

Yet now, so clearly do I see

Hindsight views such times, now lost

To go back I’d pay any cost

Things I wish I’d done, or said

To those who’ve drifted, or lie dead

I wish, so dearly, for the chance

To change what’s now my circumstance

So much sorrow

So much regret

No more tomorrow

They’re gone, and yet

All that’s left to do is clear

I cannot dwell on yesteryear

My choices give no other choice

I’m left with nothing, but my voice

So now I speak the best I can

I try so others understand

What matters can’t be weighed in gold

Its finding those who’s hand you hold

Fury

Petty? I shan’t think it’s so!

I have this Monet, and Van Gogh

Clearly, I appreciate

The things the low class tends to hate!

An eye for that which is so grand!

Smaller brains won’t understand

Yes, this is what I say to thee

A peasant is but lesser me

That means that I am better, yes?

Oh come on now, I must digress

Let me say something, highbrow

I am not fucking joking, now

A good person exists in me

The spirit of my mother, see

She can see right through your shit

And make you walk on top of it

So save your graces, save your prayers

Cause I know, you know, no one cares

This isn’t the beginning, friend

It’s just a taste of what’s at end

Yesteryear

I ask myself, exactly how

Did I not see as I do now?

What things went on in yesteryear

To blind what I can now see clear

Perhaps it is with every age

Our lens grows sharp with each new page

Time, it makes us wise and true

And strips naïveté from you

The young, the old, we’re all the same

Just wand’ring souls in life’s bored game

We drift and dwell and dream and drink

And hardly ever stop to think

It is the way we’ve always been

‘Twas even said when we’d begin

It will not ever change, I fear

I long for what’s lost: yesteryear

Necessary

NECESSARY

I think I’ll write a poem that speaks epic truth, tonight
It doesn’t matter if you tend to lean left or lean right
Politics aren’t helping us, the gap is greater in-between
We need to stop fixating on whose King or who is Queen

We need to shift the focus to what matters, that’s for real
We need to stop the spinning and start breaking culture’s wheel
Martin wasn’t joking when he wrote that brilliant line
The story’s great, sure, but a grander message lies behind

Nothing’s stronger than a thread that’s woven one and all
But if you try to weave it on your own you’ll sadly fall
History has proven this, it’s not news to anyone
The ink in this here pen I wield weighs more than your big gun

Every life we live is shaped by minds that can run free
And if we came together just imagine what could be
Forgiveness, empathy, this is what we need
And we ever grasp these things our whole planet will be freed

Fire doesn’t put out fire, its ego you should bury
Someone had to say it, right? These words are necessary.

One Day

Listen, can you hear it?

Such beauty, violin

It’s strings are humming softly

To remind us where we’ve been

Such time it took to get here

So far, the journey seemed

So quick were we to make it

We’ve forgotten why we dreamed

Our life was so much simpler

Our souls, they all were freed

When nothing seemed to matter

For love was all we’d need

Just how did all this happen

Where did we go astray

Is it lost forever

Or can we find our way

Such sadness sweeps, such sorrow

Alone and thinking, every night

My heart, it longs so dearly

To feel that things are right

My hope, I fear is empty

Despite how deep I yearn

To live with pain, this broken

Is something I can’t learn

I wish this world was kinder

I wish we could all live

I wish we’d act as equals

I wish that we’d forgive

We lost our love, compassion

Somewhere along the way

Yet hope will live in my heart

To find ourselves, one day

Nurture

Such sorrow do I feel

For those who never knew

My heart aches for the lost, unloved

And pain that they’ve been through

I’ve tasted life when sour

I’ve sampled it when sweet

True happiness, I tell you

Is who we love and meet

Let not the things around you

Cloud judgment, nor your sight

For life is meant for living

Do not waste it, do not fight

Dance when strings are playing

Kiss under mistletoe

Take this world by hand

And don’t ever let it go

Live with limits, never

Be generous, and love

Do not hold back anything

We know not what’s above

Such sorrow do I feel

For those who never knew

A heart that warms and comforts

Whose love was meant, for you

Ours

Tell me what you’re feeling cause my heart just started healing and I’ve poured my very soul into the words on this page

I need to understand you because I don’t want to go through all the things that locked my heart into a cold, dark cage

I’ve tried so many times and I have witnessed all love’s crimes and I don’t want to start the war my shattered heart might wage

The only thing I ask is to make honesty our task to get past each other’s pasts and make it into old age

Please tell me what you’re thinking I can’t let our love start sinking just pull back all of the curtains see, this world is our stage

Navigating

Days of old I envy, much realer all these feelings were

Now it seems it’s so fast-paced that every day and night’s a blur

Heartfelt talks under the stars are now boxed into tiny screens

And half the time when she’s not here I can’t tell what the message means

 

Context comes when eyes see eyes, the words we hear and understand

Its more sincere when we’re both here, when we can touch and hold a hand

I know the world’s exciting and the crowd is always calling us

But these things take the substance out and make love seem superfluous

 

Right now real is hard to find and so much harder to hold on

Those blissful eyes are nice, I know, but once you blink they might be gone

Why is it that we seem to care more for our fears than what we love

Emotions push, we build a wall, just to make sure they don’t shove

 

Its like we’re not supposed to feel or open up for weakness sake

Well I don’t want to live that way I want my soul to stay awake

I want to feel the ups and downs, and everything that’s in between

To know why I’ve been doing this, to know what all of it might mean

Feelings

New to me, these feelings are

I thought these thoughts all dwelled afar

For years they have alluded me

Now here, tonight, my soul’s set free

Comparison: the theif of joy

I’ve longed for this since just a boy

I’ve watched, observed, the ones who love

And always wished I’d rise above

Such reservations I have had

Since yesteryear and just a lad

Now here, tonight, under these stars

It feels like this whole world is ours

And as we dance under moonlight

Those eyes of yours, they shine so bright

Such luck it was that I found you

Let’s live this life, as we’re meant to

Your Words

What is it that you’re thinking while you’re looking at me blinking as you’re struggling with every thought and word?

I’m here before you standing and your silence is demanding all you want is to be seen and to be heard

Babe just take a breath, you’re hands are trembling to death, I’ll be right here until you want to go

Say the things you came to but when everything’s been talked through there’s just one thing that you and I both need to know

Its taken years for us to get here

There’s not a thing that we should fear

We’ve been through every twist and every single turn

So just say what’s on your mind

It could be hate or could be kind

If there’s parts that I don’t know, I want to learn

My mind is torn to tatters but the only thing that matters is to weather through the storm coming our way

This fight will come to pass and when we’ve said our peace at last you know I’ll be here waiting every day

So just get it off your chest because you know I’m not the best at this I won’t come back for seconds or for thirds

Tell me what’s up there, I’m not going anywhere, I love you and I’ll listen to your words

You Might Be A Writer If…

“All real writers are published”

Hang on a second, that statement’s wrong!

What say you of bloggers, huh?

Can poets not come tag along?

“Ha! We scoff with tilted heads”

“Real writers do those on the side”

“We know that true art lies in sales”

“For money validates our stride”

“So please, a blogger? Some stupid poem?”

“You think that these can pay the bills?”

“Don’t make me laugh, you amateur”

“Just the thought gives me the chills”

Bite your tongue, pretentious fool!

It’s not for funds, why true arts made

Passion, love guides pen and brush

‘Tis by-product, when we get paid

And cut! Fake convo ends as Matt chimes in

On wars of words, “label” affairs

I cannot help but ask them this:

WHO THE FLY’D FUCK EVEN CARES?

 

Just shut up and write, you dweebs.

 

Hard to Get

A damsel in distress she’s not, though nights are all besot with her

Affection widely chased more than even gold, frankincense and myrrh

Aged better than Venetian wine, smoother than a fine liqueur

Treat her as the Queen she is: this maiden we call Literature

 

Sought by many, caught by few, to court her is a Fool’s Errand

Exceptions only granted when one’s dedication’s apparent

Gentle, patient one must be; to nothing she can come second

For absolute commitment is the quality of all legends

 

Everybody’s knocking but the owner just turns out the light

Fight to find a way inside and find the lock is far too tight

I smile as I watch them shout and beg her for one night’s invite

Because this pen unlocks the pad where Writing lays her head at night

 

So intimate we’ve grown to be, forever I’ll be in her debt

For it was I who was distressed, and she who saved me from regret

Sincerely now I thank her for becoming my one true duet

Eternity I’d wait for her: this love who was so hard to get

Fame is Not What it Once Was

Fame is not what it once was

It did not do what it now does

A King would rule, a Saint – anoint

To serve the people – fame’s case in point

Yes, fame is not what it once was

So widely grasped for “just because”

No noble cause, just pride and gain

To serve the selfish, indulge the vain

Those who lived by what was right

Replaced by attention’s appetite

We lost ourselves along the way

Our cultures plagued by moral decay

And while, in light, we all agree

The darkness proves: wicked, are we

Perhaps one day fame will return

To what it was: no one’s concern

Back to roots we know once were

When life was not a fast-paced blur

When people cared for what was true

For those you love, and who loves you

Wanderlust

Wanderlust, traveler, perhaps even gypsy

So many labels they’ve applied, but in reality

Living life is all she wants, it’s really that simple

Her spirit shines through both her smile, and her cute cheek dimple

Life is meant for living, yes, a thing she truly gets

Singing, dancing, spinning round, she loves without regrets

Always brightening what is dark, this girl, so free of care

Defined by “one day at a time”, she’s happy everywhere

Some may say she’s weak, not strong

But she knows that they all are wrong

She is not lost, like others say

This girl’s just finding her own way

For all the things we say and do

There is but one thing that is true

Life, she says, is nothing more

Than canvas, white, awaiting more

It’s you who gets to fill the blank

And for this chance, we all should thank

This beautiful and wondrous place

For giving us the life it’s graced

King in all but Name

Put my whistle to the wind, there’s naught another ‘round

Divided is the road I’m on, my choice shall prove profound

“Go left,” says he, “Go right!” says she

The demons, they’ve misled

I ask “which way?”

“That way!” They say

And so I point my sled

Every choice we make is a decision in our head

A string of choices, such is life, that’s all until we’re dead

When these choices come to you, what ever will you say?

Will you take the high road out or will you run away?

Make the choices that they love, My Lord you’re looking great

Undermine the ones they want and soon you will find hate

Treat the people as you would yourself, and you’ll find fame

They’ll sing your praises, call you King, in everything but name

You Can’t Spell Fame Without Me

Sure a catchy title, no?

I mean its kind of right

Said before, I’m sure it’s so

But came to me tonight

 

Some day an agent reading a

Submission (one of mine)

Will finish it and be like “Shit!”

“This author I must sign!”

 

But then the intern (her name’s Pam)

Will come say “Time for lunch!”

As the agent says “Oh damn,”

Sets me back in the bunch

 

Getting back, she sits right down

And scratches her blank head

Says “Where was I?” with a frown

Then starts to tweet instead

 

Yes it funny, though its true

This tale that came to be

The future first is said like “few”

And fame, ends with a “me”

The Old Unknown Aristocrat

Some people get it, most people don’t

Some people will, most people won’t

Some people love, most people hate

Most people: good. Some people: great.

 

Maybe I’m the one who’s been mistaken after all

Maybe all this fighting’s a good reason for a wall

The more I see the more I hear the less I seem to understand

It’s almost like this world is pieced together and events are planned

 

Confusion is the currency they’ve built all of their kingdoms on

White homes do not host their crowns they’re places that they place a pawn

Puppets playing House is what we’re looking and we’re pointing at

And all the while he’s up there, the Old Unknown Aristocrat

 

We don’t even see all of the strings and pieces he commands

But he’s the one who wrote all of the things for which your flag now stands

His name: unknown. His work: unknown. He dodges notoriety

The master of this game knows this is how you mold society

 

Five steps ahead, he always knows which side he has to pick

Its easy when you know the things that make the people tick

This Old Unknown Aristocrat said of Earth, and all its flaws

If I control its money, I care not who makes its laws

No Pun Intended

I start and I end with a shower, all nude

Turned on is the water, so set is the mood

I put on my old socks, ever so slowly

I should take them to church cause my socks are so holy

But before this day starts, I must say that this chap

Shall first drop a deuce, ‘cause he don’t give a crap

Flip a coin in the well, but it wasn’t well-spent

Matchbox 20 disc broke; the damn album got Bent

Wrapped a fish in some tin, but my main course was spoiled

Too long did it cook, dinner plans were all foiled

Felt so lonely today, I bought some stock shares

Now I have company, so pull up some chairs

My last girl couldn’t see straight, she was sadly cross-eyed

We broke up when I heard she sees men on the side

The ex before would come home shouting, loud as a drum

When asked why she said “sorry, I scream when I come”

The girl before her wanted me strong, fit and stout

When I said no to the gym, things just didn’t work out

Once saw a suicide bomber eat so much on the road

When asked for dessert he said “I’m ‘bout to explode”

Saw a one-legged hitchhiker, so sad and so thin

I stopped on the spot, said “come on man, hop in”

Then saw this girl’s chest that looked swelled with disease

Turns out she’d been stung by a nest of boo-bees

My sis said the number of bad jokes I tell: myriad

“Your PMS jokes are not funny, Matt: period.”

Way down in a foxhole, I wrote poems before sleep

If I say so myself, my war writing was deep

A misunderstanding got me fired, I’d called right at dawn

Asked my boss can I please come in late? He said “yeah Matt, dream on”

They say French fries are French, but this one press release

Said “actually the truth is they’re all cooked in Greece”

My childhood Priest had two jobs under control

Fixing shoes on the side, he heeled so many soles

Saw Peter Pan as a kid but could not understand

How he flew all the time and how he’d never land

But that wasn’t my only dilemma, I say

If I knew why Earth rotates, it would so make my day

Damn – I must go now, big brother’s listening, you see

Those jerks are beginning to really bug me!