Confessions of a Lier

Our lives are but a means to an end.
a chosen lifestyle
carved out of a forced existence.
We’ve become too self involved to change.
We pass the buck,
and we use people.
Afraid of love,
angry at the world,
and disappointed at the way our lives turned out.
We live a fictitious,
vicarious existence that we’ve created in our heads.
Cigarettes embezzled from James Dean.
Words lifted from Fante.
A lifestyle mirrored from Bukowski.
These are the confessions of a liar.
So forgive me father,
for I have sinned.
And the worse part is,
I enjoyed it.
When I told her I loved her,
I didn’t.
When I told her I’d die for her,
I wouldn’t.
When I told her I was her knight
in shining armor,
I really meant I was the Trojan horse
that would break her heart.
I stand before you purging these lies
and self denials.
A broken man,
damned by his own volition.
Deliver me my penance
and let it be known that I have sinned.
Let it be known that I am a sinner.
Let it be known that I am the scum of the earth.
I wear my brand;
this scarlet letter,
with pride.
May Peter show me the mercy
I have never shown.
And may we be delivered from evil,
Amen.

Untitled

When did the world become this difficult?

When did deciding which shoes you put on

this morning meant the difference between life and death?

Some people say it was when we were banished from Eden.

They say that was the first day we were really alone.

But I don’t think that’s it at all.

The second we become aware of ourselves,

is the day everything changes.

We could be five or fifty,

it doesn’t matter.

‘Cause life has a way of hitting the reset button

every so often.

Everything you’ve built comes crashing down

on you in one fell swoop.

Sodom and Gomorrah, Rome, your life.

So tonight when you lay awake in your bed

all tucked in, or when you catch your

reflection in a mirror,

you’ll think of all those irreversible decisions

you can never remake.

The son you could have had,

the woman you should have married,

and you’ll think of the smile you lost.

But this is who you’ve become,

for better or for worse.

So tonight while you lay face up remaking all your

irreversible decisions and imagining yourself

with your blushing bride

or at little league practice with the son

you could have had;

remember that it’s never too late.

So rise with the morning sun and know

it is better to have loved and lost then to have

to live alone.

Morning

The crisp clear morning

brought a new hope.

The ability to restart;

to forget.

The whisky burned

as it slid down my throat,

and the cold wind

kissed my cheek as it passed me.

A clear California morning,

with the stars in full bloom

and a screaming heart.

I sat on those steps

and counted the minutes to dawn.

Until the rest of the world

woke up to this new beginning,

this new day.

And for those few precious

minutes…

The world was mine,

the stars were mine,

she was mine,

life, was mine.

Blue Blood, Blue Heart, Blue Collar

Memories of beer and cigarettes,

cheap whisky and even cheaper rooms.

The memories make me long

but they also keep me content;

grounded to this savage place.

I wouldn’t call them the

hardest of times,

but rather they are the monotonous

trials of everyday life.

The symphonic, yet tragically

beautiful crescendo of

the working class.

A slow build to an exhausting

peek of mediocrity.

For every low there is a high,

for every smile there is a tear.

And if struggle is what defines us,

then we are modern warriors.

Blue collar gladiators.

So I raise my glass to all those

who finished last,

because life itself is enough to celebrate.