sid talks to birds

another musical story written as if t'were a song
another lack of contingents of space
that may strike a chord that went longer than seen
as it struck what is next on the lawn in between
... ... ...

he said she's an angel
i said she's the bomb
i find myself talking to spirits
whenever the stereo is on
brothers make words out of thin air
telling their stories in songs
i find myself clinging to ether
as eye script out another throng
of words and movement
that beg for more levels
of colors and wires and jazz hands... legs...
...people that see where the weight needs release
and where more friction can tame the beasts
that lurk in the shadows
along the way
as we tame the highways
and children that ride them
like seaweed that
dances in waves
inside the booth
they say sooth
what's the truth

the youth

one day in the lab and i had to ask at least one question
if not a thousand
she said rock and roll is a crazy business

marty said
welcome to the music business
you're fucked

standard ruck appeal leaves curbs
like curves in danger
rolling up my drive without an alibi
giving me a reason why
to look at you like a stranger
don't make me scream at my mama
get the fuck back in the house
because you think you recognize
my route my shout my spouse my snout
living behind an old cracked house
singing my stories in the dirty south

she talks to birds
that's the word i heard
we can all rest assured
there is not yet a way