Today is the day! When absolutely
nothing will happen. It is the time of year
when the mountains look so close by but
they are just kidding, especially about the snow. The snow
seems to have an opinion on everything, including
the upcoming presidential election. I am voting
for legalizing marijuana and banning greedy capitalists
from breathing. The stripes
on my jacket coincide with
the flannel that is stuck to your shirt and by jove
I will unbutton every single button
on the shirt that is stuck to your flannel.

-lbr

Untitled Song

When your picture frame fell
Off the wall the shattered glass was
Sharp and cut a hole in my arm
Just below the elbow and the

Blood ran down my wrist and wrapped my
Fingers in a sticky scarlet
Mess then dripped down to your shattered
Picture frame and stained your smiling face

Looking back at me with poise and grace and complacency
You never meant to rip the apple from the tree

And when the mush inside our brains
Drips out and stains the pavement
We will scrub and scrub until no
Trace of what we thought or felt remains

To change the world or taint the game
The rules will stay the same
The pavement will stay clean and folks will
Be content to let bad music play

On the radio, everybody sings whoa
But I think it’s time to take the shit out of the show
On the radio, everybody sings whoa, oh

Well I believe that there is love in the world
But it can be a real cold place, especially in the winter.
But if everybody frowned then there’d be no one to wrap their lips around mine
And I’d be frowning with them

And when the music in my mind
Is inked on paper I lose track
Of just what I set out to say
And something else takes over

Guides my ball point pen from line to line,
I’ve slept inside dens of lions
And the sounds they make while sleeping
Haunt my dreams and fill my mind

With a terrifying mess of less important things
Like ripping apples out of trees and broken picture frames and what they mean

Well I believe that there is love in the world
But it can be a real cold place, especially in the winter.
But if everybody frowned then there’d be no one to wrap their lips around mine
And I’d be frowning with them

Pony parades
Ribbons weaved in their long tails
High steppin’
Like the drumline practicing
Knocking their beats into the ground
All
the
way
down
to
the
lava.
If a pony
is a small horse
then a mitten must
be a small slice of
the glove-mitten-minus-the-fingernails
combination plate
You can add a soda for 99 cents.
Don’t forget
that the padlock must be securely
fastened.
Fastened as securely as you would
on an airplane.
Just in case of a crash.
A crash!
The horror.
The horses will rear up
and make
horse noises
and forget about
The glove-mitten-minus-the-fingernails
combination plate
They will fly off
The likelihood of a 99 cent soda
on a dial
will decrease
to zero
All will be lost
without
horse gloves.

-lbr

something i wrote today

I'm writing this spontaneously
With no editing or drafting
Because I usually drastically
Unwrite the songs I love,
Replace them with bombastity,
Words that nobody would ever, ever think of.

First verse, introduction
This verse sets the stage:
A world filled with nothing
'Cept man and his imagination -
Broad enough to think the thought
That anything means something

But some men live realistically
They see the world for what it is
Some men live cynically.
They see it for what it is, too.
Some men live blindly and happily
While others are calloused and blue.

Inside of me lives each of these men
They battle and rage for face time
But I manage to stretch my mind,
Dreaming of a world looking up.
Somewhere must exist a way to be happy
Somewhere there must be a half-filled cup.

a.l. knox.