What ever it is
it is
What ever it was
it was
ain't no season
ain't no reason
We were just
doing the best
we could
Lives
blowing in the winds
doing what we thought
we should

The earth it
twirls
We were just trying
to make it
through the day
putting together
some kind of way.

What ever it is
it is
What ever it was
it was -
Ain't no reason
Ain't no season -
Just doing the best we could

Memory will tell
us lies about
the way it was
Memory sometimes is
on our side
Memory sometimes has lots to hide
but either way
What ever it was
was exactly
the way
it was

Every time I walk
down that line
melancholy's gonna
sing the blues

It just is what ever
it is
Just is what ever
it was

I guess that's okay with me

There is no reason
There is no season
We were just doing the
best we could.

I have read
the poem of your life
as I have lived
my own.

You are broken-hearted.
You are lonely.
You are defeated.
You are in despair.

So be it.

Embrace your pain.
Hold it close.
Surrender to it.

If you evade
your suffering,
you lose your chance
for joy.

Joy lives on
the other side
of suffering.

Wake up each day
and soldier on.

Show up for life.

That's all there is,
but it's a lot.

~mce

and should this night find you alone
staring into the abyss
shivering in the chill of hopelessness
fire the candle
dip the quill
and speak to me
for i await your solitary tear
your desperate moment
giving rise to the beauty that cries
deep within the soul
of the poet

those sweet feelings of love
are oh so fleeting

the daily grind
can grind you down

and your love like dust
plays a duet

-with the wind
just outside your reach

Warp and twist reality
Into fantasy
It's so easily done
In my mind
I don't bother to differentiate anymore
It's not worth the energy

like a puzzle piece
That doesn't quite fit
Until by pure brute force

It snaps into place
Like it was meant to be there
It's cozy new home
With a long lost (s)kin

But very difficult to dismantle
Once in front of the fire
And the warmth
It never had
Will never leave it

It's cold out there

Collages of stars
that sustain
some Western Dream.

Living off of tuna cans,
there's my dream, stumbling on the floor:
the carpet reads 'HAPPINESS HAPPENS'.

I write better when I don't write
with a sense of purpose.

You'd think there'd be more to it.
But no. It's just words, man. They can only
take you so far without your feet.

And it may be to me
the same that is to you.

The rain outside, I open the door
& let my loved ones shelter inside.

And just like that,
with all the mercury in my blood,
I leave the door opened.

Do prefer love
over the complicated questions.
A blindfold is
the only truth you should care to know.

Desire for my body to warm your soul
& reach out for a fire that won't burn.
I'll wander our souls to places
where rock rolls all day long.

Unplug my cruel heart
and leave the good side
to rule over my deeds,

and all I'll ask of you in the between
is a fair song
& the sound of your laughter
blowing in the wind.

But if it gets hazy & distant,
I'll do what I do best:
I'll rewind the road
& walk over the old one.