There's a blind man on the corner
That keeps staring at me
As the dog that's sitting by his side
Keeps whispering in his ear

I know their talking about me
Cause the blind man keeps nodding his head
I'm not paranoid or anything
At least I don't think that I am

I keep straining hard to listen
But to many words do I miss
At this very moment
I wish I could read dog lips

As if this couldn't get any stranger
A bus pulls up to the curb
Out steps Wayne Newton
And before he utters a word

He pulls a cat out of his bag
With a sharp chill on the wind
The cat and the dog both hug
They appear to be the best of friends

As if this is not strange enough
The blind man drops the leash
The cat picks it up
As he and the dog skip off down the street
Where they're picked up for jay walking by the Chief of Police

Wayne Newton gave a concert
With the money we paid their bail
When it came time for their release
They were no longer in jail

All there was was a tunnel
With a blank note left behind
Cause everybody knows
Cats and dogs can't write

Last that I heard
They had a Villa in the South of France
Where they took in blind mice
And taught them all how to dance
Which started a new dance craze called
The "Blind Mice Dance Like They Got Ants In Their Pants" Dance

though we try to escape
this unkempt world
with its busy streets,
yelling men on street corners,
random outbursts from the impoverished,
advertisements peddling
face creams and running shoes
and lotteries and fried foods,
the noise of it all,
what silence do we hope to escape to?

a beach with sunset?
i can hear the wind
against the trees, the splashing
of these waves before me,
the birds, they're calling their
night songs, i hear laughing in
the distance,

what of empty church?
i hear the echoing of my footsteps,
the creaking of aged wooden benches,
and if i concentrate,
i hear the gentle flicker
of that row of candles, the
***** rings of past hymns,

what of padded isolation cells?
panic rooms, artificial solitude?
cling to them like supermen
only for emergent use,
close your eyes,
let the black envelop you,
meditate, if you know how,
relax, beyond earthly possessions...

when that mind begins to wander,
as it does, it's mandatory,
hear that voice inside your head,
telling you to stay focused?

telling yourself to stay focused
only starts the spin of things:

and then you hear the beat
of drums, african tribal rhythms,
or phil collins at the start of
"in the air tonight"
or the strings, is that pachabel?
i hear the start of "the sound of silence"
as if my mind is mocking me,
i hear the voice of my mother,
there's my father,
they're beside me and it's christmas,
i hear nat king cole,
i hear the sound
of knife through turkey,
i hear laughter,
it's yours,
i hear the sound of my
fingers as they run along your skin
and get tangled in your hair,
i hear a heartbeat,
direct through chest, then through
bell of stethoscope, i hear
the rocko's modern life theme song,
i hear thunder, i hear rain,
i hear the splashing of my shoes,
i hear the gravel, i hear cars,
i hear the city, the random beeping
indicating when to cross,
the sound of garbage being thrown out,
of doors opening, slamming,
metal against metal,
i hear applause,
after successful landing,
i hear recycled air above me,
i hear it all,

everything is right here,
there's no such thing as silence,
and that shouldn't be a problem,
in fact, i think it's beautiful.

Something so serene about standing on the pier
While a beggin' street performer sang stairway to heaven.
Although not my favorite Zeppelin.
It was magic.
The wind carried the melodic tune.
That was it.
Everything and nothing.
One moment out of a million.

I hated the wind,
And the cold but,
In that moment I could see us there,
Growing old.

Your smile gave me warmth.
The closeness set me on fire.
In that instant,
I've never been higher.
No pipe, pill, or drink
Could make me feel,
Or make me think.
And I have to say.
It was one of my best days.

Everyone says love comes with pain,
As if its impossible for there to be sun without rain
But to me, that just can not be right
For love is good, purer than light.

What hurts is when that love is gone.
That is when you wish you could run.
You want to catch it, hold it, keep it.
But trying to hard will only break it.

Do not blame love when you are broken
For it's your own fault for always hoping.
Love does not hurt, it heals a broken heart.
For its the absence of love that tears it apart.

Do not blame love when you are in pain,
It is not the sun that makes it rain.
Instead blame the person who took love away
That's how you were broken, there is no other way.

I always wanted a treehouse
somewhere to escape
to a world that might someday be
something like
those fantasy books I'd read.

A place where magical creatures might finally approach me
and take to me on an adventure
And my life would finally begin.

My dad and I built the treehouse
from remnants of an old porch
with a giant glass window
to look out from
and see the passing deer
the chirping birds
that one white tree in the distance

One day I heard noises
Looked into the backyard
Saw a group of boys jumping out of my treehouse
I thought it was locked.
Went back there
only to find the glass wall in shatters on the ground.

A new wall was built
out of wood
but by then I had outgrown the treehouse
and moved on to other dreams
that wouldn't live up to my expectations either.
But I keep on wishing.