Sunday, April 29, 2012

when the party ends

you went to a rooftop party, last night, to get your mind out of your slump
but you only found yourself looking for a good spot to jump
it's all over anyway, you thought with watery eyes
people think you're wise but little do they know that you're hiding in disguise
on the train ride home you contemplated his energy fueled lovin'
and now that he's gone the only thing you can do is keep on trucking
it's daylight now, as you return to your loft
birds whisper chimes to each other, the sounds are so soft
but your mattress is hard, your empty walls are hard, your heart : a rock
when he came he swooped down and bit out your insides, just like a hawk
you really start to learn how backwards the world is when you reveal your true love to be a faker 
you stand, exiled in the shadowy void, existing only with hatred
why do things gotta be this way? : you think
you were left there to cry, left there to die, left there to sink.
nothing but you and all your battle wounds
no desire or direction for anywhere light, some nights you just follow the moon.
he's somewhere out in america, somewhere warm
he's livin' in a pace as fast as the particles swimming blindly around in a dust storm.
yet your still living the norm, because that's the way he left you
you sit in his chair, stranded, hoping just anybody would accept you
you crack open another budweiser, you have no place to be
wearily singing "hey mr. tambourine man, play a song for me"
but such a tune won't even help
not even a tambourine man can save you from yourself
you sleep off most of the days to avoid despair
but the winter has gone, it's spring time and all that surrounds you is the love in the air
it's like 1,001 tiny knifes all trying to claim your life
you pray to a god you don't even know, just to get through the night.

Thursday, January 12, 2012


how are ya gonna catch the damn airplane

if ya can't see? you left yer glasses on my window

cill let's just hope those cute lil raccoons don't git

t them before you do, or even worse, at the same time

you do, they're known to go wild on thursdays and

they could make you uglier than you already are

not that it's a bad thing. you can always git a face

job. i'll get old uncle bilbo t set you up with his

surgeon. says it costs two chickens and some

sweet talkin. don't worry, you have a lot goin for ya.

clearly yours,

mama helmet

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Here at Sunset

you always want the one you don't have.
and the one that you do have is always there.
and the one you don't disappears as fast
as the long island railroad going past
and you wanna believe that everything
happens for a reason, like the myth of
demeter and her daughter with the seasons
but you just can't seem to get things right
no matter how hard you try, sometimes you
wonder if you'll even survive. and your friends
start to change but then you think to yourself " maybe it's me"
your falling far away from them like the leaves from the trees
in autumn. and the last time you saw them they
were hounding you bout your new style or new love
and sometimes you look to the sky up above and
hope you're a reincarnation of someone who was
so fantastic. but when you look down, you spit
on the ground cause you know that the world is plastic.
and at one time it wasn't and you're nostalgic of those
times even though you weren't born yet and to you
they only exist in ancient genius' rhymes.
like how you feel old poets are your only friends sometimes
and all you wanna do is cry but your tears don't form
you must have ran out of them during your last soul shattering storm
and then in comes someone who convinces you he's warm
but he's just the same, as him, as you as them
you learned to tell peoples motives by looking into
their dilated pupils. and it's always loop-holes and mouthfuls of
manipulated morons trying to kill the high your on.
and everyone starts turning into the big bad wolf, you're so sick
and you wish you listened to your mama when she told you
to build that house made of bricks, but now his breath flown you
and your drifting in the mix. and you fall and land on your head
and your clothes are shred. and you see a little cute froggy
but turns out your misled and then he steals the only thing you have left.
and you can't scream theft! cause you're so deep in those woods
and you'd do anything you could for things to change
because you're so fed up and deranged
with always being the saddest girl
and sometimes you wanna say "i hate the world"
but what you don't realize yet that these times, these places,
and faces, hover over every single page you write
and sometimes they kill you like an alligator bite
but you should takes these ideas and tie em to a kite
and let the clouds carry them so you're soul and the sky can reunite
you're words will marry the atmosphere, like when the day marries the night
when the sky turns orange.
- Marilyn Metzger
January 4th 2012