beyond the grave like lazarus

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those blues

Good night Irene good night

the layers if relationships in life in the dark and in that midnight

I'll see her in my dreams about an hour ago that's right when you were yelling

and screaming at each other

Here's your damn tickets he said

Get out and never come back

That's what I said Irene

That's right

And nothing left but our emptiness

About desolation and lonely

Like you in empty apartment rooms

Long and long away from her

Let's fight like the damnedest

And forget it all happened

Be sure thats just the way

It works Irene

Because I'm saying where did you sleep last night


Girl of wretched existence beating the brains against walls and steering wheels from a distance

In those pine trees wrapped in silver on translucent highways and byways

On skyways Irene

In pines and tapestries

Electric woven in the darkness

With out on brand of madness

Given away for nothing and our own destruction

Yelling at each other for nothing Irene

Singing for nothing and tore and cut each other because of where did you sleep last night

Up in those lines that look down on us from that plane as it gathers in the fog and the rocky flight

There we were together

With memories like rages and current as you go against it and against each other over and over again like physical displacement furthering that current of destruction

Of pines and memories

Gave to me

It was ever apparent

In that look she gave me

Oh Irene. It you saved in that moment that I thought them damn dark thoughts about you Irene like you were gone and never to be found buy only in my dreams

And darkness of demented sexuality

and Of emotions

Never to be uttered

But together again



Where did you go

About a longs ways away from here did you go

Up in the darkness sky

In those electric lights

Seen from an aeroplane

Over that city in them pines

And on those lights of a million highways and byways

Where did you go

And when are you coming back

Probably not for a while

My my girl

Dont lie to me

It's going to be a while I know

Solemn rainy night in Georgia

Long days work

Busting your ass for what

In what angle

Can't really see it

Lonely over telephone

Can't really get at life only live it

In true tones

Different people everybody

All jumbled up

Thrown together

Sometimes not understanding

But still there existential

Moments are there


To and fro

You go like a loop


People talking

But alone


Listening to music

Talking on the phone again and again

With your own problems

Tearing you apart

But still there in those hushed tones

Of this life moving and you giving only to be taken away

A watcher of this life

In the bus

At work going

With your family away

Over phones and videos you see

Life but do you really or a forced

It's raining outside

You cook and clean

For the self

Everyday occurrences

In a new South lonely

Trivial existence

In a blurred tapestry

You are caught


I'm a city like back in the day

It occurs to you

But it leaves you before you get there completely

Alienated from the most basic human afflictions

Love and pain

Over blurred lines

Fleeting relationships

Mere acquaintances

Many faces

But get along in spaces

Away from each other

Buy maybe that's just me

In hushed displaced tones

High out of your mind

Because of what you can't remember

Songs on repeat as you go to work

Body on repeat as you die slowly and are afraid of everything

About it

Anxiety of modern occurrences

Violence of what to come

People can't see


To the real occurrence

Judge for what is real

But you can't because you are blind


And out if touch

Comic in relief

Fathoms of your own mind

Songs to your own mind

On the way to work

Silence in your own head

Alienated from ones own body

And scars

Keep in all together

So you can keep it from falling apart

On your drive to work

Tired and worn

Displaced at your own existence

Tortured soul

Forgotten sworn forgiveness

Solace in your car

Solace in exhaust fumes and

Anxiety and your own loneliness

Cast in another light

Cast so that you might truly understand what it means

To do this everyday

worn down blues

feeling tired and worn down all the time

all the way down to the ground

almost in the grave

or is that just how it is after being driven down by life

tortured and subdued

clawed and restored and sorted too

its always there when you go down

its always there when you see for yourself

how this thing really works

when you see what life is really like

when your in this life

for what seems like not really that long

because its not really

its but a short little journey

to nowhere


and nowhere for too long

until your thrown back in the grave

sentenced to a short and rather lonely life

you see how it is

your burnt down and then your on down gone

going forth to somewhere but you just dont know where

its somewhere

in the sky

and in the darkness

probably not that far away

maybe closer than you think

an unkept place

maybe just like the lonely room where you are now

you own personal tomb

for the wayward and the lost amongst the brow

a place in this short life

to get away from it all in its shortness and impropriety

and disgusted contempt and love you have for the world

in which you invest in and sentence down upon you

and you know about directions in this life,

and you know about the empty death things that is there

an empty vessel

the skeleton

that is the march of sweet time

placed but no really heard

worn down

fathomed in currents

and placements

just like you thought it was and given to the proper authorities

you might one day meet your maker

if you trust in the maker

if he or she doesn't deceive


but you saw him

he was displayed in an empty vessel

he or she is you

you are the empty vessel

like the walking dead you go about life

driving in your car

something hustled up

in a blur

those directions

and those decisions about where its all going

and thats what you thought about

when you were meeting friends who you havent

seen a while

you were thinking about those directions

the curvy and listless current of this

life as it wounds

around your thumb

and expending itself

and releasing itself,

in those winding currents

and you thought about this as

you sat on a friends couch

and you thought he was dying the other day

as he texted from his hospital bed

a friend who is alone

in some hospital bed in the city

that city of damn many people

who dont really give a damn

those blur people

and we talked about the old days

be gone days

good times

but talking how life catches up to you sometimes

and nothing you can really do about it

just is what it is in that blur people

highways and apartments

like mists in the darkness

both worn down by life,

in this blur and out of the element

out of tune

with that moving on

but talking about those days that went behind

as you made those decisions

and you lived with themselves but we are out of sorts and hanging by little threads

on these highways and blurs and torments

to you and demands upon you and given to you

because you are the one living

this life and not someone else

as you carrying on because you have to

because its what everybody else does

as you sat on that couch

and just talked because you havent seen each other in a while

and there you were

and both of you still alive

and your friend out of the hospital

and you a living person

not the zombie in his tomb forever presented himself

disgusted at the mere sight of himself

rolling rocks up hills and back down again

presented with his own mortality but disgusted with his own presence

falling down and inward

given way to nothingness but

but there you were still living in amongst the blur

talking about them old days

sitting on couches

struggling to get by

things closing in on youngsters that arent young anymore

and having those scars of life led

and on screens



like bits

and in cars

in neighborhoods with families

and you with you friend from way back

with scars on your faces

from the life that you have lead

and bleed out and given up

all the course of the years

that are showing on both your faces


old Gs from days gone by

sentenced to the curses from the decade that was

still players in this game

still hanging on for something

trying to make it in this world

and even though we changed

and done grown up and moved away

and came back

and still grasping and

still hustling

still meeting different people

on different jobs

but still have love

for the game as it is played

poorly and without remorse


like ghosts that don't know each other

ghosts over computer screens

that get into touch

with each other from the years

and those people that have moved

on with families or died, or great or gay

or straight, but have changed

for it all

faces like yearbooks that pass

changes but still young

and in them days that really dont seem that far away

like a blink of an eye

on this grind

that is life, that is trying to kill you

trying to place you in the grave

and you think you have moved

on and you think you have changed

but maybe you havent as much as you think

as you talk about looking at yourself in the mirror

and not recognizing that person for who he is and what he became a lot time

ago in them wild years, over the years with scars to prove it

as you laugh about some shit

and forget about some shit

tell yourselves some shit to keep it all moving on down the line

invested in the future like you were invested in the past

and maybe not at all

but changes shit,

its been a lot

but maybe none at all

hard to say because all these years have passed

lead you on down the road

running from the curse

running from whats coming

and always coming

even though you try not to see it

as you tell your friend, that young G

that is now old and out of sorts

looking for those decisions and wondering where his

life all lead too,

in that hospital bed


and wanting connections

in them old days

over text

over something that didnt exist,

something that was there, in those youngster days

as you talk about it

and just glad to still just be living one more day,

changes shit,

there they are, as you go back to the grind that is killing you and killin us all

making us fat and happy and decrepit

but it is what it is

and what it will always be


like scars showing us where we been

but more and more alone everyday

and wondering where the time went

and if we can have it back

a longing for them days

a longing to go back to those days

but they are gone like memories and blurs

in highways of lives and decision made

in this worn down life,

grinding life,

two young G's

played out and changed, wondering where the time


it went away and never coming back

just in scars and worn down faces

of friends,

in angry rants, on telephone and over text

about the shit that is going down in this world


all alone,

in this blurred out world

and not understand

and trying to find that direction

but there isn't any

its just life

gone past,



  • 1
thanks johnny. always appreciate it man. thanks again.

  • 1

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