[SupaNova]

This one was a bit of a struggle to put together and I'm not entirely convinced the finished product was worth the effort.

But on the other hand, it is a pretty uncanny reflection of what today's been like.

[SupaNova]

Okay, I've got a couple days to catch up on........


Arms open, with passion on my sleeves - 4/21/09

If I decide to seek you,
Not with a rose in my hand
Or a title worth anything
On the New York stock exchange,
But with a pair of headphones
Worn more like a helmet
Then an accessory,

Would you still love me?


Breaking fasts on a Wednesday - 4/22/09

I feel for the guy
Standing behind
A Power Point projector
I really do
But seriously,
How does one pull
A forty-five minute lesson
From a dictionary connotation
About God’s purpose for humanity?

Thirteen weeks will take us
From hopelessness,
To victory in Christ (!(?))
(whatever that vague cultural cliché implies)

Forgive us, Lord, as we forgive those
Who idly swing at us

We’re trying, certainly.

[SupaNova]

A cappella style

Listening to an army of voices
Mimicking instruments
Reminds me that the world
Ain’t as a bad place
As we make it out to be
Ironically enough,
If it is
We only make it that way

[SupaNova]

March King - 4/24

No doubt, some people balked back
When you prophesied that all these
Recording devices and talking machines
Would most certainly be
The death of us
That is, “if you appreciate art”
And it’s hard to refute a man
Decked out in full military garb

Two hours from home and a lifetime later,
Like the resident of a Turkish prison,
I cling onto consciousness
In front of teenage musicians
Fingering a program,
I recognize your surname
Then wonder if you might choose
To modify your answers now
Lingering pain from my own
High school days reminds me
How fully glad I am, dropping a career
As an auxiliary percussionist in favor
Of teaching myself how to play the guitar

[SupaNova]

Come on! Get down with the Illness!

Fixing a boiling cup of caffeine
To pour down my raw vocal chords
A juvenile thought wanders in, uninvited:
Is it possible for the ordinary chap
To live in such a condition that is anywhere close
To being above the weather?
The view from such an outlook must be immaculate

[SupaNova]

Ode to the bridge builder (another mysterious pipe appears)

A
Modern philosophy suggests that there are quite possibly
An infinite number of ways to get from point A to
Point B, if you are really gunning for it
It feels like a fallacy should be close by
-------------------------
B
If a project’s progress can only be measured
In the number of corporate cogs needed to spin it’s wheels
[Or, in other words, the success noted in quarterly reports]
I might challenge whether such an endeavor is worth chasing
If it’s not carried out simply for the adventure of it all

[SupaNova]

Gesundheit

Life (quiet, moist) brews here
On my fingers like a weed
I need more tissues

[SupaNova]

Your New Favorite Hero

sweet talk, photo ops;
mankind’s dual Achilles heel
we dare not struggle

[SupaNova]

Emphasis on the 'kinetic' phrases

Something is burning down in Borden
A gang of good, country thugs
Gathering around a bonfire
Transfixed by the subtle yellow hue
It is tradition
It is a right of passage
Ensnared by a makeshift crate
A million tiny atoms scream promptly
Beneath the crackling of the fire,
And they are something new
In Plato’s Ether world,
They have a higher, an older calling now

My stepbrother turns the engine off
Before walking his girlfriend to her car
They stand out of the reach of rearview mirrors
Saying goodbye the way young lovers always do
So I recline, and begin a dream of Midland
(That is, of a certain young lady who, as far as
I can be sure, still resides there) before
Reality jolts me back into existence
Leaving the dream, and the high school parking lot,
Behind us

The a/c refuses to cooperate, so
Rolled down windows must do tonight
A shower awaits us, looming in the foreground
Heavy as Hephaestus, urgent as Athena
The smell of moist air and burnt ash mingle
It is not an offensive smell at all
It is the fragrance of unity

My stepbrother has this wacky idea
He wants to go see somebody in concert,
Anybody in concert,
But all of the good bands are in Europe this summer
Or on the west coast (I can’t say I blame them)
Really, he is looking for something like freedom
Or whatever he can get for a benjamin and a free weekend
All I want to do is turn the lights off, get over my allergies
And get back to dreaming against the halt of progress

[SupaNova]

Emphasis on the 'kinetic' phrases

Something is burning down in Borden
A gang of good, country thugs
Gathering around a bonfire
Transfixed by the subtle yellow hue
It is tradition
It is a right of passage
Ensnared by a makeshift crate
A million tiny atoms scream promptly
Beneath the crackling of the fire,
And they are something new
In Plato’s Ether world,
They have a higher, an older calling now

My stepbrother turns the engine off
Before walking his girlfriend to her car
They stand out of the reach of rearview mirrors
Saying goodbye the way young lovers do
So I recline and begin a dream of Midland
(That is, of a certain young lady who, as far as
I can be sure, still resides there) before
Reality jolts me back into existence
Leaving the dream, and the high school parking lot,
Behind us

The a/c refuses to cooperate, so
Rolled down windows must do tonight
A shower awaits us, looming in the foreground
Heavy as Hephaestus, urgent as Athena
The smell of moist air and burnt ash mingle
It is not an offensive smell at all
It is the fragrance of unity

My stepbrother has this wacky idea
He wants to go see somebody in concert,
Anybody in concert,
But all of the good bands are in Europe this summer
Or on the west coast (I can’t say I blame them)
Really, he is looking for something like freedom
Or whatever he can get for a benjamin and a free weekend
All I want to do is turn the lights off, get over my allergies
And get back to dreaming against the halt of progress