Smile For Me

Desperate Times Prose: Volume VII

A closed eye reach for my arm to keep you warm
I love nothing more than watching you fall asleep
Your skin, magnetizes my touch
I stroke your cheek
I see you smile
As I hold your face in my hands, I smile
I hold the world in my hands

Your peacefulness amazes me
I'm weary on my feet, but calm within your bed
I've never been the religious type
But even asleep, I see God in your eyes
There's a heavenly glow that surrounds you
Maybe I'm crazy; believing everything I think
But everything I think in this moment feels right

Lying in our blissful cocoon;
I can't help but fall in love with every part of you, all over again
I see perfection in your flaws
I know hope in your smile
I feel love in your unconscious kiss
and I rush to join your euphoric slumber

The Cardigans

Desperate Times Prose: Volume VI

The Cardigans

The Cardigans aren't what they used to be
Their style is weak and they have no substance

The feel, appealing in my youth, does nothing for me now
Wrapped in their embrace, I shiver

Failure to Perform

Desperate Times Prose: Volume V

Consciousness resumes.
I sit in a chair in a pitch black room,
My hands tied behind my back.
I hear approaching footsteps.
A door opens.

*click*

A spotlight blinds my eyes.
It is too abrasive. I must look away.
I hear mumbling as people file in.
It smells like business casual.
I see nothing but the same old panoply of colored darkness.
Specks of light shoot in to my eyes, burning my retinas.
Something inside me wants to scream or kill or perhaps do laundry
But the blacked out visions of melancholy horror continue
The void laughs
The void judges how I sit
I want to get out of this chair, but the footsteps grow louder and I recoil in fear.

The crowd chatter crests, then slowly subsides into a silent hum.
If only I could see through the silence
Footsteps approach in the dark.
An outstretched arm holds an object in the light
My hands are no longer tied.
It seems I am free to go but something compels me to stay

I am handed a guitar
I am handed dumbfoundedness
Out of the void comes a voice that says 'Do It.'
I hold the instrument in my arms and try to play something
I cannot strum, I cannot pick, not even one note
I look up, the void's eyes are fixed upon me
My knees knock in to each other like crazy maniacal chattering teeth

Quiver stuck, have no luck
They await something
I'm supposed to give them something entertaining
I'm supposed to give them something inspiring

I cannot see in front of me
I cannot see in back
I cannot seem to breathe right
My lungs seize up - My head disoriented, tells me I'm too tight to move

There is no guitar anymore
There is no void in front of me
There is only a dimly lit room
My hands are tied behind my back

I hear the sound of approaching footsteps
Fearful anticipation wraps itself around me tight
I know the crowd awaits me,
but I'd rather do laundry instead

Lead Pipe Baby (an election day story)

Desperate Time Prose: Volume IV

I was riding on my pony, spied some natives up ahead
I dismounted good old Betsy, we hid in the river bed
Took out my Smith and Wesson, taking aim I cocked my gun
But there’s something bout a head-shot, really lacks a certain fun

Within my sight I saw three cattle thieves, natives they were not
I could shoot ‘em now or kill ‘em close with a weapon I have got
Cause they’re ain’t no finer way to make a cattle thiever dead
Than with a swiftly sick sadistic, Lead Pipe to the head



Oh,
My Lead Pipe Baby, She’s colder than steel
When I hold her in my arms she makes my skin congeal
Whenever we go out, she makes her presence known (she screams)
Homicidal realtor, find a new cerebral home for me

I climbed aboard Old Betsy, my trusted noble steed
To pick a better spot to hide and place for her to feed,
Cookin’ up an ambush, silence covering my sight
I saw those bastards set up camp and pass out drunk goodnight


I thought I'd - Get em close so they could smell my baby cold as ice
The only - Swift sadistic girl I know who goes for human sacrifice
I walked along the tree-line, slow and steady, pipe in hand
Their slumber upped my pace my lead-pipe slaughter so began

My Lead pipe baby sends me for a whirl
She's my moral compass yeah now all I need's the girl
My Lead pipe baby Raised high above my head
She glistens in the moonlight 'fore she knocks the bastards dead

Oh,
My Lead Pipe Baby, She’s colder than steel
When I hold her in my arms she makes my skin congeal
Whenever we go out, she makes her presence known (she screams)
Homicidal realtor, find a new cerebral home for me

I Was Riding Along Heartbreak Ridge

Desperate Times Prose: Volume III

Heartbreak Ridge

Why you wanna break my heart
Why you wanna lose my trust
Why you wanna throw my love away
Why you wanna let me go

Maybe my touch was too warm
Maybe my lips were too soft
Maybe my heart invaded your space
Maybe my voice wasn't sweet enough

When were the times I was bad
Specifically, why were you sad?
Should I have held you tighter or kissed a little lighter
If I didn’t show then, let me show you now

But no, you’re spilling your secrets to somebody else
And his hand is warm like I used to be warm
But you don’t want my hand anymore
You don't need to be kept warm and all I want to do is keep you warm

It wouldn’t matter if I told you I hate you
Cause you’ve already moved on
It wouldn’t matter, bet that’s what you want to hear,
Give you an excuse to forget me, just forget me,

Cause I’m suffocating under your pillow of affection
If you really knew me you wouldn’t refuse me, you’d know how I feel,
How much I care, how I would share, how I'd change, how I’d do anything,
To see you

Rip these scars from my wrist, before I explode
Set me free, then I’ll be me, make me hate you for not wanting me
I see you happy, see you smile
See you having fun beguiling other guys, other toys, others kill me
Why are you so happy without me – why are you so free – what have I done to kill your spirit, that you must keep away from me

Smoke and Mirrors

Desperate Times Prose: Volume II

Regret Part I

What do you do when you're down and out? When you've been hurt and there's no reason for it; nothing you did. How do you deal with the pain of being hurt without proper cause? You find something, do something, to make you feel deserving of the pain. Who deserves pain? I don't know. If you hurt yourself you deserve pain, it's warranted. But what about when someone you love caused you pain? What can you do? You still love them - nothing inside you has changed - you still want them to be yours - But what can you do? When someone you love hurts you on the deepest level imaginable, where do you go? Who do you trust? A sudden realization, you've devoted yourself to an ideal that doesn't exist anymore. You find yourself grasping at straws, hoping somewhere in that person's eyes you'll find your love reciprocated. But when it's not there what do you do? What do you do? Do you hate them? How could you ever hate them, when you love them still, even after the immense hurt, the gut wrenching four in the morning screams of lonely agony caused by what... an ideal you believed in that doesn't exist? Something like that... SO what do you do? Do you hurt someone else? Do you try and love someone else? If you're still in love, how can you?
You want to break free, but you want to be pain free, guilt free, remorse free. But it's hard to be un-remorseful when you're greatest confidant decides it's time to move on. It's hard not to regret...

Look for more on Regret in our next post.

Till then...

Never give up? We'll try not to.

Miss Placed Affection

Desperate Times Prose: Volume I


When the dust settles on the field of battle, I am left alone. How long has it been since I've seen my love, weeks? Months? Years. I wouldn't have been able to get through the horror without the thought of her waiting for my return. I can see her sitting up by the window in the old rocking chair, knitting me a sweater, pausing every now and then to choke back her tears. This is what I imagine.
In all actuality, my love has probably forgotten me.

Would I were her, I would never give up hope. But hope is in short supply these days. I fear that my love; through with waiting, dissatisfied with my shortcomings as a man, has picked up and left for the coast.

With broken legs and heart I drag myself up the blood-soaked hill, searching for survivors. I am the last man left alive.

A wagon! A horse! I am saved. With great difficulty, I climb up to the driver's seat and strap myself in. My chest heaves, my head sweats, my legs bleed and swell with possible infection. My head feels heavy, my sight grows hazy and my heart; beats; agonizingly.

I can only think of her.

It grows dark, I must nearly be home...

Through hill and valley we travel, through cold winds and torrential downpour, never stopping. After an eternity, we pull up to my farm. My home. My castle. My love.

Legs torn to hell, I pant like a dog as I pull myself to the front door. Memories of my love race through my head, giving me the strength to go on. All I want is to hold her in my arms once more before I die. I call out her name - I hear a commotion. I drag myself upstairs to our room as fast as I can. Finally, I get to the door. I know she is waiting there, as she has always been waiting, full of love, for me. I open the door and there is my love, naked, in the arms of another man, some bastard Confederate soldier. In the arms of the enemy.


My love wears the ravager's gray cap. She screams with ecstasy. I stare in disbelief. Could her love for me have faded away? That quickly, that easily? What could I have done to keep her favor? I suppress my anger and feel a deep sense of misery in my chest. A lump in my lung migrates downward towards my heart. The lump becomes God and as He plunges his mighty hand in to my chest, He rips out my heart before my very eyes. He tears it in two and pauses. I plead, I beg, that I may get the full half, the half with some sense of meaning. God stares for a moment, then returns half a heart to me, empty, lonely, meaningless... Loveless. I can not live with half a heart - half an empty heart at that. I draw my sidearm and put the cold barrel of the gun to my temple. Even after I squeeze the trigger, they go on fucking; ignoring the dead man in the doorway.

I'm left in limbo.

All Along The Watchtower (Battlestar Galactica Style)

Desperate Times Song Book Series: Part V (In Our Ongoing Series)

All Along The Watchtower: Arranged by Bear McCreary

Performed by BSG composer Bear McCreary (conducting/keyboards) and a huge kick-ass awesome band at the BSG concert last April.

My new favorite version of All Along The Watchtower:

Ten Sides Of Chaos (preview)

I'm still trying to resolve the technical difficulties with the media player... Till then, check it out on myspace at www.myspace.com/desperatetimers

In the meantime, I will favor you with a poem taken from my unfinished apocalyptic play entitled 'Ten Sides Of Chaos'

It's a working title. Here's the poem:

My spirit burns with favor for you Lord
Grant me pardon from my longing
And when I’m thru wand’ring
Let angels lift my soul from devastation

Send me solace for my love has flown
Her care diminished not completely gone
Lord, take away my care and hers as well
Free my heart from this terrestrial hell