Wonder-Taken

Wonder-taken on broken breath

bracing for a white compact

the air was racing cold and cool

I felt the frame shake

the noise was mute,

my tanks on empty my seatbelt’s there

toes are crossed

my hairs are reared

the mirror’s fine

the taillights too,

I shove it and park

kick the brake and retort,

the smell of the airbags

escapes from my door,

The stranger I met

hugged me and swore,

thank god we’re okay

fuck, yeah we’re alive

My front light was smashed

but the ice looked so nice…

 

Before the Dawn

My favorite moments

lay close before the dawn,

sheepish hours of yesterday

clinging to the lawns

stillness laughs triumphant

and casts the birdsongs off

purple-lighted murals

enchanted by the stars

cloaked in desperation

longing for moon’s pause

shrouded with light’s gauze

in ever-changing awe.

 

Just Bustadelic Lyrics- *(Plans)*

Behold! EVEN NEWER Lyrics from my psychedelic funk blues rock band, Just Bustadelic. This new song is an older tune we are juster starting to rehash and I decided it only fitting to not only post the new lyrics here but a link to a shoddy video recording demo of a song written by our guitarist, Bill all about THELIONWRITER!

ENJOY!

 *(PLANS)*

You’re tied, to this scene, you’re in

swimming, daydreams, crashing

sour-cherried, secrets, roll in

so keep, your motor, running

_

No More Plans,

Cus they never come to be

And in that moment can we Seize

Who you want to be… (x2)

_

So tired, you can barely swim

thrashin’, in fake, oceans

and clouded, stars, teleporting

to make sure, you’re still, floating

_

And the moss shakes

open leaves to breathe,

and the sun still,

sets to greet the sea

and the bird flies

only on belief,

That life is planned to be

 

Just Bustadelic Lyrics- The GRooVe

Behold! New Lyrics from my psychedelic funk blues rock band, Just Bustadelic. This new song has become our favorite so far and I decided it only fitting to not only post the lyrics here but a link to a shoddy video recording demo of what is coming to be known as The GRooVe 

Just Bustadelic Lyrics- The GRooVe

–

Give me the answer please

We need a way around

this dream, and every sound

Is just a lie, you know!

Heard it on the news

we are the glue, in this world, and the next one too,

and the next one two

–

Well I’m afraid to lose myself my friend

and sometimes we may miss a step

but so did the best, and so will the rest

This isn’t life, This is a test…

—

Wake me, I sleep too much

Break me, a spark to touch

shows me, that I can love

my blood, can still run true

And I want it to,

get back to the groove

I can love too

And I should love to!

—

Tell me we can still groove,

Tell me that you groove too,

if you trip on your shoe

get back up and back to grooving (x4)

 

#sevenoclock

There are potholes in my floor

from all my constant pacing,

my pillows, all grown cold

from lack of me there sleeping

incense fills the air

and wavers like the evening

thoughts sputter to my page

to whisper lucid mute things

in ears that do not hear  for

morning work draws ever near…

and my pen begs me to stay there,

seven’ o’clock and my head is all but clear

WRITTEN ON 6:25AM, 2/13/14

 

#Writer’sBlock

I wait for the moments

to collide on the page

sitting in wonder

fists balled in rage,

Will words come easy or freely this month?

_

No,

they hide in my skull uneasy to jump,

to fall on my pens,

and become permanent,

and the heat from my stories

leaves writing singed,

melting mind’s quarries

and imagination.

_

Yet perhaps its the weight

of outdoing the late

or that passion deflates

when you have a full plate.

_

But when will my friction

ease writing addictions?

_

My fickle brains moves

but my pen doesn’t listen,

though my only intention

is remember my mission

to master all fiction

create new depictions,

feasibly make predictions,

to break this affliction

shatter constrictions

_

End this pitiless self-infliction!

_

With penniless thoughts that maybe show wisdom,

they appear from within and hope hands will listen

to christen

the given

driven vision

envisioned

that is missing

or imprisoned,

not yet written

but already positioned

_

To kill this writer’s torture…

…and forge a new author

 

Love is Imperfect

We love the love on our tv screens,
our home screens
And movie dreams-
We cling and swing from the love we see
Though expect our lives to follow these things
And tremble when the spindle
Breaks,
Shakes our faith
Makes us act instead of think,
To react to aggressive emotions
With potions we drink to create those motives
And how we escape them to derail us from totem
Poles, we can no longer climb
Holes we can no longer pry-
Pry from the earth,
Or burning a hearth that screams:
Perfection! Perfection!
If love isn’t script,
Then it must be infection…
What an idiotic reflection,
The pacing of affection
Is the way we care and dare to prove our spirits,
the only directions we move to spearhead bliss;
In this life
Or the next,
Love is imperfect
And that is the lesson.

 

Just Start Writing, Dude

Some inspiring words on blogging and writing from a coworker:

“Yeah, I have a blog but I kind of just suck at social media,” I say while folding a pizza box, “I wonder all the time am I supposed to just talk about my life? It’s kind of uncomfortable… but that’s what you need to get ‘likes’ and ‘followers’ and whatnot anyways, it seems.” My coworker laughs, “Yeah I find that part hard too, But nowadays it’s pretty much necessary.” We place out boxes on a stack and each grab an unfolded box from the ground he coughs and moves his glasses slightly upwards. “But you know,” he says with a hint of optimism in his voice, ” I think especially in writing its good to have that confidence to express the real personal aspects of yourself. I mean if we were to talk about all our favorite artists, musicians, and writers who’s work resonates with us it would be because they weren’t afraid to express the true extent of their souls. Things that come from experience come off as genuine even if the thought of gorging yourself on your own art is hedonistic; it’s real.” For a moment I star back in bewilderment, “Wow, you know that’s actually really helpful.” He laughs again and we stack another box, “Yeah man, just start writing, dude.”

~TheLionWriter