Poetry & lyrics. all rights reserved by jenny bates.
INTERNAL WARFARE - OCTOBER 5, 2013 |
the sweetest disaster - march 24, 2014 |
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Maybe I was like the rest
Taking and using for the gleam It takes awhile to let a newbie catch her breath With a smile like yours Once a stride was set I sought beyond the convention Your glance speaks volumes to those who take the time to translate. For a moment you may have allowed yourself To give in to what you most crave It's an inward battle waged first by others Ones that were at one time trusted. Do you really want the real? Yet having too much fun to take its grasp Or are you serving penance For past transgressions Damn those who've taken your glimmer only for you to replace it with cheaper glare. Paint it over with half-truths and leather cuffs Edged out those who care I blame them for a portion You blame them for a part Well honestly you blame them for it all But they’re never going to know it And they won’t end this war. They left it for you to want to wage alone. A peer into a chasm that light's not seen for a score. Is it too late to relight the pilot that's been neglected? Let me trace your name on my skin Show them you deserve it It’s the simplest war game password To blow them all away But you won’t pull the pin. A PUBLIC SHORT DISCORD - JULY 17, 2013Long haired and shallow eyed
Darting across the room I've seen you before can't place it yet Down the hall or in my tomb Why do you only stare Is the skirt a level enticingly so? Grab up your bag and take the seat Or am I your distant hoe? Wall it up Tear it down I see my way Through your crowd Wall it up Tear it away I see my life Come through a daze What's next to write about a time That passed like normal day Exchange of looks and wondering ifs But that's all you tend to say The encounter ends no more a blink A public short discord Change on the seat, this all there is Well now who's the whore? Wall it up Tear it down I see my way Through your crowd Wall it up Tear it away I see my life Come through a daze I see my life So many ways I'M NOT - SEPTEMBER 7, 2010I’m not sad – I’m just waiting.
Waiting for something I thought I had a thousand times over. This seat isn’t as comfortable I once made it long ago when seconds seemed longer. They flower quickly now. I’m not happy – I’m just trained. Showing others and myself the face I want to see. It takes more energy than before as there is less fuel in the soul to charge it. Fuel is scarcer these days. I’m not crazy – at least I hope not. Though craziness wouldn’t be too bad of a label. That feeling would be familiar, as I’ve crossed that line many times before. Repeatable newness might be welcomed. I’m not sad – I’m just waiting. And waiting shouldn’t be like this. IN-BETWEEN - OCTOBER 29, 2009What is it? that IT that is
Between love, lust and a mess The new, the once was The 'I've been here before but not in this way'-ness The tried to define but failed The reach for the list of other words not-so-often used. The beat that cannot stop the sole-vibrating kick. is that IT? But oh so softly breaking through that yonder crack in the stone wall that was meticulously laid. Someone get me a pick or a mace. Well he just handed me his smile. That'll do the trick. Break on through to the other side of the palabra race. Did I find IT? That easy definition? Maybe it is the IT that cannot be defined. Who wrote the book of lies that ironed out plans for love that eras have retracked? Who said that IT was this, this or that? Who forgot to teach the shades of gray to me and tell me it's okay to relish every pantone number? IT doesn't have to be this way. Check please in this search. There is better use of my rhyme. My apologies, For not following the starched journey this time. BECAUSE I'M NOT WELL VERSED TO QUOTE OTHERS - OCTOBER 18, 2009Laying in the unfamiliar bed, longing to be elsewhere
I came back to life this week in the Elsewhere I never desired before Full of nerves both yours and mine Full of smiles both yours and mine Quoted lines of beauty I recognized others Charmed and smitten with the new inspirer that entered without warning. The bell toll that chimed in my ears radiating reverberations to my core. What song can a tired heart sing from years of silence? A true one. A sweet one. One song that can remind its carrier that music still exists. Be strong tacit endings, don't just be along for the ride. Sing out a soothing, tender, blossom-filled aria And, then, calmly follow his lead. |
laying all of your sweet memories — down down down down
i could be the sweetest disaster you will find when all the world is around - you don’t know why i could be the only disaster in your mind running on the outside looking inside wanting more wondering if he’s out there never was there settle the score laying all of your sweet memories — down down down down i could be the sweetest disaster you will find when all the world is a round - you don’t know why i could be the only disaster in your mind keeping all the time keep while you deep sleep pass on the dime wanted someone to find me that’s right you were me too straight for the line laying all of your sweet memories — down down down down i could be the sweetest disaster you will find when all the world is a round - you don’t know why i could be the only disaster in your mind laying all of your sweet memories — down down down down i could be the sweetest disaster you could find when all the world is a round - you don’t know why i could be the only disaster in your mind i will be the biggest disaster for all time i am now the only disaster and you're --- mine (mine mine mine) STICK HIT HEART - JUNE 14, 2013I have a problem
Concrete as day. He wouldn’t play This part of me won’t fit the you Come take the fall Step closer near. Kicked out of gear Heart hand in mine turned up and blue Oh Get to this problem Be in there now. Please tell me how Hit sticks and tambourines make up your shout Blocked from the love It wants a try. It’s do but why And that’s just what this song’s about Oh Dear darling problem I’m standing near. Awaiting clear Want what those others can’t live without Do you know love Well sure you do. Forgot it’s true And now you know what the song’s about And now you know what the song’s about BE HERE - JULY 26, 2010Pleasepleaseplease be with me here, now,
On the same level, on the same playing field Step inside my world, my bubble It is yours too Without question without fear Match me Read my mind Feel my breath Just know And be Fully here with me Now Please RED ART - MAY 23, 2010This presence and tone have created a curio cabinet for me.I sit inside, contently staring, listening.
Please, let this consistent rhythmic regaling continue on. It reverberates brilliantly in here. His mind is a beautiful cataclysmic paintball fest of theory reason passion Imagination. The timbrous tones sooth. But this mind challenges my place. I now notice my entrapment. No friendly glasscutter to help me after. Please let him notice my worth. I can be more than the figurine in the collector's box. So afraid that my pigment is fading. Damn lacquer. Or is my contrapposto pose accurate enough to deserve merit? Shifting my weight and stepping forward. Putting my formed hand on the pane to reach for release. *click* Take me with you. As he pulls me out of the glass womb I feel real I feel human No longer wanting to just be from the mold I cast so long ago. Onward we walk through nature's man-made abundance. But will he be content with what I have to offer? Will I challenge him as much as he does me? Let us continue to discuss the red art and see. DARKENED ARTIST - DECEMBER 23, 2009Sitting with toes exposed and sun drenched.Watching my love darken in shadows and
place light where none was before. He is the artist. Might I be the muse? Piano keys hammer away via techno sources. I look at him if it inspires or detracts. He is focused, as am I. But on two different things. Distances we conquer, heartache and all. I am constantly thankful for the tie that keeps us bound. He is home. He is strength. He is wonder. Full of life. That is my love. VERSE FROM A SLEEPY COMMUTER (ME) ON THE F TRAIN - JULY 7, 2009I wonder if he's praying
Sitting on the subway bench busily alone He's layered and darkened Torn and ripped. But I think he's praying the way I should be right now. The lights fly by of stations past and he looks up, hands folded in somber solitude. So serene and at peace. Why can't I be at that peace place? I listen to Beck's lyric of the Lord not forsaking me in my Mercedes Benz and sit here with DvF luggage wondering if a graphic pattern on fabric really defines a person. Who taught me this ethic? I want to blame the media, the fashion mags I've taken an addiction to due to travel. Maybe it was the bubble I blew? Maybe it was the joy I dulled? Maybe it was the love I thought I had, didn't, yet wanted so much. He has an army surplus backpack. I used to carry one of those. Proudly, in fact. Praying man has stopped praying and relocated to another seat. For no reason other than he felt like it. I want to know what stop he's leaving me on for the sake of the piece. I may be disappointed. |
