Archive for June, 2012

the bottle is empty

but it always was,

always was.

and somehow the thing that i think might save me

never

never

never

does.

oh baby, don’t you know

that i’m the thorn in the garden,

but i am the pretty rose, too.

only a fool would ever think the summer might last

or fall in love

fall in love

fall in love

with you.

the bottle is empty, the sky is too,

and i cut off my hair cos i was angry.

i never could explain the things that i do

except to say, i’m sorry, i was lonely.

the bottle is empty

but it always was,

always was.

and if i tell you that i love you and you ask me why,

i’ll cry and tell you

just,

oh just,

honey just

because.

berlitz

Posted: 06/10/2012 in house of love

love is like berlitz, babe.

before i knew you,

(what was that about? how could that even be?)

i spoke enough to order lunch

or get directions,

but now i learned the language of you–

your face,

your ways,

your love coming back to me so fine and flowing.

it’s berlitz, babe.

the way i adore you come rain come shine–

i know it by heart,

sweet on my lips

and richer for the knowing.

boneman

Posted: 06/05/2012 in house of love

boneman bring

his toy, old ratty thing,

squeaker gone, head hangin’ off–

thick with drool,

cos he has just loved mister flops within an inch of its life.

mama, i love you

is all in his eyes,

he come and give me

that shitty damn thing like it were made of steak and hunnerd dollar bills.

oh, boneman,

mama love you too,

sure as the sun gonna shine on sunday

you better believe she do.

i gave you honey on the biscuit, babe,

and seven sons in seven years;

i gave you honey on the biscuit babe,

and seven sons in seven years;

but when i gave you a darlin baby girl,

you said, “what you mean by this mess here?”

cats are creepin in the barn,

bible’s open in the hall;

cats are creepin in the barn,

bible’s open in the hall;

smoke cat stare you down and kiss

her fire kitten in the straw.

there’s somethin burnin in the fields,

pass those buckets from the well;

there’s somethin burnin in the fields,

pass those buckets from the well;

i’ll take my baby, go to San Antone,

and you can go to hell.

______

for real toads blues challenge.