ASHES

CAUGHT BETWEEN

LIGHT AND DARKNESS

IN A SAVAGE TIME

I TRIED TO GIVE MEANING

TO THE VOICELESS

AND THE DYING

I SOMETIMES SPOKE TO TRAVELERS

ON THEIR HAUNTED ROAD TO NOWHERE

DURING MOMENTS  OF INDECISION

LOST BEFORE

A VACANT SUN

ON AN EMPTY HIGHWAY

I BUILT MY FAILING

IN QUIET DESPERATION

AS I FOLLOWED LIFE TO NOWHERE

LIKE A CAN KICKED ON FOREVER

THROUGH THE JAGGED

FOCUS OF MY MIND

I LOOKED FOR

A KINDER FATE 

WHILE PAINTING

PICTURES ON THE SKY

BUT I NEVER KNEW THAT STARLIGHT

WOULD BURN OUT

BOTH MY EYES

OR THE BRISTLES OF MY BRUSH

WOULD TURN TO ASHES

Robert Parker Jameson Nov 2008

BROKEN

LOOKING OUT

THROUGH BROKEN EYES

I SEE THE BIRDS

IN BROKEN SKIES

THE YEARS HAVE PASSED

ON BROKEN CLOCKS

MY THINKING FROM

THIS BROKEN BOX

LEFT ALONE

ALONG THE SHORE

MY BROKEN SHIP

THE WINDS IGNORE

I WANDER NOW

ALONG THE ROCKS

MY THOUGHTS ARE BROKEN

LIKE THE BOX

BOTTLES DRIFT IN

ON THE TIDE

WITH BROKEN MESSAGES

INSIDE

AND I ALONE

THE WORLD STILL MOCKS

THE THINKER IN

THE BROKEN BOX

Robert Parker Jameson Jan 2009

THE SUITCASE

SUITCASE FILLED

WITH BROKEN DREAMS

UNATTENDED

NOW IT SEEMS

BROKEN HEARTS

RESIDE THERE TOO

WITH ALL THE THINGS

WE DID NOT DO

JARS OF TEARS

WE NEVER CRIED

LAUGHTER THAT

HAS LONG SINCE DIED

PROMISES

WE NEVER KEPT

COUNTLESS NIGHTS

WE NEVER SLEPT

FADED PHOTOS

FROM THE PAST

COMMITMENTS MADE

THAT DID NOT LAST

OLD RECORDING

OF A SONG

SILENCED NOW

BY WHAT WENT WRONG

PAPER BAGS

OF FOOLISH PRIDE

NOTEBOOKS OF

EACH TIME WE LIED

A FADED BUNDLE

OF OUR FEARS

CALENDARS

OF WASTED YEARS

THE SUITCASE STANDS

ALONE UNCLAIMED

IT'S OWNER ABSENT

AND UNNAMED

THE CONTENTS NEATLY

PACKED AWAY

ARE ADDED TO

WITH EACH NEW DAY

Robert Parker Jameson Dec 12, 2008

RAZOR BLADED DAYS OF HELL

MY LIFE ALONG THE RAZOR'S EDGE

NOT TO KILL MYSELF I PLEDGE

THOUGH MISERY AND PAIN ABOUND

THE SPINNING CRUSHING RUSHING GROUND

I SEE INSIDE MY BROKEN MIND

WHERE NONE HAVE GONE AND NONE COULD FIND

THE FROZEN CHILD WHO LIVES ALONE

PETRIFIED NOW TURNED TO STONE

I SCREAM NO SOUND FROM BLEEDING LIPS

MY TEARS OF DUST LIKE SINKING SHIPS

SEEK THE DEPTHS OF AGONY

BENEATH THE WAVES OF MOANING SEA

CRIMSON RUNS LIKE BOILED BLOOD

FROM IRON CUTS INTO THE MUD

OF THOUGHT ONCE THOUGHT BUT LEFT TO DIE

OF TIME RUN COLD WHAT LEFT TO TRY

THIS COSMIC JOKE OF MISERY

LIKE VIRUS LIFE SPREAD ENDLESSLY

INFECTS THE WORLD INFLICTS IT'S LIE

UPON EACH INFANT DOOMED TO DIE

I WATCH I BLEED AND SMILE AT DEATH

AND RANT AGAINST MY EVERY BREATH

I RAIL AT GOD I AM HIS STYE

KILL ME GOD I WANT TO DIE

THIS THE GIFT I SOUGHT AND SEEK

ACROSS THE VEIL AFRAID TO SPEAK

THE RAZOR BLADED DAYS OF HELL

MY RESTING PLACE I KNOW SO WELL

DIGNITY HAS SHUNNED MY FACE

BITTER SWEET IS ALL I TASTE

I STARE DIRECTLY AT THE SUN

MY EYES ON FIRE NO PLACE TO RUN

TAKE MY LIFE AND GIVE ME DEATH

KILL MY EVER PRESENT BREATH

LET ME GO AWAY FROM PAIN

STOP THE THINKING IN MY BRAIN

NOT SO MAD AS MADNESS GIVES

THIS HELL OF MINE WHERE SADNESS LIVES

I THE HOBO ON HIS WAY

RESENT MY EVERY WRETCHED DAY

Bobby Jameson August 17, 2008

I INHERIT BUT THE WIND

I INHERIT BUT THE WIND

EMPTY AIR AN EMPTY TIN

COBBLESTONES OF DESTINY

THE FUTURE WAITS DIRECTING ME

I THE PAYER OF THE TOLL

HEAVY BURDEN ON MY SOUL

I WHO COME AGAIN, AGAIN

I INHERIT BUT THE WIND

THIS MY SPACE AGAINST THE WALL

OF RECKLESS TIMES THAT COME TO CALL

ASK ME NOW WHERE I HAVE BEEN

I INHERIT BUT THE WIND

Robert Parker Jameson April 20, 2009

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

SWEET JESUS IS COMIN'

TO SAVE EVERY SOUL

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

THE SILVER BELLS TOLL

THE CHILDREN ARE SLEEPING

THE FIRE IS LOW

THE NORTH STAR IS BLAZING

WITH A LIGHT FALLING SNOW

DECEMBER REMEMBER

THE LAST SIXTY YEARS

WITH ALL OF OUR LAUGHTER

AND SOME OF OUR TEARS

THE TREES AND THE LIGHTS

WITH FAMILY AND FRIENDS

WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE

WHERE WILL IT END

NOW I AM OLDER

AND LIFE TOOK IT'S TOLL

I'M PAYIN' A PRICE

FOR THE GOOD TIMES I STOLE

I STARE OUT THE WINDOW

UNTIL I AM NUMB

MY SOULS NOT WORTH SAVIN'

AND JESUS WON'T COME

Robert Parker Jameson Dec 24, 2008

SPADE COOLEY RIDES AGAIN

WINGS OF AN ANGEL

ASLEEP ON GREEN MOSS

SINGING SMOKEY BLUES

IN A NEON TOILET

HARMONICA WINDOW

WHERE THE NOTES BLOW

SAXOPHONE SINKS

AND DREAMS END

SILVER BLOOD

ON AN ONYX FLOOR

MOVING TO THE RHYTHM

OF COUNT BASIE

STAND UP BASS

IN A SIT DOWN WORLD

NODDING OUT

ON UPPERS

A STREET LIGHT

ON A PINK BOULEVARD

WHERE MOTORCYCLES

ARE CHAIRS

SPADE COOLEY

RIDES AGAIN

AND DAYS

GROW SHORTER

IN THE NEXT ROOM

PIANO RAMBLINGS

OF THE POET

ARE STILL

SILENT NIGHT

ON AN EVIL DAY

LOUD DAY

ON AN EVIL NIGHT

SO EXCEPTIONAL WAS SHE

HER EYELIDS

WERE MADE OF GLASS

AND BECAME SLIPPERS

Bobby Jameson Mar 5, 2009