The Comeback Kid

Scholar, musician... just me. Plain blain

Herz Gestalten Koffer

There’s a bomb here that loves you, 

and it rests at your feet, 

Where powder tied charges, 

Signs never discrete. 

But when the ties meet, 

Hold on to what you can, 

Let go of the ground, 

Say goodbye and abound. 

Find Yourself, 

Upon a soft cloud, 

In the eye of the storm, 

Where surrounding darkness is found. 

There’s a cyclone here that loves you, 

but it gets carried away, 

it fights and in a hurry, 

Gives way to wind’s sway, 

If love e’er coveted over its stay, 

and finds its path to ocean, 

Where you’re dropped like a token, 

to its true love,

Blissful constant motion. 

Find yourself, 

if its for the beaches, 

in the softest of sand, 

Aboard ship to see, 

What sea its reach is. 

There’s a boat here that loves you, 

but it gives and it creeks, 

is tempered and weak, 

Soft in shape as it floats to the cape, 

as sound in structure, 

as balancing stones at the nape. 

The rudder dances in waters too sharp to escape. 

Smashing against jagged rocks too often, 

Can turn a sound vessel into a coffin. 

So you wake on the shore, 

and you’ve been here before. 

You are what you’ve seen, 

and where you never want to be. 

You’d rather be condemned,

Tied up in the racks.

The damsel you are, 

Throw yourself on the tracks. 

Nothing can save you, 

But you and for naught. 

Life’s as real as the pain we’re taught,

but it’s fine if the grave’s new. 

There’s a train here that loves you, 

made stop just to save you. 

It will take you wherever you want to see.

Make full stop if the treck makes you dizzy, 

And if you wish, set you free. 

But, you will return for travel, 

Coal transformed into diamonds, 

as the final destinations unravel. 

Ich Liebe Dich

Blood warms the ground, 

Without a body to be found, 

Feelings rushing to my hand, 

To crush our bones into the sand, 

The grit I need, 

To make the abrasion re-appear, 

The part you ripped away, 

My dear. 

Go Float around, 

Consumed by pride and greed, 

Belated we,

To the date I need,

By the company it brings, 

The freight of slate, 

And slight of hands over crates, 

Ordered from least to great, 

For the important date. 

Upon, in which, this box you hide, 

Bring the mirror bye and buy, 

eye to eye

Of I and mien, 

Of you and ihre, 

We are the same.

Pewter organs playing porcelain chorus, 

Chords eclipse the clicking of my throat, 

So coarse, 

As I sing to the howling moon, 

Who’s “Oh, so no show,” remorse, 

Presents your face

And in its place, 

My home retoyned, 

Swinging lines for grace of Lace. 


I knew a man, Bojangles / and he danced for you, in worn out shoes…

The only Bojangles I know makes the best Chicken Biscuits ever.