time.

okay, so....
old friends.
reconnecting can be a good thing,
right?
then why am i feeling like that little girl i was back in 4th grade?
i mean,
some i am eager to see.
some,
not so much.
old feelings emerge.
old recollections.
old pains.
old smiles.
i am a different woman than i was.
definately not the girl i was.
a myriad of feelings overwhelm me.
without them,
i wouldn't be part of who i am today.
hard lessons learned,
hours of crying,
loads of great times,...
sweet moments,
and moments of harsh reality
when one knows that they must conquer the peter pan syndrome.
time rolls on,
like the tide.
never ceasing.
somewhere i heard the saying that time heals everything...
no the hell it don't,
to put it rather ghetto-ly.
our pasts are like bits of scars splattered on our souls.
some will always be raw and festering.
some,
a battle scar that's only purpose is to serve as a memory.
and the inevitable few that will heal up,
only to be sporadically picked at by karma,
so that it's sting will remind us of the pain.
no,
time does not heal everything.
it is,
however,
kinda like the bloodclots that help form the scabs.
so i say,
that even though i will be a grown woman walking into that reunion,
on the inside,
i'll still feel like a little girl with skinned knees.
but that's okay.
it's those skinned knees that give me my strength and bring a smile about.
its those skinned knees that will give comfort to me.
so,
to whomever said that time heals all...
i say,
fuck you, motherfucker,
fuck you.
(strangely,
even though i have NO idea who i said that to,
it feels damn good and quite empowering.)
peace out.



There are ladies in my life,
lovely ladies in these lazy days.
And though I never took a wife,
may I say that I have loved me one or two.
Of the people in my past,
fading faces in a waking dream,
and though they never seemed to last very long,
there are faces I remember from the places in my past.

I said all the dead head miles and the insincere smiles.
Sometimes I can laugh and cry and I can't remember why.
But I still love those good times gone by,
hold on to them close or let them go, oh no.
I don't know,
I just seem to sing these songs
and say I'm sorry for the friends I used to know.



Well I'm a tidal pool explorer
From the days of my misspent youth.
I believe that down on the beach
Where the sea gulls preach
Is where the Chinese buried the truth.
So I dig in the sand
with my misguided hands
and if I dig deep enough
Hell I just might dig it up.
Talking about treasure
Talking about pleasure
Talking about love
Now I'm a reader of the night sky
And a singer of inordinate tunes.
That's how I float across time
Living way past my prime
Like a long lost baby's balloon.
So I hang on to the string
Work that whole gravity thing
But when my space ship goes pop
Back to the earth I will drop
Into the sea
Or the limbs of a tree
Or the wings of my love
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Maybe invent me a story or two
I've got coastal confessions to make
How bout you
How bout you
They say that time is like a river
And stories are the key to the past
But now I'm stuck in between
Here at my typing machine
Trying to come up with some words that will last.
It's so easy to see that we live history
And if I just find the beat
I know I land on my feet
I always do
Hadn't got a clue
Does it comes from above.
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Maybe invent me a story or two
I've got coastal confessions to make
How bout you
How bout you
Let's go to church, Sonny...
[Bridge]
So bless me father, yes I have sinned.
Given the chance I'll probably do it again
I don't need absolution
Just a simple solution will do.
So let's talk about the future
Or the consequences of my past
I've got scars, I've got lines
I'm not hard to define
Just an altar boy coverin' his ass.
I know I can't run and hide
But just hang on for the ride
There will be laughter and tears
As we progress through the years
But still it's fun
Hey I'm not done
Gonna dance 'til I fall
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Maybe have me a boat drink or two
It's just the coastal confessions I hear
Tell the truth
Tell the truth
I've got some coastal confessions to make
How 'bout you,
how 'bout you,
how 'bout you,
how 'bout you
And you, and you, and you
42 years since my last confession
Well father, do you have the rest of the week?
Let's get started
I had impure thoughts
I smoked some pot
Stole some peanut butter
Father, wake up.