Tag Archives: growth


4 Jan

when the lies became unraveled, I began to bleed

the truth re-opened every wound and cut down to it’s seed

and in it’s bright depiction, reflected in your eyes

the loneliness of fiction and the freedom that it buys

in the oddness of the evening, in a birth of flight

hurried by the palest moon and huddled with the night

like any bird born to it, high as heaven’s height

all around I saw myself releasing every fight

so now you can’t hold on to me

and if I come undone it’s meant to be

a mad hatter’s always there inviting me to tea

and I’ve got Cheshire grins a’plenty

and reflections all I see


I have nurtured my illusions and acted so naive

practiced long forgetting that I’ve seen what’s up your sleeve

I’ve stuck to rules that poison, like all good children do

abiding in the silence and I did it all for you

February 11, 1997 Copyright 1997-2010, brent david fraser, all rights reserved


31 Dec

Considering the new, the old, the in between, I go
To take a look at where I’ve been and where I’ve come to now
Another masquerade has ended and I’m off to run again
Invent a new one I’ll turn hope into again

I’m on this great divide, watching ships go by
Passing back and forth, I stiffen up and stay the course

I have no big surprises, just quiet compromises
I have as much as I would need, oh everybody knows
You’ve watched with puzzled glances, how I had all my chances
I never seemed to get there, but the ride has sure been sweet

In this game where I don’t know how to compete
And this history I seemed destined to repeat
Is this story I just can’t seem to complete

I’ve pondered every angle, every moment that defined me
I’ve introspected till I could turn in no more
Another made up personality would be the way to go
But I’ve forgotten now which one was me and what was show

And in this great divide, I’ve flagged down every ride
Missing every time the one that would be most sublime

© 2010 brent david fraser, all rights reserved


31 Dec

i turn around to see the moon, it’s dripping in the sound, like a warm cookie trickles tea,
i butter up my heart and bundle up my hands with holy socks that stunt the gesture of my plea,
along 5th avenue the monorail’s a snake through the wet snow that won’t hide my trails of tears,
my body’s tired like the breath of 20 slaves, and my dead man steps are colder than my fears,
but, maybe i’ll run….maybe i’ll run….

i start to drag, the pace is slower than the pulsing of my blood, like washing waves of wasted youth,
of all the corners and the crossroads of the world, mine is littered up with haunted graves of truth,
along 5th avenue the monorail’s a rope and i hang, while the cutting wind whips me around,
my body’s shoveled all it’s fire for me tonight, sweet libation’s liberation can’t be found,
but, maybe i’ll run….maybe i’ll run

a cruiser rolls, a bum extolls, a hooker polls potential takers, as the night throws down its cape,
i hum a funeral dirge for both parts of my soul, as the angel half is eaten by the ape,
along 5th avenue, the monorail’s asleep, like a grand ship that moors in ports of sin,
my body’s groping foor the mending of my sails, and i’m praying for my real life…to begin…
but, maybe i’ll run….maybe i’ll run

copyright 2010, brent david fraser, all rights reserved

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