The world is a gun.
Aimed at the sun.
Running from no one
We came to have fun.
we thought we were young
that time was undone
that your world was mine shit,
well that’s just plain dumb.
Cause no matter who we are
or where we stand now
it will be different a year from now, any how
so how, do we stay the same
when peace through pain
remains in the mind frame of the insane
and wandering the drunk and the foundlings?
where we wanted to be kings,
we crumbled like paper planets
and dropped like burning buildings
we wanted it all but all was too much
now life is not love, and love is not life
and i am as lost as i was, before
but now this cylinder on my finger
is a trigger.
and i wish i could relate to what you want
but i am nobody’s fool,
i am my own, drunk or stoned,
blown or alone, behind a podium
or mic checking a microphone,
i am only as alive as the Beatles once were
and now my mind, sets lost and over
like a roller coaster, where time stops
at the good part, and rewinds and fast forwards
till nothing is left
but a good start.
We all had good starts, didn’t we?
So much promise.
So much open air for honesty,
but our love and history haunts us,
like old memories.
and the truth is. there is no truth.
we will always be
the odd.
the wonderfully scarred.
torn down.
I can’t even claim your sidewalk.
Even though I walk on it,
just to step on the cracks,
because illusion is a teacher
and confusion is my menace
and everything we wanted
is locked behind fences,
in storied suburbs,
where flowers grow slanted
or are picked
before ever planted.

breathe in open air.
close up before you leave.
A thousand chances left to dance.
and dance disease free.
play our history. press rewind.
the audio is out.
the windows are open.
the shutters, are for shut ins
and love for the chosen.

maybe i am not.
maybe i am.
maybe just broken.

The wool over my eyes is linen.
and it feels like the end,
but its only the beginning


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.