Oct
12
2002

Out of Hand

by Stephen Messer

I don’t know about the things
you have left behind.
Every time I look at you
I think you’ve lost your mind.
The way you did the things you did
Got so out of hand
all out of hand
all out of hand
all out of hand

Every chance I took on you
It was just the same
I wonder why give in to you
and your pathetic game
All of your life is a mystery
All of your life is so strange
All of your life is a mystery
All of your life is to blame
All of your life is a mystery
All of your life is to blame
Every time I look at you
I don’t understand

If there is another life
where I won’t be this way
for now all my time is so lonely
on any given day
If there is a time for me
I would like it now
‘coz I refuse to go on this way
for as long as I’m around

I don’t feel the way I did
I don’t feel the way I did
I don’t feel the way I did
I don’t feel the way I did

I don’t feel the way I should
I don’t feel the way I should
I don’t feel the way I should
I don’t feel the way I could

posted in Social, Songs | No Comments

Oct
09
2002

Have you noticed?

by Stephen Messer

Have you noticed my
humanity
Have you noticed that I’m
searching for the same thing
Did you feel your heart of ice
When you searched for this fight

I could be your biggest fear
I could be the blame
But your leader has no idea
of how to stay in the game

I have noticed his
banality
I have noticed that
he doesn’t want to be free
from the war he wants to wage
His only political saving grace

But history will frown upon
a race as powerful as yours
that couldn’t be part of a world that now
we’ll just have to mourn

Have you noticed that
I’m the same as you
In a never-ending search
for whatever is true
So why support one who feigns conviction
for democracy
When he stole his own election
from what the people did need.

And the laugh will be upon
a war-mongering fool
Who gave up peace to take the world back
to a darker age
and who forfeited a planet’s future
to his inner rage

Have you noticed my
humanity
It’s what we have in common
and what we both need

Have you noticed
have you noticed

posted in Social, Songs | No Comments

Sep
15
2002

Too Serious

by Stephen Messer

I went back to the start and
found we hadn’t really come that far.
No cares or worries should there be,
but that just is not me.

It’s all too serious.
It’s just too serious.
I’d erase all my actions
Is there satisfaction?
It’s all too serious.
It’s just too serious.
Too many distractions
to find satisfaction

in this delerious
all too serious
face you’re presenting me
This race to where
you think you want to be

And in the end, when we’re back at the start
and we’ll look at the progress made this far.
And life just is not ever the same,
but that’s all just a part of the game

It’s all too serious
It’s just too serious
Get a reaction
for some satisfaction
It’s all too serious
It’s just too serious
Too many distractions
to find satisfaction

In this weariness
It is so mysterious
the things you do to me
in this place that’s where
you think you want to be

a place where we want to be
a taste of where we’re together and free
a place from where we can start again
to taste the freedom for which life is meant

and in the end, we’ll celebrate the start
and learn from mistakes made this far
And in the end when we remember the start
We’ll see that we’ve lost sight of the fun

Life is too serious
It’s way too serious
I’ve lost all direction,
Causing my dejection
Life is too serious
It’s way too serious

Life is too serious
It’s way too serious
I’ve lost all direction,
This is my dejection
Life is too serious
It’s way too serious
But upon circumspection
I may feel the affection

In all this weariness
This love’s so mysterious
you’re here; you’re here with me
Welcome to where
You know you want to be

posted in Introspection, Personal, Social, Songs | No Comments

Aug
23
2002

Icy Winds

by Stephen Messer

The safety of the self is not assured.
There has been a lingering depression
that will not allow one to forget
the eternal glistening soul,
suspicious of all
the icy winds
that have blown through this heart.

I do not drown tonight, in love or lust or oceans,
but take a middle-aged path,
fighting between
the maturity of who I can become,
and the joviality of
who I once thought I was.

A deepening future
slains the wanton foe called age,
lying deep within a self I’ll some day cast aside
and reflect upon.

The tempests sway the mind
into directions other than forward;
a buxom foundation
of whom I fear I will become.

I see my heart giving away
peaceful moments that come
with fallen songs.

I doubt myself for the familiarity
of who I really wasn’t,
gesturing to the one I would become
to hold back,
look into the past
and never lose myself
in a future.

Uncertain as the darkest hour,
the dust settling in and rising
again to cloud a vision,
irritate a throat,
die a death
that is as certain as tomorrow’s sunrise.

It is with the gratitude of age
that I regret
having faced all I have
severed from this life,
all I will take apart.

The icy winds still blow through this cold heart.

posted in Personal, Poems, Time | No Comments

Aug
23
2002

Facing Myself

by Stephen Messer

I have tasted
the freedom of the ocean
the freedom of the waves
that set me apart
from those who
weren’t riding them

I have tasted life
at its sweetest;
life at its most
incomprehensible point of
satisfaction
and understanding.

There are times when
that moment I would forget.
But in remembering
moments such as those
Life turns and becomes
another part of the experience
that is everything I want to be.

I have faced waves
I have faced oceans
I have faced rivers
I have faced mountains

I have faced myself
in the face of these
that nature would
present to challenge me

and lost though
I am at times

I cannot but face
the reflections of myself
from which I would run
From which I would hide
and to which I will focus
all attention possible.

It is this life that I lead now
one of many that I don’t remember.
It is this life that brings about
the change in what I will remember.

It is the moment
I have felt
when nothing else
is of any concern.

It is the moment,
the moments of my life
For which I yearn.

I have lived,
and I have surfed
and I have loved,
and I have grown
and everything I feel right now
is a part
of all I am.

posted in Introspection, Personal, Poems, Time | No Comments

Aug
05
2002

Robbery

by Stephen Messer

Stolen back, the wealth orients me to who I am.
I am not recognized as things I own;
I could have drowned in the waves with board,
and those things stolen would not have defined me.

It is the eternal slavery to things I am;
Uncomely, but fact.

When taken from me I realize that
they have been taken from me…
but the me hasn’t changed
(but for the realization).

They would take our heads and shake,
amaze the pallid faceless action,
the cowering indifference that dispersed my wealth
among others who would be defined and
recognized as their acts

of thievery.

The cargo of life I carry is dispensible,
and shapes me thus.
But only cargo; it is nothing the drowning would
think of in those last desperate moments.

I think of a soul that to a savage place will go,
but do not think of me.
I think of the acts
that dispersed material wealth,
and left me with a gift of realization
that harmony is not a part of the
huge empty thing
that is this civilization.

posted in Personal, Poems | No Comments

Jul
21
2002

Voices

by Stephen Messer

I understand the friend this long afternoon
and meet again the struggling voice in my head,
the stranger that appears to me only, as truth.
An individual seeming apart from me, my hate, my love and I.
An individual whose voice constantly pervades my thought,
invades my head, groggy and bright,
expanding within me out of control to where barriers cannot be
put up or extolled,
the voice inside takes it’s toll.

I meet a self-assured debt of pervasive thought.
The meeting goes well; we negotiate, these thoughts and I.
My consciousness like white waves forever reeling in
does meet the sand with almighty crashes.
The negotiation goes on, I lose ground
to those pervasive thoughts that passed gently, now abrupty,
unstoppable,
within my head.

And why the head? Are these thoughts in there?
I continue tasting myself,
the rhythms are asking me to continue
to blame and collapse in gratitude for their untimely demise.

This is not meditation; far from it.
An outraged voice calls out of me, a point now passed
the return to which I cannot see.

Joy is gone, it ends what I am,
and points to what I will become.

posted in Personal, Poems | No Comments

Jul
21
2002

c fmaj7 g f am

by Stephen Messer

I haven’t felt this way before
And I don’t know what I’m doing all this for
When The time just doesn’t seem that right
Here I am alone this night
But all the time we’ve spent together I haven’t seen you here
But all the time we’ve lived together I don’t know what it means

But all of the time I spent today
And all of the dreams have passed away
But I don’t what I’m going through
and I haven’t felt this way
I don’t know what there is for me today

And you are the one that I live for
I don’t where I’m going here before
I don’t what the meaning is tonight the things you say are right
all the time you spent for me now
And all of the love and the dreams we’ve lost
I havne’t felt at any cost
But all the time we’ve spent for me alone
I am alone I do not know what it’s for
I am alone I don’t know what for
You don’t know where I’m going through
I haven’t seen the one to do
and you don’t know

You don’t see what’s going on inside of me
I don’t even care what the dreams they meant
For it’s all to be in heaven spent
and I don’t know what you wanna be right now
I haven’t seen the loss we had for a long time
you said tonight
and all the time
I do not now about now

posted in Personal, Songs | No Comments

Jul
16
2002

My Place

by Stephen Messer

There is no triumph in the mountain summit.
That victory lays trembling
behind the instinct that took me there;
compelled to reach the passion of accomplishment:

the instinct took me there.

I saw that place and found myself
weary, but without sorrow.
No moments set aside for pain just yet;
time would come to experience this.

I seized the moment of arrival,
satisfied with all there was.
My path travelled on the wheels of life
Was not the recompense I sought.

Learning to sing the praises,
live the dreams,
feel the passion
that oceans and mountains can sustain.

I want to travel there again,
to race towards untimely suffering
endured thus in pleasure.

Endured by the instinct that took me there.

I climbed and found the hill my mentor,
teaching me to play with life.
Allowing me not to give in to the
competing instinct
that would have had me
avoid the dream,
stay in the room,
and sleep a comforting,
hollow
rest.

But in challenging the mountain I have learned
things I never thought alone I’d face.
The mountain was not challenged, it was I.
I’ve been brought to a new realization,
that I’ve done it now–
I’ve found my place.

posted in Nature, Personal, Poems | No Comments

Jul
06
2002

Disturbing Night

by Stephen Messer

There was midnight and it brimmed over in dark solitude
as the river flowed to laugh with me.
Its babbling, raging, thundering heart
suffocates and sustains the rebel in me.

A pale though wanton night, dark as it had seemed,
eyelids torn from their roots to stare at this midnight peace–
a perfect union of a sky and mountain,
of snow and moon, of white on deep gray-blue steely hue.

The dark solitude laps around my head, my heart;
I sink into the feeling of shame that cold nights had once blown apart.
What is the universal law that takes away those shattered dreams
that teach one to prepare for those empty
yearning years we dread?

I don’t give in to the laugh, the pale sky.
These unsatisified eyelids close in defiance of the beauty
they had previously let in.
It’s all the pale sky
and river beneath this perfect night can threaten.

There is no truth larger than that from which I hide.
There is no message more meaningful than that given by this night.
I bend beneath a star flecked dream and touch the earth again.
My pain and hollow breath flicker in the night’s seductive gaze.

posted in Introspection, Kisner Collection, Nature, Poems | No Comments

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