The New York Mess

(to be read in the form of "roses are read, violets are blue) :

The Phils are in first
the Mets are just trash.
I bet that it bruises
as we're kickin' your ass.

How does it feel
to have everyone hurt?
As even the Marlins
bury you in the dirt.

Now I won't show off
that the Phils won the rings.
Until the playoffs are here
and again we win the whole thing!

Don't cry as the Nationals
take two out of three.
Whenever we play them,
we make sure to sweep.

I still don't think Glavine
is out of the first.
And the hopes of all Mets fans
go from bad to worse.

Wright, Santana and K-Rod
are all that you've got.
Howard, Utley, Victorino, Rollins, Ibanez, Werth, Hamels, Lidge and now Lee.
Wow. We've got a lot!

I'm guessing Minaya
is just packing it in?
Well, there's always next year.
It's a new season.

The Cost of War

He was an 18-year-old volunteer
who swore that when he signed up, he wouldn't end up here.
In a six-foot grave in the shallow earth
with a date of death almost the same as birth.
And an epitaph that reads shorter than his name
as the rest of the soldiers try to keep their faces straight.
But after looking at his mother crying out to the Lord
our flag lost a star as the cost of war.

The house phone rang a little past eleven
"Will you accept the charges, a collect call from Heaven?"
"Hey, ma, don't worry, I'm through the Golden Gates.
There are no guns in Heaven, all the saints are safe.
I know when I left home, you wish I could've stayed,
but you need to stay strong, my little brother is on his way.
Now it's time for me to go, God's calling for me,
He wants to introduce me to his son, J.C.
But you know I'll always be looking down on you
oh, and one more thing ma, I love you."

She hung up the phone and held back the tears
the pain is unbearable, it will sting for years.
The only thing that keeps her heart at a steady pace
is that her son is safe now in a better place...

Left For Destiny, Right For "Just Give it Time"

I have the burning soul of a writer,
but the limbs of an honest lover.
I fight my nerves and bite my tongue and
after a seven-hour staring contest with the sun,
I'm wincing to see the road signs
Left for destiny, right for "just give it time."
I can't ride this old road out,
a dead end is less than a mile south.
I want to build a house where the right and left, they intersect;
where nothing but excitement can run through my bones.
I'd trade UV Rays for snowflakes any day.
The summer is so overrated.
For the past week it rained everyday,
go figure I love the rain, but I was in Tampa Bay.
I'd trade the green grass for philosophy class,
trade fifteen hours of daylight for just one more Neumann night.
I waited in line,
I have done my time,
just get me back to school.
Its a whole other life and a new adventure every night.
Almost halfway there now,
so where do I go from here?
I just want the summer, the longest summer, to disappear.
Every day has been the same,
ending when frustration turns to a scream.
To quote Death Cab, "I am waiting for that sense of relief."
But until that day comes, I'm obsessed with stress and grinding my teeth.
The gods call it leverage, I call it vengeance,
but my heart has become a gift-wrapped appendage.
So until the day when the school bell rings again,
expect my calendar to be my worst enemy, but also my best friend.
Tick.... Tick.... Tick.

Theory

It starts with a crush
a gaze from across the room
a straight face is all that is needed.
Two sets of eyes meet
and right away blinking feels impossible,
You're caught in a trance, stuck to one another.
Something inside of you; call it guts; call it your intuition; tells you to go for it
regardless of the outcome.
Whats the worst that could happen?
Who wants to spend their lives wondering what if?
Phone numbers are exchanged just as easily as smiles and before you know it,
you find yourself opposite of him/her sharing a meal.
Four months later, you wake up and
it seems like just yesterday that waking up next to him/her was only a dream.
It's all about trust at this level.
Keep the jealousy to a minimum, there is no room for it at this age.
Love is a tricky thing at twenty. Is this love?
Just a fling?
Who knows?
The only thing that matters is the two of you.
It's all about being with someone who will be there for you at the end of the night.
Who cares what your friends think?
As long as you see fireworks, every night is the Fourth of July.

The Most Beautiful Vessel on the Sea

She is the ship
and I'm at the helm
I'll captain this vessel
on its voyage through hell
Her ex is the waters
the ocean's not calm
crashing waves at our hull
but our vessel stays strong
Navigating the shallows
and shark-infested reefs
I'll guide my U.S.S Gorgeous
with the greatest of ease.
CRASH!
Ink meets tree... eventually.
Tree turns to paper
through a bunch of events
my mind's in another place
through this substance I vent.
It lets me say
what I could not otherwise
about the girl I have fallen for
I'd fall a million more times
She's perfect but I'm
not the only who sees
perfection's reflection
in her smile, her sneeze.
Her eyes, her voice
like a ticking time bomb
and until it goes off
I'll just remain calm
She's perfect, she's pretty
she's as sweet as can be
But she'll never be mine
something I'll have to see
Well, hopefully
there is plenty of time
maybe there is a miracle in reach for me.
Anyway, back to our voyage
and icebergs galore
I spin the wheel to avoid them
until my wrists grew sore
I want my ship to be happy
no matter the cost
I'll just be her friend
if captain's too much
But just always know
if she ever needs a captain
you know who you are
addition by subtraction
I'll be on the shore
awaiting your call
you're the only ship I want
you outclass and are the most beautiful of them all...

Wake Up Call

You straight-up lied to all of your quote, unquote best friends,
but they couldn't give a shit less
they would rather hate me instead.
Its so much easier to hate the kid who loved them so,
I'd do anything for those fucking kids, but they would rather believe you.
All you wanted was a girl to try and mend your broken life,
that your ex put on your chest, do me a favor and twist that knife.
You were kissing two girls at one time, doing whatever it takes;
but no one gives a fuck about that, they're just too mad at me.
I hope your tires lose their grip on 95,
so you appreciate what it is like to be breathing and alive.
You made my life a living hell
talking all that trash,
I hope that one day your best friend
STABS YOU IN THE FUCKING BACK!
You've made my life a living hell,
thank God I have the girl,
she saw through your bullshit,
and eventually... everyone will.

Hurts So Good

He had a long day at work
she has been waiting from him to get home all day...
"Come on baby, take a ride with me
you climb the stairs,
I'll climb the sheets.
The blanket's twisted up in my feet."
The rest could be censored by the FCC.
Their passion screams,
even louder and longer than she...
She gets a numb feeling in her toes
her lips EXPLODE...
His palms are sweaty,
her naked body exposed,
he throws on the comforter to shelter her from cold.
She gently squeezes him between her thighs,
it hurts SO good sometimes, not just tonight.
He gives one final thrust, one final fake pose
her mouth wide open, but eyes tightly closed.
Finally, the deed is done...
off goes dad to pick up his son.
He'd been at soccer practice all night,
now it's time to go home to the woman that's actually his wife.......

One Man Band

I was just freaking out because I misplaced my chap stick and it feels like the dead of winter outside.
Then I found a fresh stick in my school bag and it actually kind of made my day.
These be kissin' lips... not rock solid, but not so soft, a kiss would not be felt by another.
I would say they are just right...
Anyways, off my lips and on to the topic at hand,
ITS SO HARD TO BE A ONE-MAN BAND!
I write and write and write
until I can't write anymore
I play and play and play
but all the sounds I make bleed together as if it were all the same.
If only I had a drummer
my music could have a backbone
If only I had a second guitar player
my strumming could set the tone.
If I only had a keyboard player
I wouldn't have to make all the sounds myself
If I only had an accomplished bass player
to give the music itself the blues.
But there is one thing I would not change, regardless if I am good or not,
I would still want to sing.
My lyrics are my my lyrics
The messages in them, I want to bring.
My thoughts crystallized from pain to paper,
So much more than "I love her, I hate her."
From mind to mouth,
from head to led,
From heart to acoustic,
music born at the foot of my bed.
What do I do when I am bored in class?
I write songs and poetry until enough time has passed.
I want to be the one to sing their tune,
Whether they hurt, comfort, or are not even about you.
I don't write to rhyme,
the words chose me as to deliver their message.
And deliver their message I shall,
Whether by myself, with a full orchestra, or just a few close friends.
All I want is to make music that people use as their away messages
or sing in the shower,
One song or two to just relate to,
to engulf one's hour.
Something to stick...

I Want To Know...

I want to know what it's like to be innocent,

even sometimes right.

I want to know what it's like to solve and not just "start" a fight.

I want to know what it's like to be apologized to

and not just keep saying sorry to you.

I want to know what it's like not wanting to die,

rather to feel alive for this first time since Christ died.

There is no method to my "madness"

I spread my thoughts out, stop to think... then resume

only skipping lines for effect, or is it affect; I always get the two confused.

My hair doesn't look quite right;

I put on a few L-B's;

I've invented a new condition specially suited just for me,

I call it OCADHD.

Fuckin' mouthful, huh?

But that's all me on the outside;

hop on the Magic School Bus with the cheery, red-haired lady and take a trip inside.

You won't find any light bulbs going off or dirty thoughts running a marathon in my mind,

you'll find...

me.

If you take the time (something noone apparently has) to get to know me, I mean the real me;

you'll realize in the first ten minutes that I'm not like other people. Guys especially.

I am a mild-mannered young man

with a temper just the same.

I look at girls, women if you will,

as an honor, not a game.

I never toy with emotions,

I treat women with respect.

I'll remind you that you're gorgeous

every night before you rest.

Now all I can do is sit around and wait,

I've tried in the past to get what I want, but now I have to hesitate.

Its not that I'm afraid of rejection,

I've gotten to know it over the years, I still don't like it,

I've tried and tried to get the girl,

but the feelings were unrequited.

Same SHIT, different day.

Keep on trucking...

Quitting is harder to break than a bad habit.

It's a snowball a or e ffect; again, I believe it's the latter (shame I can't just go with emphasis).

I'm just me... Greg... with only one "G" at the end

I won't rush into anything because you can't be lovers without first being friends.

You can't make love if you're not in it first...

But you can break love

It's hard, but fragile; love breaking rather than love making brings out the worst.

I'm just me... Lover, fighter; whatever you want to call me...

Just remember, my name only ends with one "G"

I Fear I May Be...[Insert My Shortcomings Here]

Let me set the scene for you...
Imagine Walmart going out of business and the "roll back" smiley face turning upside down;
That would be one hell of a frown.
That is how unhappy I've become.
Sometimes it feels like a sharp needle burrows into my chest like a gopher,
I lose my breath, but I find it in pictures of the "old days."
I stop to remind myself that this pins and needles feeling in my chest may hurt, but it is a blessing in disguise because the needle is filled with air and it fills my lungs back up. It keeps me going, ticking, breathing, living.
But hey,
at least I am breathing.
And until the day I'm not anymore
I'll search the Heavens, search the core.
The Earth may have it boundaries, but I'll overstep them.
A race with fate;
to find the missing piece, like a million-sided puzzle, to complete me.
To end said race.
It's not a race down the alter, I'm not trying to fight the future, I AM somewhat scared to die...
What if God forgets about me?
See, now I'm rambling...
Sorry about that! I'm still a young kid, only 20, my path of life is still a long one, but I can still see the finish line; I just have to learn that every race, even life, has a finish line.
Back to my original point and purpose; what was it? Oh, yeah! I remember! My unhappiness! YAY!
I was always taught that misery loves company,
so why won't anyone comfort me?
I'll cheer up; fuck it, I AM happy.
Why be so down? Its so much easier to smile than frown; fuck Walmart! Frowning hurts the corners of my mouth.
There are SO many things I want to before it's my time...
One. Write a musical
Two. See the Flyers win Lord Stanley's Cup
Three. Get married
Four. Have kids...
I fear I've become to vague and unoriginal at this point.
If anyone out there has a few minutes to spare, send them my way. Twenty four is just not nearly as many hours as I need in one day.
I love the rain, Canada and curly fries...
if anybody else out there does as well, then it looks like God remembered me after all!
I deserve to be happy and some girl out there deserves to be lucky. You know who you are...
And I know who I am...
rambling, vague and unoriginal... Any takers?