Burrill Strong Something to say? Send me a letter - or - Sign my guestbook

A - F G - M Halfhearted Grin Honey, Ain't It Great In Brooklyn In Our Own Mind Looking Glass More or Less N - S T - Z Etc. Halfhearted Grin 9/13/99 the cleaning lady says i'm wasting her time says she comes and does nothing at all but i'm wondering just where she's been all these years i'm a mess, as i recall been searching for someone to tell me i'm free but i'm losing my will to survive if all that you'll give me is a halfhearted grin i'll declare myself half-alive well, giving the time of day isn't too hard but it's harder to give what you get and if getting is all that you feel you can do this life'll be a painful fit experience teaches a nasty lesson about going where you don't belong it's required learning only once for us all and the teacher's never wrong been searching for someone to tell me i'm free think i'm closer than i was before if all that you'll give me is a halfhearted grin i'll remember you're one to ignore life sure has a talent for keeping the pace but it's easy to stand here and wait i hope apathy isn't your specialty, yeah death isn't a swinging gate Honey, Ain't It Great 7/26/99, revised 1/6/99 livin' the veto down around the kitchen floor seein' as how we're nothing less, i guess we're nothin' more makes me wonder if we're somewhere down the middle past the edges is alive, but sometimes you gotta die a little sold out or sellin', i guess there's no difference i've seen where we're going, and it's not a coincidence but all this aside, there's a flat tire waitin' down the road and all this aside, i think i've paid more than i ever owed hearin' the road just beneath my old nightmare it's closer than it seems, but i can't tell you it's unfair i've been asking for some way, just one way to live and dyin's no better when you have to forgive i'm somewhere between us, when truth is elusive and demons are neighborly, and angels reclusive it's out there beyond me, yeah, i see it right there you're out there beyond me, and i hope you can care it's half past your laughter it's a quarter past too late it's the joy, peace, and patience and honey, ain't it great who's standing beside me, is it my alter ego come to give us the story, come to put me down nice and slow am i under orders or do i have my free will is the door open wide, or do i kneel on the windowsill? the heart of the lie ain't a fact, turn it loose it's a piece of the devil, it's a five and dime noose turn the page of the notebook and read what you see give me secrets from inside me, give me what i need is it now that i find you've been here since the preface i've been eatin' my dinner when it's time for my breakfast blind mistakes, yeah, i know 'em, i've been their sustainer i've been searching the cabinets but ignoring truth's container if it's true that i've seen it, that it's been there before me then maybe i'm not as bad, then maybe i can see open my eyes and find truth with my name on it reach out and pick it like eve picked and ate it but instead of finding eve's hive she set free it's all turned around, and this fruit is just what i need instead of the pain heaped on eve's sorry head i'm losin' all my sorrow, got no regrets for the life i've led it's half past your laughter it's a quarter past too late it's the joy, peace, and patience and honey, ain't it great In Brooklyn* 5/23/00 mother at the window father in his hat and coat there i am with brush in hand and palette i have known mother in the middle father standing on her right there i am on mother's left with palette by my side mother with her anguish father with his traveling case there i am with spattered clothes and palette void of grace i have my spear i have my shield and mother hangs like vivid fiction father stands apart from me in brooklyn is a crucifixion mother at the window father silent as she cries there i go with bags in hand and palette by my side *Read Chaim Potok's book My Name Is Asher Lev. In Our Own Mind 1/31/99 and the train has jumped the tracks of never-ending words of active apathetic truthfulness but our mortal songs of happy-ever-after will be ever more the truth in our own mind through an empty plain of excess desolation all the promises from yesterday's regrets bloom to flowers of another sort of heartache while the death extends the lifetime of a lie smiling for the picture gives the world an image that belies a grim defiance of ourselves lies replace a feeling of belated blindness but the irony is hiding in the past if our shining declarations speak of nothing and our truthfulness has seen its own demise all the words that speak of happy-ever-after cease to placate every fear we hold inside and the moon is speaking volumes to the masses but the sermon hasn't ever been unknown to our mortal songs of happy-ever-after which have always been the truth in our own mind and the train has jumped the rails of never-ending words of active apathetic truthfulness but our mortal songs of happy-ever-after cease to masquerade as truth in our own mind. Looking Glass 12/1/99 there's a man up there who's hoping that you'll see him he's been waiting just beyond the overpass heaven's standing on the shoulder with his thumb up and his sign says "won't you eye my looking glass?" see decaying buildings looking at a streetlight standing tall, but it gave up on life itself there's a soul just waiting down there in the darkness with a hope that can be taken off the shelf look in storefront churches, see who's selling jesus by the yard, the pound, the minute, or the gross "got a great old deal, salvation for a handshake you just come inside, i'll show you how it goes" preacher says he's not the man to show perfection but he claims to know the one who says he is got a skeptic tellin' off the preacher's maker "hey big man, i got no time for all of this" "got no time," he says, "for none of what you're sayin' it don't pack no punch, don't hold me any sway" "say you got no time," says preacher, "but i'm patient walk on past the door, but i'll preach anyway" see the blind man doing less than window shopping thinks that store's not good enough for his two cents sees the dollar store and says "hey, there's my bargain" but the paradise they have is just for rent there's no hurry on the street, just empty walking see no evidence of life that's moving past but there's heaven on the sidewalk with his thumb up and his sign says "won't you eye my looking glass?" More or Less 4/21/99 something's knocking but the doorway has escaped me and the ringing in my ears hasn't left but the suitcase that you packed for my departure stands to carry everything i regret it's nothing more more or less i confess there's a greenback there to aid me in my failure seems to me it should have browned long ago let it singe me and i'll wake up by tomorrow did you really say you want me to go? it's nothing more more or less i confess from the hallway i can hear the conversation and i'm finding that it's all about me but the gist of what's been said is far from happy so i guess this is a bad place to be it's nothing more more or less i confess on the staircase there's a carpet laid before me and the color seems to be a deep red it's a hint, i know, but can't you be more subtle? one-way signposts don't leave much to be said it's nothing more more or less i confess.