Tag Archives: Indie rock Poetry

Show Poem: I Am A Butterfly / 7-03-14 / KC, MO @ recordBar w/ Wussy + Admiral of the Red

I embrace emerging experience.

I participate in discovery.
I am a butterfly.
I am not a butterfly collector
– William Stafford

I have been screamed at many times for just doing my job.
I am a butterfly.
There is a limitless supply of me inside myself
I am not a butterfly collector.
While seated at the kitchen table I finally understood you.
I am a butterfly.
Toenails appear to have stopped growing.
I am not a butterfly collector.
The doctor says jerk it every day
I am a butterfly.
Look another rabbit.
I am not a butterfly collector.
I am so tired but what choice do I have.
I am a butterfly.
Arthritis in my left middle finger.
I am not a butterfly collector.
It is love. Is it addiction? Is there a difference?
I am a butterfly
As long as I can still play guitar.
I am not a butterfly collector.

Show Poem: Anger Is Not Love / 6-12-14 / KC, MO @ Davey’s Uptown w/ Folkicide + Estocar

Stupidity is not rebellion
Listening is not losing the fight
I know you’re scared
I know you need something to believe
I know you feel alone
It’s frightening
Fear leads to anger
Anger feels like passion
I know
Feels like living
Feels like power
Almost feels like love
But it’s not
Love is not anger
Anger is not love
I learned this from my lover
I learned this from my mother
I learned this from a dog and a sheep and a Grover
Turn the radio on
Turn the radio off
It doesn’t really matter
Stop hating the radio.
Stop driving it around.
Stop letting it drive you.

Show Poem: Dance Class / 4-12 &13-14 @ Double Trouble weekend: Replay Lounge (Lawrence, KS) & The Brick (KC, MO)

Mama’s got a squeeze box
And Papa’s got a brand new bag
And You were right when you said I might have to, some day,
Fight For my right to party
The party cops are a real thing
The anti party “Party” is in full effect
They will make us all pay for their lack of skills on the dance floor
But  “No” my friends
We are not judges
We are teachers
Our class room is the dance floor
Our chalk boards are our wiggly asses
It’s not about skill
It’s not about obeying rules
There are no rules in ass class
There is no test
There is no grade
There is only research
There is only motion and emotion
There is no wrong way for an ass to move
It’s not about how much you charge for admission to the live show
It’s about everybody putting a little somethin’ in the tip jar
And when I say tip jar
I mean dance floor
And when I say dance floor
I mean: Mountains & Forests & Lakes & Rivers
All that creeps and crawls
And climbs aboard this crazy boat ride
It’s about the birds and their beaks
And the special way they feed their babies
I want you  to feed me on the dance floor like a baby bird.
Feed me
Like a hungry baby bird on fire