Blue (Lyrics by Skye Lyon, Performed by Matthew Sternstein)

Your choice is made but is somewhat blurred
and all your laughs morph into sultry burns.
Helpless and scared, I want to hide
believing your madness died inside.
I try and try to runaway
but your love, your love, can't seem to fly away
from me.
From me.
From me.
From me to you was all I knew.
Lord, I prayed it wasn't true.
After years and years of all my wasted tears,
cascading into mountains of newborn fears.
Countless pleas I sent to you
are now splattered with ink, hued in blue.

From me to you...
Lord, I prayed it wasn't true.
Helpless and scarred, I want to hide
believing your madness died inside -
but your love, your love, can't seem to hide away
from me.
From me.
From me.
From me to you was all I knew.
Lord, I prayed that it wasn't true.
After years and years of my wasted tears,
cascading into mountains of newborn fears.

I love you.

I love the blue.

Your choice is made but is somewhat blurred
and all your laughs morph into sultry burns.
Helpless and scared, I want to hide
believing your madness died inside.
I try and try to runaway
but your love, your love, can't seem to fly away
from me - to you was all I knew.

Lord, I prayed it wasn't true.

Life & Death: The Lovers

Life, loyal to her beloved, Death

take small amounts of passionate breaths

in between a prolonged eternity.

Their relationship is of a tumultuous kind

where neither her mother, Nature, nor her father, Time,

can intervene through their love’s sincerity;

however,

Death wipes the tears from vivacious Life’s eyes

and explains to her they were not created for such a mortal like prize.

Life abides yet forlorn and left wondering "why",

while Death must always vow to tell his loved ones goodbye.

 

"Of Life & Death"
by Scott Dandson

Jet Black Ink

Love and war. The two stand unbeknownst
to the one who craves it the most.
Entranced by a smile or the flicker of an eye,
can send a marble statue, in its immobile transit, to cry.
A sweet and brutal euphoria in the midst of winter -
gazing upon the moonlight from an airplane, ink splattered pages sparkling with black glimmer.
I welcome him into my life with newly found grace,
hoping he can save me from this mundane wild goose chase.
Some days pass…but this instant compares to no other form of glory,
and so there, laying vacant in the airport terminal began a new love story.

His Whiskey

Maybe it's the way he sips his whiskey,

has cigarette smoke that stains his clothes

with an ashy smell, or the angered grit in his voice that turns me on

to this perfect stranger. A crooked smile with jagged teeth edges

as if from grinding them down to the root.

If only he'd grind my way.

Grind the hostility out of my life...

the pain, the suffering, the melancholy of longing for him.

It's unbearable at times.

He is a constant variable in my mind and in my dreams.

Suspended in the sunshine I see.

If only I could hold him...if only he could hold me.

Talk about all there ever was and all there will ever be.

 

Maybe its his presumable valor and my honor he will defend,

holding the wrath and strength of a thousand men.

A bottle in one hand, my hand in another,

his rambunctious temper and the love letters

he has yet to write me.

The anticipation of our encounter and a bottle of his whiskey,

caught in a landslide, closing the sweet worldly blinds,

flinging the door open and wallowing in loneliness no more.

 

"Somewhere Up North, Caught Down South"
Photo taken and edited by Skye Lyon. 2013.

Candy Coated

Walk with me, to the end of me.

Where the weeds seep and screams reverb down

across the rubble wreckage beneath my feet.

Fall in love with the chaotic fury that engulfs me.

Where heated anger flows out like passionate lover’s sex.

Never vex of cause a hex on what is good about us, babe.

Wait, what was ever good about us? Don’t hold back…

Ink splattered tears stained my cheeks black.

Ruing my melancholy for all those years and

my unborn happiness I will never get back.

Vacantly listening to songs pressed on vinyl,

yearning for those lone hearted desires etched on wax.

Bed sheets painted our arguments mad -

kisses sewn in with candy coated lies were the only memories

I have ever had of you.

Who can blame my surges of madness, when all your lies turned true.

So when it comes down to the fact:

No, my once sweet surrender,

we will never get back together.

"Blue, Little Red"
Ink sketch by Skye Lyon. 2013.

Holocene

Politicians laughed and the poets dreamed,
and our love was showcased like artwork in the Holocene.
I decided to reach out to you, across the Atlantic engorged in blue -
I have so many things I’d like to say
but hesitation has me waiting yet another day.
Writing out all my points to get across,
as I look at the neighbor’s windows turn to frost.
Sifting through all the rumors that were never true...
smoke clears the ashes of our past, us being one of a troubled few.
As your promise to me reflects a gilded hue, the only man I see is you.
Dense mystery cloaks the night as I lay in bed -
God, allow me to rest my tired head.
The grandfather clock casts its devious spell,
with every echoed chime, my prayers all turn to hell.
Our bed is made, the stars are crossed.
A revolution is brewing, babe, and you’re the boss.
Nerves strum across my fragile chest
as I feel his fingers add pressure on steel, cold frets.
Sleepless minutes morph into early morning hours,
he bows before me - I turn my heart away, walking the path of a faithless coward;
but maybe now is the time to shed my fear…“oh, not now, let’s wait another year.”
The inertia in my soul outweighs my desire;
a stick, a match…fire strikes - I watch my hope burn on a funeral pyre.

 

"Good Luck, Kiddo"
Photo by Skye Lyon. 2012.
Kaori Japanese Sushi Bar

Wine In a Coffee Mug

The sun is sinking and is awfully missed.
Cold breezes are for the keeping and lay motionless
in dark hair. Fragile lips count the teeth in a lovers mouth,
and the town elder rests stout in a rocking chair gazing upon what could have been
years and years ago.
Now loneliness is hidden knee deep in a blanket of snow
with each coming winter. As long as we have each other,
babe, spring will lead us back to the moment
when we fell in love. In the midst of autumn’s cusp.
You, my awkwardly beautiful man, wrap your lips tenderly
around my coffee mug - drinking the wine given to me by my mother
years and years ago, under fragmented stars
that we interpret as scattered gold.
Hiding secrets told to me by October’s harvest moon.
Sacred riddles no one will ever know – no, no, no.
No one will ever know.
 When I curl my body into yours, will you tenderly

whisper in my ear…the new daylight rays
will mean nothing to me if you are not by my side.

Only through the insomniac down time, do I learn to shed my pride
 'cause we will all leave eventually,
oh, but darling, nowhere near our “now”.
The boreal lights lull me into your private needs

as they signal us for a final bow…
until tomorrow, my love.