behindthesebones-blog

[behindthesebones-blog]

& i will give you every part of me

[behindthesebones-blog]

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Said & Done

How often do you look back? Really reflect on what you’ve done? The insignificance of it all; pointless arguments, inside jokes, funny hair cuts. But do you ever wonder how you’ll be remembered? Or if what you’ve done and what you’re doing means anything at all? What will your songs sound like when you’re dead and gone? Will tears fall when the last note is sung? And how will your story be told? Will your words leave a bitter taste in their mouths? Or will they even remember you at all? Compassion. The concept is rather simple. Most know what it means to be civil, but there truly is a fine line between sweet and sour. Give too much of yourself away and you’ll be all used up. Not enough, and no one will be around to share this with. So what is it that motivates us to be better, gentler, more refined? I'd like to think it’s those close to us — close to the heart and soul. Those who carried you to the car after you puked on their shoes, those who took the blame for breaking the window when it was you who cast the stone, those who will be by your side when reality knocks on your door, both good and bad. But more importantly, those whose stories you will share with your kids and grand kids — and their kids, and their grand kids — in hopes to somehow keep this all alive. Chivalry, decency, kindness, compassion, desire, strength. How will you be remembered?

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youth against establishment

Sleep easy while the others lay to fit in Shaking in their caskets, society molds them with a grin Becoming who they want you to be Rather than the hope you wish you’d see At any given moment or any race of time The clock that strikes death will eat you up inside The hardest part will always be the stretch So think of all the good times in the morning when you rest Awake me from this dream of dreams within itself For I have lost my way in this nightmare of hell I’m broken to the core and have nothing left to feel But I’d rather be in here than this life that you call real

[behindthesebones-blog]

nothing truly dies. the universe wastes nothing. everything is simply, transformed.

Allix Nicole Barz

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mt. burial

Meet me on top of Burial Mountain with your name written in my palm You touched my arm, I held my knees, I saw you smiling So let's throw our coins in the cemetery fountain I could die with you today Barreling down the hillside to the river I can show you But you don't wanna know where I go in my head In my head I filled up my heart and now it'll swim like a stone, sink like a brick I'm cold like winter through your clothes, an avalanche The copper buttons on your coat have fallen You've sewn them in the snow I've been whittled down to bone The crows in the attic can have my body, or what's left of me But you don't wanna know where I go in my head In my head I filled my heart and now it'll swim like a stone, sink like a brick Tied my wrists in the water I've been trying hard to remember

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consequences of departure

Back to the same old empty bed Your face a thousand miles west A year's gone by without a heart Nothing for shelter but my soul as a tarp Leaving was the best I could do You'll never repay all that you took Words were spoken of those untrue Too many chances for you to prove Moving on with life ahead Eyes dried out of tears to shed Staring at a ticking clock Waiting for the world to stop Staring at a shadow that isn't mine Standing there, he says it's time

[behindthesebones-blog]

on behalf of my better half

You sleep well when you're covered in hell And you speak better when there's nothing else I asked God to show me proof but only Jesus came through I found myself crushing for you like a little kid Crushing into you like a sea of sin Too many vibes to really vibe on And too many clocks to really tell time of Soaked in sympathy but strong as ever Never down, never felt better Speaking on behalf of my better half I'll show you the light of my heart you'll always have

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the concept of timeless

We only grow older as the seconds pass But I've found a place where the moments last A scene of clocks without the hands A potential oasis with endless plans The only rush you'll ever have is the sense of time catching its breath The role of a watchtower is to play its part as timecatcher The owls can't tell the difference between morning and night So they fly forever, for the rest of their lives Time is not wasted, because time does not exist Lethargy is a sin, and clocks are a myth

[behindthesebones-blog]

tales told by dead friends

At the edge of the earth lies a man of regret Buried far away so he’d be easy to forget Cold under a tombstone, six feet below The mistake from his past gnaws at his bones They tell us that he’s dead, so he cannot think He thinks forever, but he simply can’t speak No flowers on the surface, no visitors at his shrine All that is left of this man are a few words of mine “Husband. Father. Son. Martyr.” His existence cut short not due to death But because of murder, he took his last breath He doesn’t blame himself, and he still misses his wife The man promised to return to her and put up a fight With the worms he rests, awaiting the tide to rise Water will dig up his coffin so he can run for his life