could you put your light on please?...

. . .cuz everybody's lonely...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .and there's a lot of lonely people...

and anywhere's a better place to be...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that I express what too many people feel, maybe what everybody feels and nobody wants to admit it or if they do admit it, nobody wants to dwell on it, focus on it, discuss it, or deal with it... the insecurity, the longing, the hunger, the doubt, the unfulfilled wishes...

dreams go by...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that everybody comes online to escape from their every day reality and they paint a better picture of themselves in words and images that becomes a fantasy they can believe in because others accept them as they are in their words...

word wizard...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that everybody knows what I am saying and everybody agrees, but nobody really wants to face the poor-me laments of how people lose themselves in their daily grinds and forget their hearts and their feelings and their passions in order to make ends meet and fit in with the neighbors...

say a prayer, for the Pretender... who started out so young and strong, only to surrender...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that everybody is just as vulnerable as I am and nobody wants to hear it because nobody wants to really look in the mirror and face what is missing from their lives because everybody is afraid that what is missing will always be missing and life maybe they failed or are not good enough to get what they want...

stranger...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that I am like an open wound, an accident that attracts a crowd of onlookers who are secretly happy it is not them who lay bleeding in the street and thought everyone means well and can't tear their eyes away, nobody is going to come close because nobody wants to get their hands dirty or be in that sort of spotlight... and nobody wants to hear about the rock anymore...

love... love... love...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that I am pandering to too many different people and therein turning off everyone because Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love is not compatible with John Denver's Season of the Heart and Jackson Browne's Lives In The Balance or Neil Young's Heart of Gold is not going to go over with someone into Metallica or Laguna Coil or Dream Theatre and they sure don't want to hear Billy Joel or Elton John or The Carpenters or Neil Sedaka or Barry Manilow... let them eat Cake?...

flowers are red...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I was too honest, that nobody wanted to hear Pete Seeger anymore, that raging against the machine was pass�, that everyone is content hiding out in their cookie cutter lives with their televisions and DVD players and 2.3 children and dog, too busy struggling to pay their mortgage and car off to be dealing with flights of fancy or their heart's dreams and my constant chatter about this and that is annoying after an episode or two...

somebody said...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that I am too full of myself and should just get over myself and let go of the dreams that keep me mired in past mistakes and a loneliness so vast that nobody wants to come close enough to even begin to try to resolve it because everyone is afraid of getting sucked into their own void of loneliness if they feel too much and it doesn't work out or becomes co-dependent or they have to actually be honest with themselves about themselves...

same sad singer...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that everyone is in a hurry to get where they are going and nobody wants to take the time to stop and smell the roses anymore because then they will fall behind in the human race and have to live on social security or worse, on the streets when they get old because it's a material world and success is measured in what you look like, what you own, and what you can buy...

get on with it...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest and nobody wants to hear how I see everyone I've ever as a child in terms of emotional and psychological development and nobody wants to hear about how this frustrates me at times when loneliness grows to make me selfish and when I whine on and on like Jesus Christ Superstar in the garden of Gethsemane about it nobody believes that most of the time I love my role as parent, teacher, helper, friend, and 'the strong one' everybody comes to for help, advice, and just to talk about themselves or their lives even if it is truly my experience is this life, my nature, my profession, and my favorite thing to do after falling in love...

up on the shelf...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest in my quest for dreams and I am wasting my time writing songs for some future that I'll never get to because nobody wants their future plotted out and perfect because those dreams are impossible and only exist in fairy tales and nobody really wants to live a fairy tale because it is just a bubble that eventually must burst...

greyhound...

somebody wrote to me and told me that I am too honest, that I wear not only my heart on my sleeve, but that I wear my cock on my sleeve as well and the two are incompatible sleeve wear, that one repulses and repels half the people who might approach and the other repulses and repels the other half, so it is the rare bird who approaches and that is probably out of some momentary curiosity like people gather around the freak show at the circus...

everything changes, so fuck doubt...

but I still remember and I can still feel and want to do and love more than dream because I still believe in love and music and taking a stand...

and I still believe if just one person wants to hear it, it's worth it... even if nobody ever comes near...

there was only one choice...

eep

g'nite...

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)