America My Love, Sixth Refrain


I met plenty of overachievers
Sweet believers
In endless toils and labors

Folding fists up to the sky
Trying to rise rise rise
Up to the top
Not knowing when
Best, like the rest, falls
Top topples hardest of all

Grinding away best
Within wide bindings
Society sounded so
Clinging to dean’s lists
4.0’s, no conflicts or rows

Beating the brain bloody
Blow by blow
Pounding the effort
To be astounding
Into each core
Success distributing dopamine

Sniffing school up
Like it were lines of coke
Not minding the constant comedowns
Emanating on flitting failure

Learned of a student
On endless adderal grind
Getting to A’s through sleepless nights
In a haze through Tireless working days

Powering on for some straight indicator
Of something done with brilliance
Pushing for a sign of any success
Bleeding for grace under duress

Left the easy life and
Flew far from the nest
To meet life like it were a test

Talked only when he could
Met folk only when he should
Smoothed substance and word
Out in measures of legitimacy
In cover letter caliber

Staring at
Calibri typed word
When Times were New Roman
Thinking sheep bleat rebellions
Before refraining

Hand raised abstain
From black staining
Resumes leading to training
Leading to daily creating
Unfolding of molds that
Straightened lives out
In line like white teeth

It was not about
Living far out
Beyond the pale
Compounding out
Wasted time with Hippies
In upstate NYC
It was the endless churn
The constant mental burn
To touch the sky
Fire filling the peripheries
Burning out sight of the ground

And I could say something
Snappy about Icarus and the sun
But when the fall’s real
The burnout steals the satisfaction

Reveling in perfection
Misdirected feels fun for a while
But the failure’s too human
For Schadenfreude

~Austin R Ryan

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America My Love, Fifth Refrain


Now not every man
fits the scheme
laid out at his starting place

Reaching the finish line
can take a touch of the divine
But out here in the west
we are plenty ready to test
where we draw salvation’s line.

We’ve got godless Christians
indecisive agnostic Unitarians
ex-Jehovah’s witnessing new shit
turned angered atheists,
same great judgmental taste
with 0 faux-spirituality calories

This cat was an eastern scholar,
you dig?
He never gelled with Christ
got along better with Krishna
never ran with Hebrew
but Buddha let him know what’s what
and more importantly, who’s who

As a daoist he believed
rhythm and flow
would show him
which way to go
and just what
he needed to follow

He wanted to move like the rivers
flow gently against godless green earth
erode the hard, the blearing light,
with soft and dark might
Wash out the endless noise
of the God damn know-it-alls
with blurry half certainty

But fall through
the tiny crack
of electronic disturbance
The mechanical wack
the mental half slap
of technical perturbance

and he brought his fist
to the side of his skull
Pounding at the temples
like they were front doors

Ding dong.
The hot air in his head
shot out in a clamor
like wind striking chimes

The man was so reverent
of context
that he put himself
as next best
after all the world,
and worry
of friends in flurry
and family in a hurry

All the fury pent up in his chest
steamed out of his knuckle
and back into him
through his thin skin
Bruises on thighs
Bite marks on arms

Little bits of Anger and loathing
fit tight like hand-me-down clothing
pinning against his chest

He just could not rest, knowing
that he reconciled the world
while leaving himself unfurled.

He never broke down
in some great tragic way
he had some concussions
but mostly just
internal repercussions

He felt small
mediocre
shallow and beaten down
because he never could pull
his two hands back
and just fully relax

These little things ate at him
until they grew big enough
to swallow his greatness whole
leaving him to work away
the rest of his days

Living vicariously
through a poor forged family
he never managed the inadequacies
running through the flowery
fields of his squiggly cerebrum,
just let them grow like ugly weeds
in his less-than-zen garden

Some say
if you’ve got hate in your heart
let it out
because your body will
break and ache
at each chance to
vent the steam swirling
through your cortexes

It does not blow
out your ears
like the cartoons tell the kids
It does not fall from the sky
burning bits of holy vengeance
flinging out of kung-fu fists
Like the movies tell the teens

It just dams itself up
and quietly
Snaps
like an aneurysm

But busting brainily into your headstone
at the old enough age of 68
seems a damn sight better
than beating the streets til
someone guns you down at 36

An apple a day keeps the doctor away
like a little bit of repression,
each time you get to thinking,
keeps the therapist at bay

I dunno if
adages new
become true
when adding ages

I dunno if sayings
ever truly get old
after being retold.
All I know is that
what you try to deny
likely denies you too

But what do my
young eyes know
about personal vengeance
and retaliatory reprise?

~Austin R Ryan

America My Love, Refrain 4


Have you ever woke up to find

You’ve no one to confess too?

 

Yes it breeds sin terrible and true

to not have some outlet through and through.

I speak to this page and he keeps me sane.

I tell my stupid small secrets of self-pain

 

But I never hurt myself so bad

As a few kids in clad, black

Kids can curse and hack, hearty

Even if you’re a cute and tarty, queen

You can quite quick adopt a scene, dark

Start writing shitty stark, songs

Fill poems with wrongs, in word

Taken from blaspheming herd, dead

With long dysfunction dread, lost

To commemorate your holocaust, wedded

With the wrist-blood you sweated, quick

Almost surprised by the response to a flick, slit

 

But if the emo kids

took a paltry pause

and bothered to listen

They’d hear the conductor’s voice say:

 

Please keep your blood

inside the body

at all times during the ride

Please discard

all of your baggage

before boarding the body.

if you need help securing yourself

contact the nearest priest

 

Ah, yes…

I know the tunes quite well.

The squalling of various clientele

ringing along to the drum beats

of their internal hell

 

It used be that you had to gossip

and you had to churn

out every piece of humanity

In the story marked

on the face of your neighborhood

 

But now people languish

in facebooks and tumblrs

twitters and emails

 

Not an ounce abated

by knowing that cries of help

are so damn dated

 

It’s all there

Packaged and assembled

By the foot of your door

 

Friend four thousand and seven

Meeting a massive mid-midlife crisis

 

Friend three hundred and twelve

Trying to find a major in which to delve

 

Who knows?

Maybe even friend 3

slipping very silently

into the throws of insanity.

 

Oh, the humanity!

 

When you’re at the opera

be sure to grab

One of those Plush balcony seats

well above

The stamping of staged feet

the noise is distracting

And you might miss the acting

 

And don’t forget

Your petite pair of binoculars

You have hidden

beneath the flat of your cushioned throne

without them

You might just stare someone to stone

with the squinting of

Your eyes so prone

 

~Austin R Ryan

America My Love, Refrain 3


Heard a man tripped out on Benadryl

Just for a cheap thrill

And some time he needed kill

Saying it seems somewhat shrill,

 

But everything has its cost

and his mind floated the bill

 

Never came out of it the same

It was quite a shame

 

These were the words, my ears came to tame

 

It is quite a shame

It is quite a shame

It is quite a shame

 

Being catholic can cut

Deep into the gut

And sometimes I wonder

Just for mind to ponder

How many still meander

Around their desire

Until it burst from them like fire

 

Never could catholicize my eyes

The proselytize really crucifies

But someone with mouth from word

Of gods great and grand herd

 

Once bothered to tell me

Of a banner man

who did pail with driving a nail

But never feared a hammering

When it reached for the tail

 

This one’s an old ale.

Probably something you know

something you inferred

or thought occurred

Even if from your ears,

the tale was deferred

 

In his hand he had the devil’s smooth grip

 

His heart all a flutter

his head all a flip

When a boy brushed by his healthy hip

 

He wasn’t a pervert like the rest…

I don’t mean to be crass, but

He just longed with his ass

 

And loved with his dick

 

Father, father you did your best

you smote smut, you saved the sick

You churned out charity, you prayed so merrily

but alas, alas you never loved a lass, a lass

father, father you’ve become a bother, bother

and no man’s left here to stop your slaughter

Jesus was your only reference

and Christianity your Alma mater

no real wonder

When the covers got looked under

they saw your eyes caught

between recompense

and soft, fleshy plunder

 

~Austin R Ryan

America My Love, 2nd Refrain


2nd Refrain

There once was a man of political intent

Who knew of all the figures

that came and went

He saw shadows shift

Underneath the prominent coffins

he did lift

 

He gave good advice

But never listened to his own

He spoke his words nice

And tempered a treating tone

 

But he was see through true and true

Though he spoke loyal

He walked royal

And all knew he wanted a throne

 

He tried to blend

But He became so standard

When afraid

of what it meant to be slandered

 

Never got too far

Except when he drove out in his car

 

Imagining people hailed his name

From all corridors and lands

He imagined so much fame

That even to him – it seemed most profane

 

He did have a way about him

That some were inclined to flout him

But he never could make means into ends

 

In public he put philosophy under sophistry

In private he made freedom his curiosity

He loved it like it were atrocity

So much so he hardly handled

restraints on velocity

 

One day

He departed from the fray

Abandoning his sway

to the matters of that fine may day

 

he mounted the metal horse

and went riding

But oddly enough…

he felt he was hiding

 

For once, his self

was what he was chiding

 

He passed from tree to tree

And wanted so badly to be free

From all the toll and all the fee

 

So started his quaint little speeding spree…

 

He slammed on the peddle to soar through sees of glinting metal

he went quicker and slicker, faster and rasher discarding thoughts for laughter

as he unbuckled the belt that bound, honking and heaving

like the barkings of a hungry hound

Until he swung and spun round and round and forsook

All the control from the roles he stole

 

For one sliver

of freedom

from the capitol Pull

 

When he slammed into the tree

he soared out so far

that he finally felt free…

 

With the contents of his head ajar

Eyes smeared red

against the black tar

He found finally

That he could see so far

 

Tales get twisted

As our art gets fisted

These times are strange

But I do admire the range

 

America’s threading

And bedding

New sorts of souls

And new brands of roles

~Austin R Ryan

America My Love


First Refrain

 

down and out in the cold by tenth street

are all the women in forced heat

they peddle their wares

through sweet scents in their hairs

 

While boys in the black

Talk some vile smack

And the middle aged couples

Run through their scruples

 

Some men run so far

As to get in their car

And drown family fanfare

In that scented hair

 

The sixties sang

The seventies swung

The eighties fought

The nineties simply sought

And the millennials swallowed all it was

That their forefathers bought

 

There once was a man from Nantucket

Who liked to draw dicks so long

his followers imagined they’d suck it

He drew for the throng

For so damn long

That eventually he up and said

“fuck it”

 

He went to the store, and found it a bore

He barged into the bar, but tasted tar

He jumped to the gym, but was too slim

He pounced to the pool, but found it too full

 

So he finally flew to the farm

And with what little luck left,

He found it had some charm

 

They found him one day

In newly bought property

With a ruptured colon

And a horse that went all in

 

They say there was an artist

Who counted herself the smartest

even though what she drew was the tartest

 

With a hefty herp

and a deep old derp

She went to deviantart

To draw out her heart

 

She gave it her all

She put out her best

But the commenters put her

right to the test

 

She banned and she blocked them

Her reactions never stopped them

Yet…

As insults came to dominate

She learned to love the hate

 

But by the time she swung open the gate

The trolls trotted off

And the white knights went soft

 

All that remained

Were the ratings

So so stained

and

so low…

Seemed they had

nowhere to go

 

Her personality was so in detention

That from friends or from family

She could not find attention

Even the internet forgot her contention

 

So With no eyes left watching

With no time for proper debauching

She walked with rope and knot tied taut

 

 

To a bridge in the middle of town

Bearing a deep little frown

And Wearing a dirty old gown

 

She choked back tears

And recalled the sweet, sweet jeers

As she suppressed all of her little fears

 

And imagined, that she jumped…

Right into the arms, of her peers…

 

The suspension bridge never felt so suspended

The story was rough

But the ratings were splendid!

 

I heard once of a boy

Who loved to make himself a toy

Of sick obsession

And derelict regression

 

You know he could be a charmer

Once he donned a gimp’s armor

Many would say whips and chains

only gave him growing pains

 

There once was a time

When shame coated like grime

But confidence can cure aversion

So off he went with his perversion…

 

Those that knew him – when he had shame

Were quite quick to forsake his name

Friends met him – with excuses so lame

Family threw him off – exactly the same

That was, until he got some fame

 

When he flew off to the races

When he fell into piles of money

His mom went back to calling him honey

And his friends started to find him quite funny

 

One day our hero awoke

Went out for a smoke

Found his wallet full of cash

And his phone always a flash

He was a different breed

That one

A dominant submissive indeed

America my love

You’ve outgrown your manger

And I am afraid you are only getting stranger

I feel you rebel from the world

With your adolescence unfurled

You stopped being so slim

And you can’t settle on a hymn

You keep me up every night

Just so I might stare at your blight

 

~Austin R Ryan