a place for rubbernecked giraffes

Madness is a work of art

Madness is a work of art.
Fear and failure. Irritation.
Nothing becomes a voice--
a shout, a whisper, a scream.
It's a necessary waste of time.
These spaces must be filled.
I will call it music.

I'm happy. How 'bout you?

My Life I Sing

And more, I'm growing old.
Through it all, the odd
beauty in refusal remains.
Conviction's an awkward feast.
I haven't changed the world.
Risk sometimes is poetry.

Consolation

I suspect it's only
failure you expect.
The tree line takes me
through gentle country.

I lose you in the flow.
I have nothing. No song.
The silence uneasy--
it started like that.

Negative numbers
bother me.
I used to have hands
outstretched.

Those days are gone.
Stronger this time,
identity brings back
what connects.

Fast, oh, yeah

Dwight Yoakam
 
More CMT Music
 
More CMT Music Videos

Spit ghazal

Look there, on your car's hood: Spit!
So? Any dumb bug could spit.

His mouth's full of cherry pits.
He wonders if he should spit.

With Mountain Dew and Cheetos,
you can create some good spit.

Do you suppose anyone
who achieved sainthood spit?

Rabbit, beef, chicken or fish--
Don't forget: Soak a wood spit.

Organized religion sucks.
They say Jesus withstood spit.

If I just knew how to hawk,
I might fly, or I would spit.

Agnes, whatever you say,
you never understood spit.