impossible boyfriend

i fell in love with you at the top of a playground
once a boy now a man with a furrowed brow and shaky hands
pull the splinters from your finger take the rocks from your shoes let's go play
don't worry baby fair weather will come our way again

it aint so heavy baby let it go
don't worry if the wind picks up don't worry if the cows don't wanna come home
it aint so heavy baby let it go
don't worry pretty baby we'll wait for fair weather to come

I fell in love with you at the bottom of a mountain
once a boy now a man with a clever tongue and twisted grin
pull yourself out of bed take the lock off the door let's go play
don't worry baby fair weather will come our way again

it aint so heavy baby let it go
don't worry if the wind picks up don't worry if the cows don't wanna come home
it aint so heavy baby let it go
don't worry pretty baby we'll wait for fair weather to come

can you hear my heart fluttering around in its cage
will you take it under careful supervision so it doesn't fly away
and when it's time to go will you bury it next to the tulips and canaries
so it can come back next spring singing

it aint so heavy baby let it go
don't worry if the wind picks up don't worry if the cows don't wanna come home
it aint so heavy baby let it go
don't worry pretty baby we'll wait for fair weather to come

enough

frantic, fleeting skating on an ice patch as the wind flies through where my hair should be
left behind with feminity
finding new identity
with who i am inside of me

curious to think that my present is just a test of patient buildup towards tomorrow sun
grass is flying from my hips and hands are writhing telling stories
do you know what i'm saying
without the act of listening

shaking molting melting like an iceburg hit the sun
spraying rain like noise to quiet disbelievers
do you know what i'm saying
without looking at the sky

it's a jungle of robotics
with factors of organics
as inspired by the cheetah
and created as machines

who are you in the fog
would i recognize your voice
or need to touch your face
for i can't connect with anything
'sides my own to-do list

wasting away again in mad impurities

Pocket Watch Pocket Change

Rewritten patchwork song. For special ears only, which means the masses will probably hate it. It's rough but I don't care. Whop!



I got so much to say but words won't fit in the space between your arms
and it's hard to act detached when your fingers are wrapped around the weight of my heart
it's all your fault if I fall apart

cause I'm wrong for you right now
you are right for me somehow
all we have is what we make and what we break
from our beds to our wedding vows...

so we dance in an alleyway and watch the ashes from our hands fly
watch the rain water down your expression watch your shadow as you say goodbye
you disappear right before my eyes

cause I'm wrong for you right now
you are right for me somehow
all we have is what we make and what we break
from our beds to our wedding vows...

I wish I may be right for you on stray eyelashes and pocket change
perhaps you're misinterpreting the end of that recurring dream
I know your haves and wants are very different shades of grey
cause when I kiss you the color shows all over your face...

cause I'm wrong for you right now
you are right for me somehow
all we have is what we make and what we break
from our beds to our wedding vows...

Pocketwatch by maid mosephine

Can't let a year pass by without adding to the pile of schmwords that come out seldom now that I'm without the time to pay attention. The cat jumps up and down, attacking my ankles while I'm in my bathrobe, and I plead with him to wait until I'm better prepared. Please, kitty, wait until I've had some coffee. All I can say is that I'm editing now, moving from creator to whittler, engineering out all the superfluous references to passe lifeperiods. I don't go for walks anymore. I have a destination from the moment I wake up. It is good, and the cat thinks so too, as one of my first destinations is to fill his food bowl, but after that I yearn for the wanderer inside to wake up.

Are you there?

You and your socks and umbrellas and sweaters, you and your haircuts and talk-to-you-laters. Me and my bathrobe and half-written letters, me and my inbox of please-do-this-betters.

It's in there somewhere. A request from you or me to make a connection.

Shit or get off the pot is the saying.
So I don't have to.

Hats are for special occasions.

in the works

we see the world age with the evidence so widely presented
wrapped in the leaves that fall into mountains at our feet
shape opinions to handmade mosaics to describe such phenomena
we’d figure things out if not for our margins of error

this music box winds in the backs of our throats as the sun sits beside us
ballet on the countertop amuses us all for a little while
the picture shows captivate our idle hands stretched towards distractions
the horrors portrayed reassure us their lives are okay

your fingers are itching to feel such incredible desires
they’ve woven thousands of notes suspended blindly on currents
you hope for the threads to solicit that girl back in dreamland
she may never see them but they’ll trap her in times of distress

miss the boat miss the memo miss the moments remembered so clearly
miss the train miss the point miss the things we intended to say
play telephone with heartstrings we tie to the end of a tin can
afraid to enunciate the words that depict the destination

I'm on a rool

or something.

that psychic vampires list I talk about

if i thought it’d feed your heart and not your head i’d say you’re wonderful
I thought you might be wonderful if not for your pretenses
an eloquent delilah so fastidious to please the men
we could get along if i respected your decisions

I’m trying hard to be your friend, I’m trying really hard to be your friend
But my patience will run out the door screaming for relief
when I tire of pretending I enjoy your company

don’t have to say you’re sorry cause it’s not your fault at all
don’t have to say you’re sorry cause you cannot help yourself
your unfaltering mentality of a damsel in distress
I just cannot sympathize when I’m shaking my head

frast is not a word

How much distance can I leave between us on half-lived attempts to get closer
don’t ask for explanation the time it would take would detract from the point
I read in the paper someone I knew was murdered it’s ugly all so ugly
I look at my car in the driveway and wonder how far away it would take me

If the world looked much more like 1983 would you love me, would I love you too
Cause the walls this year get greyer each morning I drain them of color just like I did you
When you go on and get a lot older tomorrow I'll tell you again
stop calling me back and I'll stop calling you the one that got away

our wavelengths communicate intricately like a music box winding
we're supposed to discuss the whale in the bathtub but never do anything
I guess it takes beautiful pictures to show you the time that has passed
cracks in foundations are planning ascension to something that matters

the crickets are rubbing their ankles together to pass the time
going through the motions just like me when I lie and I say I'm just fine
oh why are we talking around what we’re wanting to say
why aren’t we talking about all of the moments that will never be the same

made something today

it looks like this


now for a shower and a cuddle with babby, perhaps.

gadgets...

...are among us. I used to have this habit with people I no longer have contact with; an explanation would be too long to bring merit to anything in comparison to the length of time you'd leave shaking your head at me. I can't help it though; it's just in my nature to do so.

There are so many words that rhyme.
There are not so many words that rhyme with pavement.

ran out of f's

string, paint blobs, trees.



boredom ceases to exist with craft supplies and interweb radio

test your cat breed knowledge

word swappage explanations needed, here you are. a few old ones from the note-book.

a very very very late unbirthdaymasyears

of sorts. The Story of the Cat and the Horse. Look, dad, I really can write children's stories with apologetic undertones!

if the bottle fits, inhabit it

making a mountain from a molehill, I'm sure.

trash vs. time, with sock-em boppers

Decided to stay in and make art for once, holding Greg captive. I don't think he minded too much though.

more new old stuff

I haven't mentioned yet that I have a tractor fetish. Holla holla holla.

posting oldies

I'm going to start posting some of my old songs periodically so whoever comes across this blog can get the full perspective of my inexperience. Oh, and perhaps a picture or two to go along. I'm all about storytelling.



Here's one right now! First song, circa May 2008.
Elephant in the Room

hey ma, hey ma feliz cumpleanos

look what I did, hang it on your fridge

Dr. Seuss

Song time. It's new, it's tapdancey.

"Let's rub our feet together our souls will greet each other, let's walk in the dark till the sun says hello

let's clap our hands together we'll keep the time forever cause nothing else matters with your hand in my own"

Let your hears do the earring
Dr. Seuss

hearts on faces EP

So, I have a band. We made an EP. Greg designed the cd insert and I made it into t-shirts, too.

Check out the t-shirts on his blog! http://gregferris.blogspot.com/

The EP looks like this:

Our website looks like this: www.myspace.com/maidmosephineandtheequines