A ghost town full of people
Is still a ghost
No pulse of blasphemy
No pulse of discontent
No pulse of synthesis
Reverence and reproduction
Infographics and maps
Embalmed compilations
Epitaphs and epithets
Galleries full of souvenirs
-T. Weeks
Lonely photon
At a crossroads
Look left
Look right
No one’s looking
Take both
Ripple in the end…
Sometimes
The cat watches
Ambivalent
Ambitious
Alice has to choose
Which way to go
Or where to end up
-T. Weeks
I am not a Persian rug
Hidden away
Rolled up and waiting
Not even walked on
A story for the guests
A dust collector
Invaluable
Unvaluable
Wanting for nothing
Good for nothing
I am not a Persian rug
-T. Weeks
Little boy in a graveyard
Little boy in a jungle
Little boy in trouble
Little boy out again
No end to the cycle
Little boy grown
Little boy gray
Little boy stumbles
Little boy sits
No end to the boy
Little boy stuck
Little boy cries
Little boy asks
Little boy remembers
Words of a ghost
“Little boys are free to move
So where to little boy?”
-T. Weeks
Farts are funny
Always have been
I laugh every time
Can’t be helped
Hold it in?
That’s uncomfortable
The laugh I mean
What were you thinking?
-T. Weeks
Ever met a Time Traveler?
I know a few
They tend to stick around
It’s not like the movies
No flux capacitors
No phone booths
They use other parts
Hopes and hand motions
Pigments and prose
Pens and poses
Impressions and pains
Damnations and prayers…
Portals
Flowing forward and back
Repeating
Repeating
Repeating
Repeating
Etc
They aren’t trying to travel
Just trying to see
Tripping in the darkness
Feeling the texture
Timeless and infinite
And falling in
Like my buddy Walt
Watching the Brooklyn Ferry
Falling forever
Into the distant future
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”)
Restless and laboring
Eyes open in bed
“I’ll die”
Thought the Toy Maker
“If I don’t write this down”
So he wrote
Wrote until his hand hurt
And his sweat smudged the ink
An almost flawless plan
But something was wrong
Words said one thing
Letters another
Were the serifs too desperate?
Was the kerning indecisive?
He started again
Injecting curiosity and confidence
Rounded corners and vertical lines
Chiseling grinding
Rejecting refining
“I won’t stop” he’d say
“Until it says what I mean”
Restarting again and again
Obsession boiled
Years passed
Until an old man
Alone and bent
Simply wrote “boy”
And Pinocchio leapt off the page
-T. Weeks
Bagels twistied and sealed
Hoped they’d last all week
Freshness is ephemeral
But that’s easy to forget
Plastic might have slowed it
Salt helped a bit
But the green and white
Was always sprouting
Despite my best attempt
So eat them while you have them
Butter while ye may
Mold won’t ruin everything
Just a value pack from Costco
And a lazy Saturday
-T. Weeks
Don’t think twice bogeyman
Didn’t know you played guitar
Chords for poundin out your pain man
Voice I never heard before
You weren’t nuthin to me
A monster in the dark
Hidin’ on a street somewhere
Didn’t know you could tell a joke
Don’t think twice bogeyman
Play that old guitar
Don’t think twice bogeyman
That’s just what it’s for
Don’t think twice, you’re alright
Didn’t know you worried ‘bout it all
Ain’t no use in wonderin’ now
Hum your way through that line man
Just keep on boogyin’ down
You ain’t never gonna die man
You’ll just keep ramblin’ on
From one bogeyman to another
It’s all there is ‘til we’re gone
Don’t think twice bogeyman
Play that old guitar
Don’t think twice bogeyman
That’s just what it’s for
Don’t think twice, we’re alright
Maybe I should thank you
Put these words to a tune
Tap my foot to the mystery
And the crowd at the bogeyman saloon
Don’t know what I’d say to you
Didn’t know I’d write this song
I’ll be ramblin’ on now
‘Cuz I just ain’t slowin’ down
Don’t think twice bogeyman
Play that old guitar
Don’t think twice bogeyman
That’s just what it’s for
Don’t think twice, I’m alright
-T. Weeks
In every person I meet
I install a bit of software
It runs in the background
And pretends to be me
A little Tyler-bot
At their service
Ad-free
And one of a kind
Based on what they remember
About what happened
When we met
It’s easy to open
Just think or say my name
It’ll dance to the front
Some Tyler-bots are friendly
Some are wise
Some are assholes
Some are funny
Some are boring
Some motivate
Some criticize
Who knows how many there are
I’m curious about the Tyler-bots
Do I recognize them?
Do they recognize me?
How many are monsters?
Or angels?
Or nothing at all?
When I cut to black
They’ll outlive me by decades
You’re welcome
Click HERE to download
-T. Weeks
Life Immense 