Hand Poised On Knob

Hand Poised On Knob

You’ve had your bags packed
For a very long time
No chance to think it over
Just grabbed your essentials
Essentially you’re gone.

But still you remain
For what or why
You’re not sure yourself
And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

And that’s a problem
Isn’t it?

Remaining behind the door
Hand on knob
Certain of the monster behind you
Not sure of the monsters beyond
Duffle bag on your back
Mouth dry as cotton
Frozen
So you remain another day.

But your bags are packed
And in your head you’re gone
Living your life this way
One day at a time
One monster clawing at your back
God knows what waiting beyond.

© Copyright 2012 Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.

Complete

Complete

I‘ll take what’s left of you

And reassemble your pieces

No need for glue

No use for twine

For you’re perfect broken

Shattered

Pieces long gone.

I’ll lay you across the table,

my jigsaw.

The sum of your parts

Telling a story

Filled with gaping holes

That make perfect sense

Only for me.

Copyright © 2012 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.

Treason

Treason

(acoustic guitar)

 

My words they’ve been swept away

Feeling much the castaway

If only I could bring back yesterday now,

It’s all treason

It’s all treason

Your eyes blaze like July.

Still there’s nothing I remember

Of your cold heart December

Such subtleties whispering goodbye.

My thoughts they’ve been led astray

Searching for the right of way

If only I could have the right to say now,

What’s your reason

What’s your reason

Your eyes blaze like July.

Still there’s nothing I remember

Of our snowbound December

Such casualties of war and of lies.

It’s all treason

It’s all treason

Your eyes blaze like July.

Still there’s nothing I remember

Of your cold heart December

Such subtleties whispering goodbye.

It’s all treason

It’s all treason

It’s all treason

It’s all treason

Such subtleties whispering goodbye.

Copyright © 2013 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.

I Just Want

In some past life, I lived in New Orleans.  I’m quite sure of it.

Perched on the stoop of a jazz club, guitar in hand.  Crooning some laid back melody.  A sultry connection of souls.

In some past life, I lived in New Orleans.  Sang for the living.  Made music for the dead.

I wrote this song some time ago.  Who knows…maybe even longer than that.  I fancy I was a silky tongued musician.  Nothing more than a smoky silhouette in a Big Easy doorway.

You might have heard me sing this before.  In some past life.

I’m quite sure of it…

I Just Want

I don’t want to take your clothes off, baby

I just want to lay here and look deep into your eyes.

I don’t want to take your clothes off, baby

I just want to lay here and look deep into your eyes.

Feel the magic grow between us, darling

A man never felt so alive

So alive.

(instrumental)

I don’t want to scare you, baby

I just want to steal your breath away.

I don’t want to scare you, baby

I just want to steal your breath away.

Feel your hair brush against my neck, darling

Melt this night down into day

Into day.

What you got I want a piece of, sugar

From your toes straight to your fingertips.

You know you’re always on my mind, sugar

I can’t wait to kiss your honey lips.

I’ll be the shoulder you can lean on

I’ll be the mountain you can’t miss.

(instrumental)

I don’t want to take your clothes off, baby

I just want to undress you with my eyes.

I don’t want to take your clothes off, baby

I just want to undress you with my eyes.

Feel you tremble beneath my fingers, darling

Make your tender heart come alive

Come alive.

I don’t want you to frown no more, baby

I just want to keep all your clouds away.

I don’t want you to frown no more, baby

I just want to keep all your clouds away.

Be the sun to keep you growing, darling

Be the music behind all you say

All you say.

Copyright © 2013 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.

Water Runs Thicker

I don’t know

You say that you’re blood

But water runs thicker than you do.

You don’t disguise it that well

You’re as fake as hell

And you don’t fool me no more.

No, you don’t fool me no more.

Well thanks

Thanks for nothing

Should I commend you for your lack of support

I must admit I once fell for your lies

And all those kind thoughts you purport.

You go on living your life while you use mine as your dump

So pick up your litter, why can’t you just figure out

I’m sick of being the chump

I don’t know

I thought you were blood

But it seems I bleed easier than you do.

You don’t disguise it that well

You’re as clueless as hell

And I don’t want you round here no more.

No, you’re not welcome here no more.

Well thanks

Thanks for nothing

Should I commend you for your lack of support

I must admit I once fell for your lies

And all those kind thoughts you purport.

You go on living your life while you use mine as your dump

So pick up your litter, why can’t you just figure out

I’m sick of being the chump

I don’t know

You say that you’re blood

But water runs thicker than you do.

Water runs thicker than you do.

You don’t disguise it that well

You’re as fake as hell

And you don’t fool me no more.

No, you don’t fool me no more.

You go on living your life while you use mine as your dump

So pick up your litter, why can’t you just figure out

I’m sick of being the chump

So sick of being the chump.

I’m so tired of being your chump.

Copyright © 2012 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.

Get Myself Warm

Another of my songs…

Get Myself Warm

I’ve got a bullet on the table right next to me,

But my brain’s already loaded with lead.

Cause I’ve taken more shots than I care for,

And I’ve since been left here for dead.

Sooner or later I’ll rise again

Push myself up from the ground

Before new shots ring out, please leave me some whiskey

So I can at least get myself warm.

I’ve got an arrow on the chair just across from me,

But my heart’s been pierced by this sword.

I should learn not to play with these sharp toys,

Lest I strike this same sorry old chord.

Sooner or later I’ll rise again

Push myself up from the ground

Before new shots ring out, please leave me some whiskey

So I can at least get myself warm.

I don’t recall wearing this bull’s-eye

I don’t recall wearing this mark

Is it something I can purge myself free of

Or am I destined to suffer this course?

I’ve got a bullet on the table right next to me,

But my brain’s already loaded with lead.

Cause I’ve taken more shots than I care for,

And I’ve since been left here for dead.

Sooner or later I’ll rise again

Push myself up from the ground

Before new shots ring out, please leave me some whiskey

So I can at least get myself warm.

Sooner or later I’ll rise again

Push myself up from the ground

Before new shots ring out, please leave me some whiskey

So I can at least get myself warm.

Copyright © 2012 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.

West Coast Masquerade

West Coast Masquerade

Writing my blog is a bit of a trick.  Like a magician, I employ smoke & mirrors.  Not that I’m attempting to mislead you.  No, not by a longshot.  But more often than not, I fill the pages of my horror blog with anything but horror.  I’ve mentioned before that I’m trying to strike the right balance of some story excerpts here or there, or possibly even a flash fiction piece written especially for my blog (much like my flash piece “Judge” in my previous post).  You guys know I’m uncomfortable “selling” myself, yet I have to push to do just that.

Here’s the thing…something I’m beginning to hear more often - and that’s that you think I’m different.  Well, I’m different in my approach.  I want you to slowly grow to know me.  Me.  The man.  If there’s anything to learn from me, anything to remember, it’s this: I’m not a one trick pony.  I don’t want you to have the horror.  I want you to have the man.  And only then will the horror be yours…

I wrote this song some time ago.  Spoke with a friend of mine who was having some relationship issues.  The man she was involved with was anything but involved with her.  By her accounts, he treated her very poorly, yet she felt powerless to do a thing.  We’ve all been there, haven’t we?  In some form or another?  I know I have.

I gave her the best advice I could.  That’s what friends do.  But I hurt for her.  I sat down one night & penned this with the thought of giving her some empowerment from afar.  Needless to say, one must choose one’s own course of action.  I’ll never speak ill of my friend.  She chose to keep the guy.

But I got to keep the song…

West Coast Masquerade

How could this happen again

How could he do this again, she asks

all alone

She’s all alone.

She won’t go though this again

Won’t stick this through to the end

all alone

She’s all alone.

So she straightens out her makeup

and paints the smile back on her face

Rehearses the words she’s going to tell him

Rehearses the way she’s going to say

I’m throwing you back where you belong

I’m throwing you back where you belong

to your callous pals and their snobby gals

I’m through with this west coast masquerade.

I’m throwing you back where you belong

Back where you belong

to your momma’s side where you always hide

I’m through with this west coast masquerade.

She bears the mileage from home

Yet he’s never made her feel home, she knows

all alone

She’s all alone.

So she straightens out her makeup

 and paints the smile back on her face

Rehearses the words she’s going to tell him

Rehearses the way she’s going to say

I’m throwing you back where you belong

I’m throwing you back where you belong

 to your callous pals and their snobby gals

I’m through with this west coast masquerade.

Cause I’m throwing you back where you belong

Back where you belong

to your momma’s side where you always hide

I’m through with this west coast masquerade.

So she straightens out her makeup

and paints the smile back on her face

Tonight’s the night she’ll finally leave him

Tonight’s the night she’ll finally say

I’m throwing you back where you belong

I’m throwing you back where you belong

with your rolling eyes and your alibis

I’m so done with this west coast masquerade.

Cause I’m throwing you back where you belong

Back where you belong

to your callous pals and their snobby gals

 I’m through with this west coast masquerade.

I’m through with this west coast masquerade.

I’m over this west coast masquerade.

Copyright © 2012 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.

Crack Whore

It’s not always horror fiction for me.  Sometimes I’ll take my pad & pen & scribble random thoughts down.  I enjoy plucking nothing from the air & making something out of it.  If I’m lucky, I’ll finish with a poem.  Or a song.  Now, I’m not saying that they’re any good.  I’m only saying that I’m good at taking my pad & pen & scribbling random thoughts down.  So by all means, you be the judge.

I wrote this sitting at a wine bar one night.  I don’t remember the wine (a Malbec?), but I remember the imagery associated with this little poem.  When I was done, I felt compelled to walk the streets…

CRACK WHORE

Crack whore

wants more

than I could give.

Took all I had

never left sad

knows I’m worse off than she.

Walks the streets

the rain

makes her reflection

look like two or three.

Says she’s sorry for me

makes me think

the tricks

she turns

am I the biggest?

She’s my crack whore

living

while I die.

Pants down

on her knees

sucks my dreams dry

while I fill her with false belief.

Yeah, she’s good at that

better to be good at something

than nothing at all.

Daybreak wrapped in stale sheets

she’s sweet nectarine blush atop cheap perfume skin

yeah, we all wanted more

yeah, I wanted anything at all.

Copyright © 2011 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.