Jon Watts is a dedicated member of the Religious Society of Friends as well as a prolific songwriter and poet. He has spent the last two years touring extensively throughout North America and is now in the studio recording his 3rd full-length album.
I can’t tell you
all of the things you don’t see
if your eyes are open
they’re unfocused
and if I had
a little magic left
I could love you out of this mess
hocus pocus
But I’ve been empty
I haven’t had any love for you
the most I could do is
keep breathing
this is so painful
if we can’t sit at the same table
then I won’t know
what poison you’ve been eating
But I’m not playing it
these awful guessing games
have me trying to name the un-nameable
and now you’re running away
and I’ve stopped running at all
so I’ll just sit and face fate
and that’s a face full.
I don’t know how to tell you
anything at all
I don’t know if it would help if I was asked
so now I’m sitting, hand to chin
waiting for next fall
maybe that’s when the past will have passed
I’ve absorbed
quite a bit of nothingness
and that could mean anything
but at least now I see nothing clearly
I say to friends, no, she hasn’t said anything
maybe she doesn’t want to be near me
this is the ghost jon speaking
I never thought you’d kill me too
I guess it’s redundant to say now
that I loved you
and that I trusted you
and that my hurt and my anger
are because you
didn’t choose to
follow through
so when I come to your place
and try to say goodbye
and you don’t show your face
you just hide
why should I believe that you’re alright?
I don’t believe that.
And so I’m hurt right now
and you’ve bound up my lips
with a fear of action, loss,
fear of thoughtlessness
I was too trusting
I didn’t trust enough
and now I fall over apologies and such
son of a crutch
now you play me like a xylophone
that won’t shut up
but I’ve been silent for eight months
I’m listening to nothing
trying to make sense of
something so nonsensical
a cynic wouldn’t sense that it was coming
and start running
so now we’ve died
no one can identify the killer
I think i know the murder weapon
but I’ll leave that for September
and I’ll remember you
I’ll send this simple gift of truth to my future self
remind him that you put me through hell
I love you and I miss you but you’re not worth hell.
This is
an interfaith dialogue.
It’s intergenerational.
This is on the internet.
It’s personal, sensational.
This is
individual, and
group consciousness.
It’s emotional and logical
abstract common sense.
This is
solidness.
it’s tangible, it’s something you can touch.
If you’re capable of loving
you can’t love too much
…and if you’re broken, this can heal you
or help you heal yourself
This is spoken word and song
and it’s only here to help.
This is art and it’s important
Support it
It’s not enough that you enjoy it
I’m asking you to join it
So if you’re listening
then grab a pen,
write a letter to yourself
or to someone else
join the conversation.
write a song or a poem
learn to let go
It’s not the end of the world
Someone else can feel it too
I’m a human being just like you
And I’m honest in this forum
this formula’s enduring
all the time and the attention it’s afforded
And it’s only getting better
as I relax and sit back
let my muse do the talking
while my brain writes the raps
You should try it
it’s been worth
every boulder
that I’ve shouldered
just to get to be an artist for another sacred moment
like playing a show out in the rain
if no one came except for Spirit
and my love for life
then that’s audience enough
Money is another story
but that story’s kind of boring
Just pay for this CD
and then no one has to worry
This is art and it’s important
Support it
It’s not enough that you enjoy it
I’m asking you to join it
So if you’re listening
then grab a pen,
write a letter to yourself
or to someone else
join the conversation.
write a song or a poem
learn to let go
this is art and it’s only here to help you get settled and express a little better what you felt, a love letter to yourself or your sadness or whatever you’ve embedded in your psyche, your community, your health. this is to your health.
I’m like friendship
because I’m half dead.
I’m like a drop of food coloring.
We’re all seeing red.
Now I’m asleep,
but I’ve got the guts to admit it.
I know what fulling living is,
and I’m partially existing.
Now I’m alone.
I’m just alone.
Even if you do call me,
I won’t pick up my phone.
My living situation’s
looking pretty bare bones.
I spend my time considering
the validity of my old poems.
Don’t look at me,
just look away.
You could ask me all your questions
but I won’t find much to say.
I’m not old.
this is my birth day.
My story’s not been told
because I started it today.
Listen to lies
and then speak the truth.
You don’t need to be a freedom fighter
just to have proof
that the truth is beautiful
just the way it is.
I live in condescension of these fibs.
-or-
I’ve got a living contradiction in my ribs.
This is called my summer.
Also, “things fall apart.”
It doesn’t need an introduction
or a lead guitar.
I could feel it in my body
like you might feel your heart
and it’s beating.
If I could say two words
that would live forever.
It’s: authenticity
(and then I’d think of something clever)
I’ve been having trouble speaking lately
listen to my voice.
Luckily, we all have a choice.
Listen to lies
and then speak the truth.
You don’t need to be a freedom fighter
just to have proof
that the truth is beautiful
just the way it is.
I live in condescension of these fibs.
-or-
I’ve got a living contradiction in my ribs.
We are lovers of the Truth.
And that gives us courage
because we know
We’ll find a way to love you.
Some of us are young.
Others, alcoholics.
And we all know it matters what you call it.
Listen, I’m not feeling afraid.
I’m not afraid of clarity.
If anything I’m grateful when it comes.
But I haven’t felt too clear,
and so I’m waiting with sincerity.
One day I got lost in my shoes.
I was living with bruises,
defending it with two fists.
Bounce to the mountaintop.
Look in the thrift shops.
Find a little nice peice of linen,
living sin,
and
for your pen top,
send it in a tin top.
Listen:
when offense is given,
that’s a thin slice of living like a gentleman.
Be a gentle woman.
Women sending signals mixed within
any silly, simple little sentences.
Symptoms include:
a total lack of food
And in a bad mood,
in a sad back room
the synapses conclude
that the fad ends soon
and the mad little savages
that battle rapped
with their mavericky battle axes
entrapped within
another massive fashion magazine’s blasephemous tactics said:
“it’s just a little harrasment.”
We’re great.
Your sedatives can keep us sedate.
And while same sex marriage stays state to state
We’re going local.
Pick up the mic and throw vocals
in your phonebook. Send it to folks that you know.
look, we’re related.
Some thumbsucker’s belated
little saint thinks
the same shit is sane so we traded.
Save a bit of peace
as an interesting treat
for when you’re jaded.
Fame came late and now it’s faded.
I’m playing with my own identity.
Listening in can be free, see
Everyone is blind.
Finding their sight from behind, right
Mind the light.
And assign my problems
so someone can solve them
Look and how my hands
can’t stop these goblins
a long bomb’s falling
from the bogs of Conchord
where our fathers got lost in the fog.
Our forefathers got lost in Boston.
It’s the fault of Lord Baltimore
and it’s all the more solemn
for the following of psalms.
Some sons and daughters
of the hypocrites, which,
to the benefit of many,
found themselves giving in to sentimental money.
We’re great.
Your sedatives can keep us sedate.
And while same sex marriage stays state to state
We’re going local.
Pick up the mic and throw vocals
in your phonebook. Send it to folks that you know.
look, we’re related.
Some thumbsucker’s belated
little saint thinks
the same shit is sane so we traded.
Save a bit of peace
as an interesting treat
for when you’re jaded.
Fame came late and now it’s faded.
