bottledWalter

Written: 10/25/01
Words: Walter Koning

My vision is skewed
My eyes are glazed
My contacts stick
To my tearless eyes

I can’t see straight
I stayed up way too late
Now I’m paying the price
In this sightless state

What I need is to go to sleep
To close my eyes
Slip away off deep

Once again I lay in bed
My eyes are closed
They roll back in my head

I see the water falling down
Around the darkness of my pupils
The fluid surrounds

My vision comes back to me
My glaze disappears
My sight still skewed
By these endless tears

When I awake again
When I awake my friend
Is when I awake again and again
And when I awake at the end

I awake to this feeling often
I run and I run once again
I close my eyes to get away
I find that there’s never a way

Now and again the feeling fades
The path lights bright
For my eyes to gaze

I stare a glance to memorize
The view, the feeling inside my eyes
Little remains when it’s said and done
Little remains except a battle I’ve won

I close my eyes and recognize
All the feelings I tend to keep inside
Not dry not sore not restless anymore
The fluid remains to coat the sores

Written: 4/18/01
Words: Walter Koning

We could stand up here and preach to you
With intentions over the top

We could write all day all of our dreams for you
And still not even dent your confused mind

We could keep a journal of our thoughts
Hoping to find the answers that will help you

But what it boils down to is that you’ve got
To want to listen and develop yourself

No ones going to change anything if the thing to
Be changed is opposed through and through

The only way for things to improve is if
We improve your attitude gradually

Improve it too fast, you’ll just be swayed back later
Force it on you and you’ve got our ways, not developed ways

You’ve got to learn what matters and seek help
For how to get there

That’s where we come in
We’ve got your answers

We stand up here and preach to you
But you’ve got to develop yourself

We write all day our dreams for you
But you’ve got to develop yourself

Written: 5/25/02
Words: Walter Koning

Sandy Pines
Big Whitefish Lake
Camping grounds
Short one tent stake

Living our lives together
Without breaks
With Christ our Lord
Forgiving our mistakes

Jill I look to you
Every day I wake
And pray the Lord
My soul to take

But before he does
All I ask for
Is the love it takes
To cherish you more

Written: 3/1/01
Words: Walter Koning

I’m no germinating wildflower
I’m no casual daisy
I’m no loose cannon
And I’m definitely not any more horny than you
I just want you in my bed tonight

I’m no rambling night club owner
I’m not expecting you to be here tomorrow
I’m no fool to think you know me
And I’m still not any more horny than you
I just want you in my bed tonight

I’m no player of poker
I’m no thief of thieves
I’m no cards night social stogie smoker
And I’m probably just as horny as you
So I just want you in my bed tonight
I just want you in my bed tonight

Written: 3/21/02
Words: Walter Koning

Sittin’ on the corner playing guitar
Got my first tip in my jar
A buck seventeen or was it twenty two
I’ll be coming back to play for you
If I keep playing this lousy way
My only friends will stay away
But I’m getting better every day
It won’t be long now before they watch me play

Whoa!

Guitar at night and work in the day
Someday I’ll pay my bills with the notes I play
I’m getting rich
I’m getting loaded
I’ll be rich and I’ll be loaded
I’m getting rich
I’m getting loaded
I’ll be rich and I’ll be loaded

A buck seventeen or was it twenty two
Not enough now but it’ll get higher soon
Playing guitar by the light of the moon
Too many years learning in my room
I’m bound to play better soon
Someday my cash flow is bound to boom
Until then I’ll just smile for the people I know

Megan stopped in for coffee and friends
Told me about the sweeping blonde Shannon
Aaron stopped to have a cigarette
Listened to me play
Told me not to stop practicing yet

A little while later
Deeper in the night
A cute little Maggie looked cold at first sight
She and I chatted while I played
The best I could but getting better every day

Maggie was nice and I hope to see her again
I’d think of all these people who may someday be friends
All because of my sitting on the corner playing guitar

I’m getting rich
I’m getting loaded
I’ll be rich
I’ll be loaded
A buck seventeen or was it twenty two
It’s enough to have me play guitar for you
I’m getting rich
I’m getting loaded
I’ll be rich and I’ll be loaded
A buck seventeen or was it twenty two
Plenty enough for me to play guitar for you

Written: 10/26/01
Words: Walter Koning

She waits alone every day
Face painted pink every day
She sits near BART panhandling away
From commuters getting her daily pay
She sits on her chair hunched over
Cup in her hand flowing over

Woman do you give a damn
Woman can someone lend you a hand
Woman are you really poor
Why do you spend your day
Painted up like a whore

You look like a modern day gypsy
You can’t deny the resemblance
Are you really poor or is it all
A fat lie you use to survive

Woman do you give a damn
Woman I want to refuse my hand
You wave and say hi to everyone
Neighbor to all but a friend to none
You wave and say hi to everyone
Neighbor to all but a friend to none

Written: 3/2/01
Words: Walter Koning

Social excellence
All the party clothes
Politically correct
Well I’m not any of those

I want to be rebellious
I want a little personal anarchy
I’m doing what I want now
Not what I am told

There’s so much time to worry
About the frivolous small details
And so many things to stop me
But why should I really care

Social excellence
All the party clothes
Politically correct
Well I’m not any of those

Maybe I’m not too feisty
And it’s safe to say I’m non-violent
Put together your army
I’ll be without me I’m confident
Conscientious objector, small scale pacifist
I’m surely not interested in killing
A bunch of names on anyone’s list

Social excellence
All the party clothes
Politically correct
Well I’m not any of those

Give me some time to charm you
I’ll show some of what I’ve got
Take a second to watch me
And dapper Prince Charming I am not
I’m not rude or incendiary
Rather blunt but polite

Social excellence
All the party clothes
Politically correct
Well I’m not any of those

I’ve got a friend named Mick
He lives on the streets all alone
But he says he’s got a couple of kids
And he doesn’t know where they are now
What a bunch of creeps
They let him panhandle and freeze

Well he’s been awfully nice to me
Even gave me some Girl Scout cookies
Tagalongs that someone gave to him
He doesn’t eat straight sugar
He’s got dentures and probably doesn’t brush

Social excellence
All the party clothes
Politically correct
Well I’m not any of those

I may want some anarchy
And personal righteous expression
But I’m still humbled by gifts
Given by a man without self satisfaction

Written: 9/9/08
Words: Walter Koning

From time to time I miss it so
I go walking around
Wherever and everywhere
The wind takes me to and fro

Past the city skyscrapers
And streetscape bums
And suits with customized licenses
On the walls of their offices
And the plates on the cars
Parked in the stalls
That I pass
As I pass on by

I walk a mile in their shoes
Swearing that my feet hurt
From the straps
Or the heels
Or the beauty that escalates
From a whistle from a passerby
To an unwanted pass

As I pass on by
A lunchtime hotspot
Fresh sandwiches made to order
Burritos from south of the border
A sports bar when a drink is in order
They’re everywhere here
And there I am
Dropped down in the middle of this city

From time to time I miss it so
I go walking around
Wherever and everywhere
The wind takes me to and fro

From time to time I miss it so
I go walking around
Wherever and everwhere

Written: 3/8/01
Words: Walter Koning

Just another show, another day, another ride, another gig
Just a bunch of kids, a bunch of youths, a bunch of trouble, (just) a bunch of freaks
Where’s the beer? Where’s the stage? Where’s the tab? Where are the girls?
Where’s the party? Where’s the noise? Where’s the fun? Where’s the news?

It ain’t all that they show you on VH-1
It’s a bunch of bands with lousy vocals and a drum
Loud guitars. The amps too loud. Lyrics fall away into the background.
Food prices soar high. Only two people work the booth. Lines grow long.

Just another show, another day, another ride, another gig
Just a bunch of kids, a bunch of youths, a bunch of trouble, (just) a bunch of freaks
Where’s the beer? Where’s the stage? Where’s the tab? Where are the girls?
Where’s the party? Where’s the noise? Where’s the fun? Where’s the news?

Standing on the perimeter you’re lying low, a wallflower waiting for the show
The drum begins. Guitars chime in. The bass plays those rhythmic chords.
Still against the wall, the show seems dull, the masses push, you feel no vibe.
That singer leans into the crowd, slappin’ fives, feeling alive
Energy builds up, the wallflower stands up, the pit shakes up
In the middle of the herd, kids pushing and shoving, kids skankin’ and loving it
All fall forward, the smooshed front line falls back, wave-like swells
You feel the vibe, in the middle, off the wall, someone falls, you pick them up
You feel the vibe, this love, this emotion, the show plays on, you’re in the moment,
Wondering why those kids are still leaning against the wall.

In the moment all feels universal. Whatever you feel everyone feels.
You’re doing it, everyone does, there’s no question.
You’re on the wall, everyone feels like you do.
This show is dull. No energy. No vibe.
You’re not dancing. No one’s dancing. The party’s dull.
You feel the hook, your arm sways, legs get crazed. You’re body movin’.
The room is alive, the party’s rockin’, the energy’s at 10, this show is alive.

It’s all in your head.
You’re in the zone. The energy is yours.
Give some of it and others will follow.
Follow you, you’re the leader.
The show is what you make of it.
Standing on the wall you can’t feel the emotion of it.
Get in the middle of the crowd, amongst the dancing fools, the moshers, in the hot center.
Or go off and turn on a CD, it’ll feel the same.

Written: 3/15/01
Words: Walter Koning

BART girls
CGOB’s
Standing near the door
I watch her from afar
She glances over my way
I’m looking but turn away
Then I’m staring at her
A matter of time before she sees me
She glances over my way
I look deep into her eyes
She stares right back at me
For what seems an eternity
Only a short instance
Make my stomach do a little dance
Perhaps an Irish Jig
I continue to watch from afar
If she’s interested she’ll keep looking
I’ll stare a little longer
Ah ha she’s got a bead on me
She’s getting up
Walking my way
I’ll say hello. She’ll be my girl.
She takes a deep breath. I take her in.
The BART driver overrides this subtle script.
“Rockridge!”

BART guys
Pigs, all of them
Everyday it’s the same
Only new guys, still without names
I look good, a babe if you will.
I see this guy
Standing near the door
He’s staring at all the women
But I’m hoping for more
He looks my way
I stare right back
He wrenches out a little smile
I start to attack
I walk his way, intending to speak
He glances around, nonchalant so to speak
We exchange stares once again
He’ll be just like the rest
Stare all ride long but never
Say hello or make jest
I’ll open the conversation then
I take a deep breath. He’s still standing there.
I open my mouth. His ears perk up.
“Rockridge!”
Damn. Gotta go.

Written: 4/7/01
Words: Walter Koning

Sometimes I get lost in the music
Other times that’s where I find myself

Pairs of white lights coming while pairs of red lights are running

I’ve seen beautiful skies of shades of blue
And of shades of black or gray
Sunsets with brilliant reds, backdrops of purple tinted clouds
The hills provide an emptiness like no other, with their lack of color

As my paints can’t do justice to natural color scapes
My pen can hardly put to words the vision of a sunset

Written: 3/27/01
Words: Walter Koning

One night I was wandering, ran across a man, blood on his hands, said it was from the common working man, I started running.

Turned around to see how far away I was, still saw the man, standing by a can, digging for his vitamins, I wondered who he was.

I ran back to this man by the can, looking for some scraps, he needed a nap, so I offered him my pack, it had a bit of spam.

Still needed a nap but kept digging for scraps.

I asked him of his name, right left one two, his fists weren’t my answer, went back in the ring for more, sir what’s your name, uppercut in the air.

He smelled of alcohol, I smelled his scraps, clothes worn threadbare, woolen hat on his head, teeth kind of yellow, more brown by my eyes.

I offered him my pack with the spam, hi jibba jabba’d help with these words “You’re in the game now.,” non-sequiter, out of place.

Hanging out with the drunk guy, saw the world in front of me, people looking my way until I look back in their eyes, look away, look ahead, avoid me.

I’m the old drunk guy with nothing, left alone to lose, digging for scraps, throwing punches at a fool, thinks he can help by giving up some crap.

Can’t get a job, ain’t got an address, can’t get a home, my boss is left over Oscar Meyer scraps, the suits in the oval offices have my name but don’t have the time.

Wearing dirty clothes, acting crazy, I get more tips, onlookers glad their souls ain’t in my shoes, they think I’m lazy, clench their lips.

Tried working 9 to 5, in an office overworked, took two hour lunches to get away, my boss chimed back with go away, now I’m just a stray.

Man what’s your name, maybe I can help.
Right, you’ll rob me like the rest.
I’m innocent, just trying to help, tell me what you need.

I need money, I need food, four walls and running water, I need a shower every day, brush my teeth so they don’t decay, it’ll help me get a job so they say.

I don’t like working anyway, tried it once, left after a day, my boss was a twenty something ladder climbing crony, reported to a manager addicted to making money, the owner was a slimy profit taking hypnotist, I wasn’t about to fall asleep to that crap.

Things have changed, there’s honest owners now.

So what am I to do? Can’t get a job, ain’t got an address, can’t get a home, my boss is left over Oscar Meyer scraps, the suits in the oval office have my name but don’t have the time.

Maybe I can help.

No way man they still play this game, they get scared when they see this blood on my hands, coming from the common working man, just like you they all start running as fast as they can.

Written: 3/19/01
Words: Walter Koning

If I were singing in the Park, would you sing with me?
If you were playing your guitar, could I watch you play?
If we were all thumping drums, would you help us thump a little louder?
If we let you throw our football, would you bring it back?
If I hit you with my frisbee, could you let it slide?

Would an apology be enough?
Would my empathy get your forgiveness?
If I swore not to do it again
If I promised it was a one-time thing
If you felt the wind blow this once and you could just let this go
If you would be so kind as to let it slide
Let it slide
If you understood my intentions and would relieve me of contention
If you would be so kind as to let it slide
Let it slide

If I were singing on a hill, would you look up to me?
If I were dancing in public places, would you dance with me?
If I had pennies to my name, could you share with me?
If you gave me your word, would you be honest with me?
If we were to help you out, would you live gratefully?
If there’s a way to help you out, would you tell it to me?
If I hit you with my frisbee, would you let it slide?

-Chorus-

If I gave you my heart, what would you give back to me?
If you allowed me to share your time, what would you expect from me?
If we had a plethora of money, could you donate it with me?
If I lost all of my patience one day, would you still be patient with me?
If I gave everyone my positive spirit, could they acknowledge it please?
If I hit you with my frisbee, would you let it slide?

If I were helping feed the homeless, would you lend your hands too?
If I were picking up some garbage, would you volunteer too?
If you had a vision of great proportion, you could share that too.
If we ran a project to share our knowledge, I would see you there too.
If we gave up our own self interests, it would take only a day or two.
If I hit you with my frisbee, could you just let it slide?
Let it slide. Let it slide.
If you understood my intentions and would relieve me of contentions
If I hit you with my frisbee, could you just let it slide?
Let it slide.
Let it slide.
Life is more communal when we are all sincere with each other
So we can hit you with our frisbee and have you just let is slide.