Dancing like fire, we spin like planets
In that moment we froze like ice
Paused, momentary illusion
I looked through the mirror, into another reality

As the mirror shows my true heart
I quivered like prey
The room wept with me
As the angels feathers fell lovely on the floor

And in those feathers, I felt her soul
So stunning and tamed, yet violently wild
She spun stories of love around the men’s heads
In her hourglass, a web of souls wait for their ends

Why, do I love you, so?
That's the question you ask, each day;
and, it seems as though,
I don't even know,
because I can't think of anything, to say!

It occurred to me to try...what the hell!
I will answer the question you ask;
in deep love, I fell
so, I am, pretell,
the only one, who could accomplish this task.

Impeach

You're Beelzebub's minion, 
The devils disciple don't
tell me of your long arrival
your crucifixion revival gone wrong

A life given up to a drug induced
death song the lonely wasted
belong, I don't concede to weakness
for the eternal damnation of this soul,
my belief swallows this whole.

My essence your toll I'd rather walk on
burning coals than carry your scorn,
still refusing to belong, have yet to
hear your resounding gong

Today, I am the tinman
but, not because I have no heart,

but, because I must,
illiminate rust,
so, my day can officially start.

Sometimes, I am the lion
lacking courage for my day,

but you, my dear,
can ease my fear,
and, I can go on, my merry way.

Most days, I awake as the scarecrow
for, I start out completely inane,

not crazy, but
more like an idiot,
because, my body starts, sans the use of my brain.

But, like I said, today...the tinman
and my patience is growing, thin;

Rescue Me
Rescue me from the scourges evil,
Oh master twere life’s end arrives,
Peace has taken wings,
From my eyes,
Without surprise
I‘ve been left with a spine
Without a spine,
A weakling decrepit with age
Oh how a person once with rage,
My life has been reduced
To that of a page
Remorse is not the word,
The life needs to ebb away,
Oh Lord upon my life, I pray
Tis time for you take me away.

It's time I check the spring pasture
during this rare late winter thaw
beneath bright skies of deep azure.
I'll walk there by way of the draw.

The usual crop of winter stones
which earth has pushed above the grass,
white quartz shining like old bones.
I'll gather up some as I pass.

They'll add to a stone walls girth
or outline the clear spring's source.
Of rocks there never is a dearth.
It will take some work, of course.

We are all strange and sad,
so close in nature's breath as to be
somewhat the same human discrepancy,
unhardened children were we,
happily ignorant ...
I miss that today.

My tattoo's need color and the sag worked out,
funny isn't it, knowing what's needed and turning
away, keeping it down until explosions occur.
Damn humans ... capable of greatness, but we sure
fuck up along the way, making enemies of strange
and wonderful others ...
I miss them all today.

Kill

Skulking in the undergrowth
Violation fills your eyes.
Dirty putrid heart breaker.

Over taking all that was good
Contaminating with your lies,
Oozing Immorality and disdain,

Invading, only death remains,
kill.

Squirming, author of my pain,
kill.

You project your filth
And deal the losing cards
You are the sinner

But we will overcome
Your clutches, your petty tyranny
You’ll lose at last

Mama wants to hold you
and rock you off to sleep,
because, you're all my babies
and my love for you runs, deep.

I've done all that I've been asked to do
I've even jumped trough an extra "hoop";
but, that matters not, to some involved,
they think I'm the REAL Betty Boop!

You must believe me when I tell you
that you're loved with my whole heart,
what I worry about, is what's been said
to prevent our re-union to finally start.

When fire burns cold and gives no light
and noontime is as dark as night
and birds prefer to walk, not fly
and stars desert the clear night sky

When whippoorwills no longer sing
nor bullfrogs harrumph in the late spring
and fresh breezes no longer blow
and Everest is bare of snow

When rivers cease coursing to the sea
and politicians cease to disagree
and fishes forget how to swim
and quasars are considered dim