As the crane flies.......
Angelic Peach
(title borrowed from Marci)
Are we the grains of sand?
Or do we become the sea?
Holding the whole world in hand,
Or numerous lights floating free?
What is death anymore,
In this game we play?
Who is left to keep the score?
In the garden of night and day.
Who will ask the questions,
when finally my voice grows still?
Will they remember my suggestions?
Does it matter if they will?
Here, now, I will play on
the sweet music of my soul,
Not minding to be Fate's pawn
sleep like burning embers in the coal,
Lay away and dream,
Beneath the trees of delight
What reality may be or may seem
Together choice of wrong of right.
Live with no fear
Eternally in gray,
Let the final voice I hear
Be from the light of day.
~98
Peanut Butter Death
Sticky, sweet existance
soft and creamy life
When music seeks to poisen
even pillows filled with strife,
dying on the inside
thick and smoothe unconsciousness
finding no place to hide
in voluptuous tastelessness
and flamboyant solitude
Memories like peanut butter,
The regret in which we wallow
thick, and hard to swallow
blind can see, but only in the dark
like this oh so tempting death
Sorrow leaves its mark
Wade into tomorrow
and all the fatening days ahead
to finally take a rest from the inconsequential,
Choking on peanut butter 'til you're dead.
Away the bird flew...
On a delicate life splinter
Knowing truly
All roads lead back to self
Here begins the dream scape
Illusions and truth lie scattered here
as firey stars.........