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The Little Archerís Mischief

 
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stiggy
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Joined: 04 Dec 2006
Posts: 334
Location: Bedlam

PostPosted: Tue Jun 18, 2013 11:43 am    Post subject: The Little Archerís Mischief Reply with quote

The Little Archerís Mischief

Love's arrows strike unannounced,
In such a mysterious way,
Though many know not how,
They don't forget the day.

So many have fallen prey
To the little archer's pounce,
For they speak the truth, when they say,
'Love's arrows strike unannounced.'

They streak through the air without a sound,
And nobody knows from whence they came,
For the moment Love strikes, comes about,
In such a mysterious way.

His arrows have been known to slay,
When, but for a moment, you let your guard down,
For Love may come most any day,
Though many know not how.

But, most people will tell you how,
'Life is never quite the same,'
And in their accounts,
They don't forget the day
Love's arrows strike.



Davy Jones' Locker

Lost to the depths, the ocean holds,
The sunken ships in waters cold,
The weight of leagues bring their burden,
Light lies dead beyond the surface,
As some things live where man is ghost.

As darkness reigns there way below,
There man may be, without a soul;
Bottomed vessels, caskets buried,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lost to the depths.

Men betrayed by a lust for gold,
Set out to seek and search for more?
Truth sends warnings grim of what had
Claimed the lives of once merry men!
No-one knows the stories untold
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lost to the depths.



The Wager Between the Satyr and the God

The young satyr sat in the shade
Passing the day away in melody,
The sound of his song
Played upon the aulos,
Drew the attention of one, Apollo.

The young satyr lifted his head,
Letting up on the reed he was blowing,
Then looked 'pon his guest,
And said to the god,
'Dare I say I'm the best to ever live?'

And for 'anything' was the bet.
Apollo being god of everything music
Thus made his wager
With the young satyr,
And among nobles the contest was set.

The young satyr took up his aulos,
Played his sweet tune to please audience,
But then Apollo
Strummed his cithara,
And neither seemed to outshine the other.

But then, in a final attempt,
Bold Apollo flipped his stringed instrument,
Played again the melody,
And the young satyr,
With his aulos, couldn't match such display.

So the young satyr lost the bet,
And Apollo wasn't one to forget,
Seeing 'anything'
Was the wager made,
He thus pinned the young satyr to a tree.

And that is usually how it goes
When a mortal opposes the gods.



Celestial Interpretations

Daylight floods the divine firmament,
As the Sun appears upon the horizon,
Bearing in kind-burning glory, radiating

Warmth that encourages life onward,
While the pure nature of light, blesses
Everything upon which it shines, showing

Adonaiís intentions, when spanning the heavens,
Concerning celestial inventions, to fill
The vast ocean of the cosmos with such beacons,
As we see first-hand, gives life to us all.



Night

The night, a raven with its black wings spread,
Takes flight, and glides across the dayís last light,
Covering the Earth with a darkened shroud,

Baring the star-filled heavens to our eyes,
As the moon reflects the ever-burning lamp,
And sits, transfixed, where all can see it die,

While the low clouds, settle in and make camp,
Hiding the heavenly face, now but a phantom,
As its presence becomes a menacing laugh,
And its steady glow is held for ransom.



Counter-Culture

'I'm feeling lucky today, Mister!'
I tell the man at the counter,
'Give me another scratch-off ticket!'

'I hope you give me a real winner!
In fact, give me the one for two dollars.
I'm feeling lucky today, Mister!'

Well, I got my money back with it...
I tell the man, 'You can keep the two dollars,
Give me another scratch-off ticket!'

Again, I scratch away with my nickel,
Telling the man at the counter,
'I'm feeling lucky today, Mister!'

Another two dollar winner!
And, again, I tell the man, only louder,
'Give me another scratch-off ticket!'

What do you know, another two dollar winner!
I tell the man who's laughing behind the counter,
'I'm feeling lucky today, Mister!
Give me another scratch-off ticket!'



The Desire to Create Thriving Verse

Many a time, I've tried to no avail,
My hands to fashion, in attempts awry;
All the times I've tried, all the times I've failed,
Like bending a nail, hopelessly aside,
By my non-adept hand holding the hammer,
Lacking skill, born through inexperience,
While I learn to observe, in like manner,
As one given the task of apprentice,
While I apply my craft, following loosely,
What I've seen accomplished by practiced hands,
As I try, in stark contrast, to make due
With the slight skill, which I already have,
And hold fast to the hope, that as I learn,
To one day be a master of thriving verse!



Wasteland

I find my mind a desolate wasteland,
Barren of form, full of empty logic,
And lacking anything that's worth a damn
Like an empty can void of product,
That easily crumples for lack of substance,
And is worthless but for its scrap value,
As is every thought that goes through my head.
A pathetic endeavor, what have you,
To think that I could even, in some way, tell you!



Words

Words are such strange beings!
Due to their sporadic nature,
They can't help but complicate,
They stand together, but are divided.

Due to their sporadic nature,
As they mingle amongst themselves,
They stand together, but are divided.
That's how they congregate.

As they mingle amongst themselves,
They can't help but complicate.
That's how they congregate.
Words are such strange beings!



Down With Boredom!

My words, a message I wish to be heard
Loud and clear, come across the page
With enough force to make your ears ring,
While I stand with loudspeaker in hand,
Poised to incite a rebellion, against the tyranny
Of boredom, and the long hours of unrest,
As we all fight for the cause, and I shout
The rallying chant of this generation,

'We must come to our senses,
Each second ought to be vivid!
We must open our eyes, and
live a little before we die!'



Somebody Kill the Rooster

In the hold of a soft sleep,
A voice calls me to wake
As my alarm clock beeps.

My bed is warm and sweet,
And Iíd rather just stay
In the hold of a soft sleep.

So, I hit snooze for a few more winks,
But soon I must face the day,
As my alarm clock beeps.

I canít deny the day is upon me,
Yet, I lay here, until Iím once again
In the hold of a soft sleep.

I find myself in pleasant dreams,
But ten minutes quickly drain away,
As my alarm clock beeps.

Whatís a few more zís
At the start of an already long day?
In the hold of a soft sleep,
Once more, my alarm clock beeps.



Around Me

I take a minute, and listen,
As my ears take in all the sounds
That surround me, in such vivid

Arrays, with everything around
Coming to life, each from actions.
I sit and imagine their source,

Many begin to encourage me,
Like the song of a little bird,
Who talks to listeners, friendly,

Whose sweet and melodious voice,
Rises upon the air, and cheers
On the day, as set before it.

Or the gentle brush of the wind,
As it cups in my ear, and whispers
To me like musings from a friend,

Which makes me smile, with a warm mirth,
And brings me to an awareness
Of his unseen presence, which comes first.

And sounds of little passer-byes,
Who rustle with the moving wind,
When autumn days collects them nigh,

And they crackle under my feet,
As each step I take, makes a sound
That somehow seems so exciting,
Like most everything around me.



Nothing is Worth Listening To
If it Doesn't Make You Want To Sing Along


If this life were a song,
It would be played so fast,
It would make your head spin.

You would be sitting still,
Untill the music begins,
Then the engines kick on!

The countdown to lift off,
You feel the roar of ignition,
Soon launching into orbit.

Not too many people
Have been where you are,
Or know where you're going.

But, then again, who knows
The power imbued in music?
Not too many live to tell.



overjoyed

eternal seasons,
amid sleeping and waking,
come to life

my spirit entwines
with forces pulling upward,
translating my being,
as if called up in rapture

holding a connection
with the divine,
my soul reflects

i drift off,
to places beyond
all that is known,
or can be told

even further
than notion can supply
for the unfamiliar

while mysteries
unfurl their wings,
and carry me
further beyond the cosmos



Drifting Forever Into the Unknown

Here I am, a drifter in space,
My body weightless, ventures
On, into the distant unknown,
Where my very presence speaks
To the emptiness, and gives it life
From the pulse inside my vessel.

Were it not for this once trepid vessel,
I wouldnít know the embrace of space.
Neither would I have given my life
To such seemingly perilous ventures,
Were it not for a defiance that speaks
And keeps pulling me into the unknown.

Yet, itís a chance meeting with the unknown,
Why Iíve climbed aboard this vessel,
And the way my palpitating heart speaks,
I would be foolish to slow its pace,
Because I know that were it ventures
One truly finds the meaning of life.

Still, itís been the pursuit of my life
To become acquainted with things unknown,
And itís taken me on many adventures.
For, to be here, in the silence of this vessel,
Gazing into the reaches of space,
I can surly say Iím listening to God speak.

And what amazing things He speaks
Into existence! How He brings to life
The myriad wonders of outer-space!
I say, ĎHow could one have possibly known
What I would be seeing from this vessel?í
This is why I set off on adventure!

After all, what is a more worthy venture,
Than to listen to the One, Who speaks
As if things were, and fills empty vessels
With such a breath of life?
Through creation He makes Himself known
Even though Heís beyond time and space.

Some of the greatest ventures in this life,
Are the ones that speak of the unknown,
And with this vessel, Iíve more than just dreams of space.



The Lotus

In fleeting sighs,
I let go of the trappings
Caught in my soul,

For my days,
Have imprinted on me,
A way to keep them all.

But to let go,
Means to let subside
These passions I foster.

As feelings of peace take over,
Deep in my being,
The lotus slowly unfolds
A million times over.

From this place,
In touch with everything
Between us,

I sense a calm,
Where I taste serendipity
And its sweetness.

At one, I've become,
With the substantial
Joys of hope,

And now, I hold
Onto new ways of life,
As the lotus slowly unfolds
A million times over.



O' the Beautiful Soul Who's Met with Troubles

O' the beautiful soul who's met with troubles,
Woe, come the day when your stars have fallen,
When the darkest of nights, it seems, has come,
Found all alone, when a friend would be welcome;
The very lights that once gave you hope, gone,
As if sunken into the past's darkened well,
And the empty space tries pulling you in!
Recall when love was kind, when life was gentle,
When the cool night air 'came the meeting place,
And wonder touched your heart by the expanse,
Awake, those nights, und'r the wonders that be;
And the joy that came in rivers and streams,
And campfire-light made a ghost of the surroundings,
And life felt warmer by the crackling fire,
And the crickets, aroused, with much to say,
Had filled the woods with friendly conversation,
Such, that would follow you into your tent,
And, trust, nothing but rest would come of it.
If you've days like these, that once brought you peace,
May you, Godspeed, but op'n the memories.



That One Diner I Frequent

She smiles and bats her eyes,
While I hold the door for her and
Return a kind smile.

'You wanna get a table?'
She asks, with a laugh,
Smiles, and bats her eyes.

'No, thanks,' I reply,
'I'm here to meet someone.'
And I can't help but smile.

I take my seat at the bar.
The pretty little waitress
Smiles and bats her eyes.

She pours my coffee real slow,
'Cream or sugar?' she asks.
I can't help but smile.

'That would be grand!' I kindly reply,
But never once have I told her that I like it black.
She smiles and bats her eyes,
And I return a warm smile.



On the Brim of Sweet Fountains

The pebbles kept in my heart,
submerged in fondness of days,
when the river is already cut,
and they lie in glassy currents,
like thoughts of a different time,
when the flow of seasons
has rubbed away the jagged edges,
as epoch after epoch has left me here
sitting on the brim of sweet fountains.



The Sway of Love

Cool summer days are kind in nature,
As nature loves to be kind to her lovers,
While the gentle breeze rustles the grasses,
Pussy willows bob and hover,
And come to life with the wind,
As if joy is found in heeding the call.
They let the love take them in
That one would hardly deny!

Everyone is involved in the making
When love lifts her voice upon the air,
And everything green seems to sway;
The leaves of the trees take to dance,
Giving themselves to what's simply meant to be.
Such days are pleasant to the soul,
And bring with them new beginnings
When days like these are pure ambrosia.

Cool summer days are kind in nature;
Everyone gets involved in the making
As Nature loves to be kind to her lovers.
Love lifts her voice upon the air,
The gentle breeze rustles the grasses,
And everything green seems to sway,
As pussy willows bob and hover,
And the leaves of the trees take to dance,
And come to life with the wind
Giving themselves to what's simply meant to be
As if joy is found in heeding the call.
Such days are pleasant to the soul,
When letting the love take you in,
They bring with them new beginnings
That one could hardly deny
When days like these are pure ambrosia.



May's Flowers

'T is such a picture perfect scene,
To witness the gathering of May's flowers,
As they lie amongst themselves,
And are altogether beautiful in numbers.
Their personalities come out in their sonorous colors,
And the way they quietly sit and chat with us.

They stand there, in the Sun, basking
In the warm light, and yet, I can attest,
That their beauty calls to all wanderers
Who travel by, who lay their eye
Upon their lovely person, as they beckon
To a place inside the beholder.

They are one of nature's many loves,
The little natives are very romantic,
For whenever I stumble by one, per chance,
I have a splendid time saying 'hello,'
Since I can't help but carry a light heart,
When I make May's flowers my friends.

It is but a brief little fling,
As my conversation with them is short lived,
But I would rather bee nowhere else,
For the time spent is precious, and
I'll never forget some of their faces, since
Many of May's flowers have stolen my heart.



Echo of a Time

I am here in this place,
alone with the world.

'I am here!' I say,
But as never before.

'Who are you?' comes the voice,
'Are you one such as me?'

'I don't know,' I mutter,
'Take a good look at me.'



Wtf?

I hear your voice repeating
Inside my head.
It didn't make much sense,
Of which you were speaking,
But I can't stop thinking
About the things you said.

I hear your voice repeating
Inside my head.

I've got myself believing
I know what was meant,
As the words you said
Seem to have new meaning.
I hear your voice repeating
Inside my head.



Mistress Night

Of all the feelings I have culled,
Finding my heart in silent woe,
When events had in some way pulled
The inward eye upon my soul,
I cried my tears, gently falling,
From solemn thoughts of sweet remorse,
I heard the darkness come calling,
Inviting me to intercourse.

Loss of love had drove me deeper,
Into a lasting sense of grief,
When the call of night rang clearer,
And somehow became my release,
I looked not to my heart's demise,
But turned away the inward eye,
And gave myself unto the night,
Where all my pain was left to die.



A Silent Death

What has now taken hold of my young heart?
How I have lain awake, lost to my feelings,
Holding my palm, so near my chest, I pause,
Slowing my breath, as I listen for beating,
I become silent, intent on my pulse,
Watching, still, waiting for signs to appear,
When suddenly, my heart sparks to life,
And blood rushes through my veins like sirens,
The beating drum, the rhythm on my palms,
Feeling my heart come alive, electric,
While each beat rings, sounding of an alarm,
And inside my head, I hear the message,
But remember to take another breath,
And am safe once more from a silent death.



Paradigm

There is a whole other world,
Beyond the realm of individual thought,
Where we feel connected,
Instead of separate entities.

Beyond the realm of individual thought,
We become one in the same,
Instead of separate entities,
For we share mentalities.

We become one in the same,
And as we meld together,
We share mentalities,
And our minds transmute.

And as we meld together,
Where we feel connected,
Our minds translate,
To a whole other world.



The Rogue

I am the fleeting glimpse,
a thief in the night,
the one who comes to steal,
when I'm fighting to survive,
I am the rogue mouse.



The Little Lions

Fierce little creatures,
Who buzz about roaring,
Stalking flowers, yet
Quick to make threat,
But usually just go about their business.



Somewhere Deep Inside

Part of me is silently alive,
It brings forth something vaguely remembered,
Pulls it to the forefront of my mind,
Like a cycling of my running memory.

It brings forth something vaguely remembered,
A look into the distant brought near,
Like a cycling of my running memory,
It keys me in on these things.

A look into the distant brought near,
My mind draws from somewhere deep inside,
It keys me in on these things,
Keeping me up and running.

My mind draws from somewhere deep inside,
Pulls it to the forefront of my mind,
Keeping me up and running.
Part of me is silently alive.



Four Letter Words

Itís true, in many ways
I am the same as everyone else,
Only I use more four letter words than your average bird.

Iíve made it an art form,
Creating new ways to take
Everything I say and pump it full of four letter words.

In the span of a day,
I find myself with too little time
To speak my mind of all the four letter words that come to mind.

Yet I wonít hold back
From what I have to say
For thereís pretty much a four letter word for everything.



Itís Always Darkest

How do words connect with my soul?
Waking calls take me back to the start.
As I relive these memories of old,
Your hands wring the lifeblood from my heart.

I try to let go but find it hard to part.
Somehow we shared the same fate.
How can I patch the hole in my heart,
With this scar staring me in the face?

But what does it really mean?
Didnít you lift my soul from the pit?
Even time and time again?
Yes, it will always be that bridge!

How can I ever be left out in the rain for long,
When you are more than just a sad song?



Lost in Translation (pantoum)

I canít seem to describe myself.
Can I be defined by a turn of phrase?
In a general way, I know who I am;
Will I ever be able to even say?

Can I be defined by a turn of phrase,
When words elude my tongue?
Will I ever be able to even say?
Iím sure Iíll be misconceived by some.

When words elude my tongue,
I wonít let it sway my bravery,
Iím sure Iíll be misconceived by some,
But silence, to me, is agony.

I wonít let it sway my bravery,
When words are better left unsaid.
But, silence, to me, is agony.
Agony is worse than death.

When words are better left unsaid,
Silence is the enemy. But, I insist,
Agony is worse than death,
Yet the problem still persists.

Silence is the enemy, but I insist,
In a general way, I know who I am.
Yet, the problem still persists;
I canít seem to describe myself.



In The Clutches, Only To Slip Away

Eerie, the way my skin crawls, inside my heart pounds,
I feel a presence lurking somewhere close at hand,
A gust of wind blows open the door, and I know
That an open door lets the ghost in.

The lights flicker, shadows leap on the walls,
I see my own breath, as the room grows cold,
The aparition appears and penetrates my simple mind.

It looms over me, takes me by the hand, and leads me to the door.
I look through the open portal, into the unknown,
My eyes open wide as I see a glimpse of eternity.
But the angel of death has only warned me that,
I shouldn't take this life for granted any longer.

Unable to drag me through the threshold,
Death says his farewell, and closes the door.



To Escape Fate?

Trapped in a wooden frame,
My heart, a stained chunk of oak,
Longs to be substantial.

I wish to be nothing more
Than what I really am,
But still I must wear this mask.

The lie, nobody can tell,
Though written on my face,
That it gives me shame.

Why must I lock the very door
That lets others in
To the world in which I live?

I confide in others,
But they seem to be
Just as lost as me.

These false friends I call dreams,
Bring a ray of hope,
And yet I know they deceive.

Will I ever be more than just fancy?



The Storm

As the sky rolls on,
today's weather changes,
Mother Earth says 'hello'
the wind blows, hot and wet

today's weather changes,
the sky grows more and more disturbed,
the wind blows, hot and wet,
and the air takes on more moisture

the sky grows more and more disturbed,
the clouds churn in fury,
and the air takes on more moisture,
bringing thunders to heel

the clouds churn in fury,
with room-shaking flashes,
bringing thunders under heel,
giving one an uneasy feeling

with room-shaking flashes,
each crash makes the heart skip beat,
giving one an uneasy feeling,
which lasts for a moment

each crash makes the heart skip beat,
Mother Earth says 'hello'
which lasts for a moment,
as the sky rolls on.



Ode to the Tear

O' the tears, sorrow has but loosed, to fall,
From eyes that burn, with fury of their passing,
While upon cheeks they soak, with each and all,
That wet my face, while slowly gathering,
To but be wiped, and cleared, by shaky hands,
When their presence becomes too much for asking,
And grate upon tender eyelids like sand.

Someplace inside has been awoken yet,
And the still beating heart senses such hurt,
Touched by the feelings one cannot forget,
Brought on by thoughts that beckon of their worth,
While they reopen wounds of past indwelling,
Bringing the pains to surface, and with force,
As they resonate with the present calling.

The tears, while being shed, fall from inside,
They pour from pain that, to us, feels so close,
Still nothing stops my heart where it yet lies,
But to choose not to follow where it goes,
And let the storm pass over in due season,
To wait it out, Ďtil we no longer hold,
Onto the heartache which we held for reasons.



Ode to the Night Skies

Cloudless skies unburden me,
My heart, closing the distance,
Lost in now and forever,
The deep black comes near,
As past and present bed together,
While Earth stands silent under my feet.

The night skies open before me,
In awe, as my eyes ponder,
A split second suspended,
My person held in suspense,
As it wraps around the heavens,
And my thoughts bend towards the stars.

Senses settle on something peaceful,
My vision leads, my being follows,
The gentle realm beyond hearkening,
I visit and it becomes part of me,
While it settles in my soul, and breathes,
And my body aligns with slumber.



Spring

Enter spring and the Grand Awakening
When Mother Earth gives birth t' Nature Divine!
Days grow longer and warmer. Snow and ice
Melt away, filling the rivers and streams.
New buds begin to sprout upon the trees
As life for the first time opens its eyes,
And the air is filled with fragrances kind
Encouraging fauna t' wake from their sleep.
In springing forth, not a moment is wasted
When winter has passed and left the weary,
Now, to renew their strength in light of spring.
The days anew bring about celebration.
Songs o' joy break the silence upon the air
As birds begin their play and pageantry.

As birds begin their play and pageantry,
The woodlands take on a life of their own.
To those who live among them, birdsong becomes
One of the comforts of home; welcoming,
And inviting as the first-light of morning.
Whitetail deer emerge from the brush, to roam
And graze amongst the fields and meadows,
While the hares begin their stamping and kicking,
As the season is young, fit for their mischief.
But with spring comes plenty of time to grow,
And not only for the wildlife t' mature,
Since days have chances for showers aplenty,
And the green-life soak it up by the roots;
So often the wettest days of the year.

So often the wettest days of the year
Are well received by Nature's open arms.
Thirsting plants take advantage of the storms
That endow the earth with the means to rear
Healthy and vibrant vegetation, where
Thick leaves are a meal for caterpillars,
And hummingbirds feed upon the nectar
Of the flowers that keep quick-hearts beating.
It's clear such display, of nature as art,
Is hand-painted as by the Maker's love!
The days of spring may leave a soul enamored
When the all-but-silent nights are
Filled with the sounds of the crickets' lovely hum,
Once warmer days signal summer is near.



When We First Met

In the early moments
When I first met you
My heart opened,
In the early moments
I know I saw something,
For I found love to be true
In the early moments
When I first met you.



Eulogy: All That Remains

"Here lies one whose name was writ in water."

A man once was and now is not,
For death has claimed his beating heart,
With faded eyes, no light he sees,
The air, his lungs, no longer breathe,
Darkened is the brain, without thought.

Beneath the cemetery plot,
A man, whose body rests to rot;
'Now, cold I lie,' his gravestone reads,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'A man once was.'

No long'r to walk the ground above,
Known for nothing but what is not;
The gravestone lies covered in leaves,
All that remains of his memory;
Though here he lies, the man is gone.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 'A man once was.'



wets my brain

hear the growl
of the clouds greying
let drop the rain,
as the droplets speed down

in journey
to the world below,
velocity
gives them voice against Earth,

all aloud,
they land as a mob,
together all;
amplifying their sound,

their mad song,
plays on my eardrums,
patters 'n' echoes,
and my brain gets aroused.



And Those Who Watched

And when a nice young lad came near his side,
Samson reached out his hand t' the lad, and said,
'My lad, guide my hand to the pillar for me,'
And he was kindly guided to, then, lean
Upon the central pillars of the temple,
Then took a moment, mustered up his strength,
And pushed with all his might against the columns,
As on looked the surrounding spectators,
And, soon, the whole temple began to shake,
The columns bearing a tremendous weight,
And the stones began falling upon all
Those unfortunate, who'd been looking on
As th' temple came down upon their heads,
And they all met the same untimely death.



Longing For A Warmer Winter

As leaves descend,
The subtle chill grows,
Rain's soft trickle,
Will soon turn to snow.

Life will change,
Especially on the inside,
Dying days leave us
Longing to be revived.

Shorter days mean longer nights,
Sleep is a quick way through it,
Yet I stay awake,
Longing to get through it.

We sit in warm houses,
Yet we're colder than ever,
Locked in a prison,
This isn't our sort of weather.

The days are stunted,
The weather becoming chill,
Will I warm to the season?
I sure hope I will.



The Man Who Hides

The battle I fight is with my own mind,
The strongest foe I've ever fought,
For he infiltrates my every thought,
And brings down my strongest walls.

His game is espionage,
his reasons unclear,
He slips in under cloak of night,
And leaves me stricken in fear.

He knows my weaknesses
Better than anyone,
He strikes fast, he's relentless,
And he exploits my lack of knowledge.

The war is waged on home soil,
My mind under constant attack,
How can I stand against,
The man that hides within?



Obsession

My mind can't help but talk too much,
It drives me mad at times,
How can I have some peace of mind
When I'm at war inside?

Each day a different battle fought,
A never ending siege,
The enemy gets past the gates
And I must turn and flee!



Pennies In the Wishing Well

What am I to do,
But make a wish so swell?
My hopes with you are few,
And, what, I will never tell.

All the things I do for you
Are pennies in the wishing well.

My hopes with you are few,
And, what, I will never tell.
So, I toss a coin or two,
But maybe luck will tell.

All the things I do for you
Are pennies in the wishing well.

So, I toss a coin or two,
But maybe luck will tell,
And if the old saying holds true,
I'll make a wish right now.

All the things I do for you
Are pennies in the wishing well.



When a Star Dies

As a star nears the end of its life
It emits its dying last light
As it spends what's left of its fuel.
Caught in its death-throws,
The core burns hotter and brighter
As it begins folding in upon itself,
Shrinking in size, growing in density,
And continues super-heating
Until, at last, it completely collapses.

As the star nears the end of its life,
And it spends what's left of its fuel,
The core burns hotter and brighter,
Shrinking in size, growing in density,
Until, at last, it completely collapses.

As the star nears the end of its life,
The core burns hotter and brighter,
Until, at last, it completely collapses.

The core burns hotter and brighter...

In the breadth of but a single second,
The core burns hottest and brightest,
And releases itself in a massive explosion!

In the breadth of but a single second,
With its fuel finally spent,
The core burns hottest and brightest,
The star gives one final heave
And releases itself in a massive explosion!

In the breadth of but a single second,
The star, no longer able to sustain itself,
With its fuel finally spent,
Rapidly collapses upon itself,
The core burning hottest and brightest,
And, in a stunning display,
The star gives one final heave,
As it leaves the heavens,
And releases itself in a massive explosion!



The Raven to Take You Home

O' some are blessed with length of days,
And many, though, never grow old,
Whether at peace, or deathly afraid,
Still, the raven must take you home.

Raven:
"With the feathers black as night
I guide you to the afterlife."

Dark as death is, 'tis part of life,
Tho' another day's your only hope,
But when it is your time to die,
Still, the raven must take you home.

Raven:
"With the feathers black as night
I guide you to the afterlife."

As life must always yield to death,
Though we grieve, every man must go,
And, as you take your final breath,
The raven's there to take you home.

Raven:
"With the feathers black as night
I guide you to the afterlife."



Why Bother?

To call myself another one of you,
My mind rages against such thought!
Why must I take your word for mine own?

My mind rages against such thought!
Why must I take your word for mine own,
And call myself another one of you?

Why must I take your word for mine own,
And call myself another one of you?
My mind rages against such thought!

To call myself another one of you;
Why must I take your word for mine own?
My mind rages against such thought!

My mind rages against such thought,
To call myself another one of you!
Why must I take your word for mine own?

Why must I take your word for mine own?
My mind rages against such thought
To call myself another one of you!



The Blame Game

Everyone seems to point the finger,
When we should mind our own business!
To each his own, or am I wrong?

We should mind our own business!
To each his own, or am I wrong?
Everyone seems to point the finger!

To each his own, or am I wrong?
Everyone seems to point the finger,
When we should mind our own business!

Everyone seems to point the finger!
To each his own, or am I wrong?
Maybe we should mind our own business.

When we should mind our own business,
Everyone seems to point the finger!
To each his own, or am I wrong?

To each his own, or am I wrong?
When we should mind our own business,
Everyone seems to point the finger!


Make Your Stand

Shouldn't we all get a voice?
When freedom is on the line,
I am with you in this fight.

When freedom is on the line,
I am with you in this fight.
Shouldn't we all get a voice?

I am with you in this fight.
Shouldn't we all get a voice,
When freedom is on the line?

Shouldn't we all get a voice?
I am with you in this fight,
When freedom is on the line.

When freedom is on the line,
Shouldn't we all get a voice?
I am with you in this fight.

I am with you in this fight,
When freedom is on the line.
Shouldn't we all get a voice?



My TV Takes Me Away in a Way

TV may be a way to be.
It's now, yet somehow without space,
But it's a crazy little light show
That plays upon a small stage!

It's now, yet somehow without space,
But when you no longer weigh reality,
Eyes play upon the small stage,
And you get lost in the moment.

When you no longer weigh reality,
It's a crazy little light show,
And you get lost in the moment!
TV may be a way to be.



It Was the Coldest of Nights

It was the coldest of nights,
A lamp shown in the window.
A man by the light warmed
His hands as they trembled.

Silently, he sat in his room,
He looked to the book by his side,
The lamplight pulsed real low,
It was the coldest of nights.

The Bible laying by his side,
The words distant but reliable,
The comfort that, on such a night,
A lamp shown from the table.

It was the coldest of nights,
But the cold could not part
The joy from his soul that night,
The man, by the light, warmed.

He felt a fire in his heart,
Burning in God's presence,
And it was then that he noticed,
His hands as they trembled.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . It was the coldest.



Existential Dynamite

Somehow, I have found truth in no-truth,
Brought about by thoughts that seem to implode
Upon themselves, as if a bomb went off
In my head, and took out the main supports,
Causing me to question all of my thoughts
Laid upon the foundation of what I know
To be true, for my mindís given such
Reason to question everything it holds!
Is reality but an elaborate hoax?



The Labyrinth

O' how a dream can seem so real!
Even though it makes sense not,
We can only fathom
What takes place in the night!

Even though it makes sense not,
We find ourselves believing
What takes place in the night,
As the dream world turns tangible!

We find ourselves believing
The grand ethereal immersion,
As the dream world turns tangible,
And reality becomes blurry.

The grand ethereal immersion
Drops us into its labyrinth,
Reality becomes blurry,
And we get lost in its depths.

It drops us into its labyrinth
Full of illusion and meandering paths,
And we get lost in its depths
Awaiting the coming catalyst.

ĎT is full of illusion and meandering paths,
And we find ourselves held in suspense
Awaiting the coming catalyst
As we continue our quest.

We find ourselves held in suspense,
When the dream suddenly ends,
And we come to question
What had really just happened!

When the dream suddenly ends,
We can only fathom
What had really just happened!
O' how a dream can seem so real!



The Great Struggle

O', how anger holds many a man captive,
And leeches his ability to reason,
Mind overcome by the things he imagines,
And driven to act, upon his strong feelings,
When all that's sought, is some kind of release,
A quick escape from the turmoil inside,
His mind, at war, locked in conflict, exceeds
The ability to keep the throngs at bay!
So often does one give up and give in,
Continuing not, to fight the good fight,
And acts upon the fear, retreat has given,
No longer able to hold the front lines,
But life has its battles, and we can win!
Common to man, is the struggle within!



The Stars that Fall By My Hand

I look t' the heavens and the stars around
That seem as if near, though on Earth I stand,
Imagining I could reach out my hand,
Gather them all, and throw them to the ground,
As if I were a sleeping giant now
Awakened, who's fury's set upon man,
And the fiery rain of stars, my wrath,
And in the aftermath, no-one be found!

But, I need not harbor for long these dark
Imaginings, though I'm prone t' flights of fancy,
For they are just that, but imaginings,
Yet I would love to be the one who starts
The beginning of the end of misery,
And brings about the coming of the King!



Echoes

This voice I hear, calling clearly,
Reverberates inside my head!
A voice beckoning, 'listen in!'
I pay attention, still fearful,
And can't believe what I'm hearing,
It tells me, 'I've just cheated death!'

This voice I hear, calling clearly,
Reverberates inside my head!
A voice beckoning, 'now, hear me!'
It tells me 'one day I'll be dead!'
But I know I've life yet to live,
And that I've no need to fear it.

This voice I hear, calling clearly,
Reverberates inside my head!



The Travelling Soul

Another day comes and goes,
And I'm here holding onto nothing.
In this journey of the travelling soul,
I don't know what it is that keeps me going,
Yet, my self is but the one thing
I take with me down this road.
Another day comes and goes,
And I'm here holding onto nothing.

Another day comes and goes,
And I'm here holding onto nothing.
My life, it seems, has been put on hold,
But there's got to be something
That can stop me from becoming,
Forever, a wanderer without a home.
Another day comes and goes,
And I'm here holding onto nothing.

Another day comes and goes,
And I'm here holding onto nothing.
Yet, I don't know, truth be told,
If I can continue on going
Down this path that leads nowhere,
When all I need is to find another road.
Another day comes and goes,
And I'm here holding onto nothing.



Along the Way

Walking this path I've chosen,
My hope is that I know
These footsteps bring me closer.

Though the only map I know of,
The road I will follow,
Walking this path I've chosen.

As the way unfolds before me,
Although the journey's long,
These footsteps bring me closer.

With steady pace unbroken,
My strength I hold close,
Walking this path I've chosen.

And as my way begins to open,
I continue, on, down the road;
These footsteps bring me closer.

And this hope keeps me going
As I'm ever-pressing onward,
Walking this path I've chosen,
For these footsteps bring me closer.



As I have been with You

As I have been with you,
When you kindly listened,
I remind you, friends,
It has opened doors in my heart.

When you kindly listened,
And you held me in regard,
It opened doors in my heart
Of the ways joy can be found.

And, you held me in regard,
As you listened to me talk
Of the ways joy can be found,
Still, it was a pleasure to be with you.

When you listened to me talk
Concerning the light of my life,
I say, it was a pleasure to be with you
For I took in the words of life too.

Concerning the light of my life,
I see it in your eyes as well,
For you took in the words of life too,
As we met and talked of love.

I see it in your eyes as well,
I remind you, friends,
You took in the words of life too,
For love has been with you.



Love Lost

Here I am, knocking at your door,
Even though you've turned me away before,
Still I try, giving you a chance to answer,
I am here now and forever after.

Day after day, I look for a reason,
Of why I couldn't be what you believe in,
My heart longs to hear you say,
That you'd let me in this very day.

Still, You answer me not, caring little if I go,
Jaded, fated to be lost in a world that's so cold,
Holding back, you may have given up on love,
But that love's an illusion compared to what comes from above.

One thing's for sure, I will never give up,
Hoping to hasten the day you'd open up,
But if it is your will to leave the door closed,
I will still be here forevermore.



Choosing

I see the news,
I hope to be more secure,
But still I must carry this thought.

This truth, of which
My mind speaks,
Gives me this one time perspective.

It has returned
And is now calling
From out in the streets.

I open my mind
That lets this in
The world to which I live.



Itís All in My Head

My mind has been a place or two,
Sometimes the world is but a thought,
Where I am now, somehow I know not,
Though at times I may try to tell you.

The sights are many, yet seem few,
Like the passing hours on a clock.
The ways in which life has stopped
Point to reasons why this is true.

But these missing hours were stolen!
By my own vulgar mind at that!
Always taking me out of the moment,
And never wanting to give it back.

So, now I know why things can seem so hectic,
And now itís time to enjoy this life I neglected.



Just Before the Dawn

I hear a knock at the door of my heart,
A subtle sound, by a delicate hand,
It woke me from a deep slumber,
And now beseeches me to answer.
I know not who, but Iím up for company,
So, I rise from bed to see the sun hasnít just yet.

The hour tells me that this isnít for pleasure, but yet,
The knock doesnít mirror the urgency of my heart.
Whoever it is, they shall find themselves in good company.
I hurry down the hall with a candle in hand,
The flame flickers as Iím rushing to answer,
Iím afraid theyíll turn and leave believing Iím still deep in slumber.

But Iím in no such state of slumber,
Far from it! This beating in my chest hasnít slowed down yet,
Unlike the person who is waiting for an answer,
But patience is something nearly unknown to my heart
No matter the situation at hand,
And even more so it leaps now at the thought of company!

ĎCompany, company!í it's beating, repeats, ĎCompany!í
All the more excited from being jarred from slumber,
But the candle seems to want to sleep, so I shield the flame with my hand,
As I quicken to the door in hopes they havenít left yet.
How many millions of beats, it seems, resonate from my heart
In the truly brief seconds between waking and this sought after answer.

Still, it is looking for so much more than just an answer,
And so much more than just company,
For I know the motives behind my excited heart,
Even when it somehow seems to slumber,
Itís looking for something it hasnít found yet,
Something out of reach, but close at hand.

By the sound of the knock, the gentleness of the hand,
By the persistent patience, in the waiting for an answer,
Shows me that they havenít lost hope yet,
Hope that on the other side is one of good company,
And though they donít know if Iíve awakened from my slumber,
Itís that hope that keeps them from losing heart.

With knob in hand, and hopes of good company,
And willing to answer since woken from slumber,
Though I donít know who it is yet, I open the door to my heart.



The World Next to Me

Sometimes, when Iím lying in bed,
I visit a world perfect and serene

I donít know if itís the sheer beauty
That draws me into its depths,
The way the friendly light beckons me
To let it in through the doors of my eyes,
The vibrant colors that lift me up,
Or the deep tones I seem to sink in to

Or if itís the nuance of movement
That keeps me enthralled,
As my gaze tosses about the sea,
And holds my eyes intent
On the world inside that lives

The frenetic bouncing bubbles,
Each with its own jovial personality,
The busy surface, and gentle currents, of the water
That bends and directs the light,
And the two little lives who swim about,
That by their demeanor, I can tell
This place is nothing short of paradise

Perhaps itís the peace Iíve found
In witnessing such divine harmony;
From the busy bubbles and frolicking fish
That keep this world from stagnating,
To the stones with such a surreal calm
That I turn to them for wisdom and understanding

And as I lay, watching this little world turn,
I see why God chose to put me right where Iím at



Hourglass Head

Like an hourglass
Measuring the moment in sand,
So too does life go through
The eye of my mind

As little amounts of sand
Falls through the center,
So too do I observe the world;
Five senses vie for my attention

Thus, experience is limited
To the minute, the infinitesimal,
But in a world of possibilities,
Itís vastly expandable

And as life flows through
The eye of my mind,
I just have to choose
What best suits my time



Speak for Yourself (The Conundrum of Philosophy)

I find myself living in a world
Of mixed messages and disarray.
Is it that our unkempt minds,
In an attempt to find stability,
Have made a mess of meaning?

Perhaps, in some disorderly fashion
We've taken a backseat to a madman
That steers us in the wrong direction,
Who, on his own, has no sense of bearing,
Yet says 'Life is what 'we' make it!'

Maybe words are not appropriate vessels,
For each mind has it's own way of thinking,
And no matter how hard we try, sometimes,
We won't be able to even point in the right direction,
Let alone show another what we believe in.

So, we may ask ourselves a very basic question,
'Will I ever be able to find the meaning of life?'
Even though many people swear they know
The answer to such a profound question,
I still believe such meaning is found at the source....

And that answer is only found
When you let life speak for itself.



The Silent Sound of Dreams

With a silent sound
Dreams travel my mind,
Locked away in meanings
That never really come around.

The vastness of space
Held with a distant vision,
Unlocked in a prism
That once held me transfixed.

Many sided fates
Point their crooked fingers,
Still, I look from within the mirror
At a statue of my visage.

Nothing, I say, nothing,
Can bring me to admit
What it is I keep glimpsing
Hidden in my life-full eyes.

A ghost in the heavens,
Speaks of a lost utopia,
Of which my mind
Cannot even grip.

Though, I try to grasp
Meaning in a distant land,
My only memory of love
Drowns everything else out.

How is it I find myself
Put together in a glass bottle,
Like a ship that hasn't sailed
To the horizons of its dreams?

Nothing brings me a tear,
When things so near to hope,
Are a wellspring swelling in my heart
Like an ocean lulled by the moon.

Yet, sleepily I dream,
And that dream builds itself
Out of the many movements
Of a soul fixed upon its being.

The place in which I find myself,
Is one of an endless existence.



What Nonsense It Is ĎKeeping Awakeí

As I probe the depths of some long awaited memory,
I sense something wanting in from the outside,
Though, I know I cannot help but entwine,
My screen-tied eyes imply their opacity.

I sense something wanting in from the outside,
Its narcoleptic pull encouraging me to nod,
My screen-tied eyes imply their opacity
With the slowly draining thoughts of (something?)

A narcoleptic pull tries forcing me to nod,
Holding my eyes open, my mind boggy
With the slowly draining thoughts of (nothing?),
The world blackens from a constant gaze.

Holding my eyes open, my mind boggy,
I drift off into some sort of respite.
The world blackening from a constant gaze,
My inner world becomes but a souvenir.

I drift off into some sort of respite,
And I know I cannot help but entwine.
My inner world becomes but a souvenir
As I probe the depths of some long-awaited memory.



Enlightenment

Unobserved,
The mind is dark.
Its dealings,
Flawlessly primal.

It does what it does,
And rarely doesnít.

Observed,
The mind is wise.
It is and will be,
Unmistakably clear.

It does what it does,
And often doesnít.

Consciousness is a light,
Simply living in it is enlightenment.



Returning to Where It All Began

How I wish to return to the age of innocence,
Becoming a man, I wandered too far from my youth,
Somewhere in time, my sense of wonder faded,
And now, I must return to the inception of 'life as I know it'

Becoming a man, I wandered too far from my youth,
My days have taken on the weight of having a 'life'
And now, I must return to the inception of 'life as I know it'
Before I lose touch with the vital side of 'me'

My days have taken on the weight of having a 'life'
Yet, this siren song is calling me to wake
Before I lose touch with the vital side of 'me'
And find myself milling amongst the living dead.

Still, this siren song is calling me to wake up!
Eyes slowly opening, I'm reaching an awareness,
And find myself milling amongst the living dead,
It seems my eyes and ears have become useless!

Eyes slowly opening, I'm reaching an awareness,
Somewhere in time, my sense of wonder faded,
And it seems my eyes and ears have become useless.
O' how I must return to the age of innocence!



Love in My Cup

When love is near, I hold sweet feelings safe,
Like nectar filling up a flower's cup,
Sparkling sweet in the Sun's warm embrace,
Swaying in tides of summer days anew,
Spirit of the day, wakened by the breeze,
Nature's child, warm Earth, brought up in her arms,
Love, kept in my vase, is treasure for thee,
For by chance that a bee, who takes some home,
And steals my heart away, oh so fleeting,
It's a kind thought that love would carry on,
And have some chance at a romantic meeting,
With another lover, as the bee roams,
And finds itself another honey-cup,
Like me, who's full to the brim with such love.



The Riddle Box

The box I've lived in
For most of my life,
Has now been opened
And I see outside.

Was it death that showed me?
Of course it was!

For when I think of death,
The box opens up.

For death has showed me
That there's life outside.
How am I to live
Still pent up inside?

Was it death that showed me?
Of course it was!

For when I think of death,
The box opens up.



The Ocean

Sometimes, I drift off
in the varied colors of my world,
in which I find meaning
that transcends my very thoughts.

In the varied colors of my world,
I explore many far-fetched notions
that transcend my very thoughts,
like a boat afloat on the ocean.

I explore many far-fetched notions,
for a moment I'm lost in fancy,
like a boat adrift in the ocean,
searching for more than reality.

For a moment, I'm lost in fancy,
in which I find meaning,
searching for more than reality.
Sometimes, I drift off...
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