If you could choose a superpower,
With what virtues would you be showered?
I would like to be balm to folk,
Lighten disputes with silly jokes,
No need for dumb arguments any day,
Smiling is permitted, let's say,
If I could choose a superpower,
Peace on Earth I would shower.......
The bird sings into the silent night
And puts all the frogs to shame.
The crickets lower their violins
To be able to hear the echo of names.
The names of all the beautiful things
That makes up this little world.
The names of every flower,
And little girl.
The bird resonates into the silent night
A solo opera for open ears,
It bleeds its soul into the darkened sky
Only audible for a few to hear.
The creatures wait on baited breath
To listen to its song.
To hear the melancholy tune
Stretch out all night long.
The bird coons in its little tree
With eyes only half closed,
It sings a sweet soft melody
To nature down below.
It sings of tomorrow’s promises,
Of all the laughter and the joy,
The bird sings us a lullaby
To help our dreams come alive.
ALC March 17, 2016
As I sit here above the sky
And look upon the clouds
I stretch my mind far and wide
As much as it allows
The further I set out about
The sea above the land
It covers and clears, and covers and clears
And without a doubt expands
The tiny lights and tiny fields
It's as if I am a God
With one quick wipe I clean the land
Or upon a town I trod
Yet I can't help feeling like a lonely bird
Upon my wings today
However, it's quiet nice to feel alone
It has its own strange way
I seem to appreciate the smaller things
Like orange rising up from grey
Dream, little bird/ flap your wings/ feel the world/ don't look back/ I'm feeling rough/ dream your world/ 'till you fall/ keep on dreaming/ until you fall/ you're a bird/ born to fly/ keep on flying/ destined to die/ live your purpose/ dream my peace/ keep on dreaming/ beats will cease/ hearts born weak/ no harm dreaming/ a beautiful world/ my dream little bird
I can't help but envy the birds with small wings,
As they're flapping and fluttering up towards the sky.
Sure, they got problems: make a nest, don't get killed, find a mate.
But I think I could handle those, much better than my own life.
My cat killed a bird yesterday, with small little wings.
She brought it right up to my doorstep, barely breathing
As it chirped endlessly for mercy.
I watched as that little bird's eyes were punctured,
its white and grey breast feathers stained the prettiest pink.
Sitting there, on the other side of that see through door,
I wished I could've been a bird with small wings.
Had I been born a bird and as sad as I am now,
All I would have to do is sit in the middle of a yard,
And wait to be plucked away as one's lunch.
No one would miss me, nor care that I disappeared.
Heck, no one would even know I was gone.
I could be free of everything without being seen as selfish.
But I was not born a bird with small wings.
Too bad for that, being a bird would've been cool.
Oh what song
The love bird sings
Who woos the bird
Under its wings
Showing his colors
Gets the right answer
The look in her eyes
Loving and tender
His crown unweathered
And beautifully feathered
A stem in his beak
The future is not bleak
Become one together,
I am broken.
my heart rattles around in my chest
like it's lost its sense of stillness.
I hold my breath
and count to ten, trying to calm my deafening mind.
The world tumbles,
turquoise, crimson and black;
a kaleidoscope of colours trickling around me.
The concept of love and sex terrifies me beyond belief,
and because I'm not clutching somebody else's hand,
you think I am not normal.
But the horrors of my childhood, the memories that invade my already crippled mind
would confuse you too, would cause you to run away from a humans touch.
So I am fine,
I am fine,
I am fine.
I will rise from the ashes like a broken bird whose lost its wings,
and continue to strive to fill the emptiness with the words of my heart.
i dont know how to start this so i'll just start by saying hello
even when i mean goodbye
i wanna get out of here because im tired
but im tired probably means im scared
but i'll just suck it up and get this over with
ask me if im okay and i'll say im wonderful
but maybe i mean i cant do it anymore
you see, everybody sees things with their own perspective
like i'll say trees are okay but i mean they're beautiful
by beautiful maybe i mean you
when i say you, i mean i adore you
and if i adore you i mean, ill always think of you
i wouldnt say i dont care
its just that i have a lot of pride that i cant swallow
when i say i cant swallow i mean
ive learned how to swallow starlight and
i hope you know that the ache it brings is like a cinnamon heartburn
i hate people with pride issues
they make my tongue burn and swell
but i mean my kiss taste like a shotgun to the lips
it'll make you feel brave.
it'll make you feel brave, but i mean it'll make me weak.
sometimes we all feel like we're imprisoned
somewhere we dont want to be
but let me tell you this, you're like a bird
you're free, you got the whole world
because baby, there's no such thing as cage.
let me end this with a thank you,
but maybe my thank you means hello.
That stoic, elderly house
that sits beneath the sun
has it’s door hinged open
just waiting for someone
All day in the Virginian countryside
the waves of wind pass by
Yet the door remains open
‘till the sky begins to cry
A table set for two
venetian blinds on the floor
A stool, a record, a painting
All watching through that door
The night falls for the day
and the house falls for sleep
and through the unhinged door
A small songbird must creep
The sun forgets to wake the house
But the songbird pays her fee
To room with the house that night
and sings from the walnut tree
The house door swings shut
afraid to listen and hear
For the house is afraid
Of the musical musketeer
Careful to know each other
But their minds begin to roam
All while, the songbird brings him music
and the house brings her home
Slate stepping stones on the green, gravel walkway
fall away from the city outside
and deep into the forgotten hours of today