Oh brother,
Don't forget i'm in your heart,
And when the time is right,
I will take over your soul;

Oh mother,
There is an electric within my heart,
I have done all to fight,
They want to have my soul;

Oh father,
See how my flesh is torn apart,
And when it becomes night
My heart they fill with coal;

Oh sister,
Pray for my stolen heart,
Although i try to do things right,
I have lost my self-control;

Oh sceva,
Tell your sons to all depart,
they should not try to win this fight,
Because i will rip them whole.

Throughout this soundtrack that I call my life,
       your heart is the beat,
          your voice is the lyrics,
   your soul is the slow and steady rhythm,
             your kisses are the chorus
       and your face is the album art.
Without you,
  I would never hear music the same again.

Give me a cold , crisp cranberry juice with -
a Gulf of Mexico evening view
Mary Ellen's hand in mine
A moment to treasure for all time* ...

Don't be afraid to rip a chapter from your book. Not all memories are worth remembering.

His mother was suicidal
His father was patricidal
His siblings all fratricidal
They fractured his parietal.
His acumen was impractical
While his mien was didactical
His morals were retractible
And his religion was heretical.

He longed to be a celebrity
And wished for its celerity
To skip the serendipity
And fork over his luminosity.
But it seems that synchronicity
Paired up with idiosyncrasy
In a natural form of complicity
And waylaid him with complicity.

He moaned that he was qualified
And not the least bit mollified
To be so soundly criticized
That they could not recognize
By those who were so glassy eyed
A plenipotentiary, very wise
Who appears before their very eyes
Who they would gladly plagiarize
Even while they ostracize.

He can’t achieve equanimity
When so many hold their enmity
And treat him so outrageously
In ignoring his magnanimity.
After all, is there anyone living
Who is so astoundingly forgiving
Than he by the simple act of giving
And letting them go on living?

Who could have known
Or ever proposed
That Kansas farm girl
Would land back in Oz

Who could have guessed
All this no less
From that moment on
Would be such a mess

All because Dorthy
Went High Royalty
Ever since those ruby reds
She's had a need for the bling

Now she likes to buy
Everything in her sight
With Munchkins for servants
Who serve her outright

Then came the day
She ran out of dough
And the Lollipop Guild
Mentioned the road

Where few have been told
And even less know
That the Yellow Brick Road
Is really made out of gold

That's the happiest she's been
Since she arrived
As the shimmer and glimmer
Cha-Chinged in her eyes

She called her three friends
Clueing  them in
The Lion, the Scarecrow
And of course the Tin Man

As a matter of fact
Tin Man bring your ax
I have just the job
For you to get down with that

That's now where we are
I am sad to report
The Yellow Brick Road
Is now nothing but dirt

But sweet Dorthy dear
Has plenty of stuff
Though she still has her eyes
On the emeralds of Oz

Their verses are like
Exotic bird songs in a
Jungle of humans

Some call their words crass
But the way I see it, they
Are flamboyant calls

Just as the blue jay
Has mating and defense calls
So do us humans