Light in the Dark
This world is finite yet unceasing.
it keeps on spinning yet the
people do not. One day,
every person on this earth
breathing now will stop.

From the young to the old,
from the sick to the vibrant,
from the rich to the poor,
the End is the great equalizer.

The fear of death is something real,
the death of the self is a fright.
But the death of us all is a terror.
To think that it awaits every person
is a crisis that strikes the human heart.

To not exist in this plane
to not breathe a single breath,
to know it all will just stop one day,
is the horror of existential horrors.

Much like the pain of grief,
everyone deals differently,
but that's not what this is about.
This is a poem about you,
and one about me.

You are the light in the dark,
the truth in the lies,
and when I want to rip this
world in two and start anew,
I simply take a look at you and see.

Now, I don't know the truth,
and I don't have the answers,
but I can say that being with you
is like living forever.

Take your ships and your sailors,
to that island of the sky,
take them all to Avalon,
where the dreamers fly.

The gentle winds breeze,
the voice of a longing lover,
the want of a passing mother.
Take them all to Avalon.

The soul knows not hunger
when stopped in Avalon.
All the treats of the finer,
are common in Avalon.

When others see only sadness,
do not fall for their madness.
The light pours through the trees,
and the people know only glee.

A pristine paradise,
so tranquil and free of vice,
a home for heart and humor.
Bring all your friends to Avalon.

The grass grows glossy green,
the sky shines a cerulean sheen,
the stars sparkle in bright delight,
Avalon welcomes you tonight.

Our appeal is more than real,
so think well in passing for
when you come to Avalon,
you'll never care to leave.

Dear, I fear the end is near,
and I can't seem to recall.
Can you remind me how
we came to be, and
what will come when we
are done?

Dear, I fear I lost my name,
somewhere along the way.
and in my pocket, lies a
picture of a woman I don't know.
Of a scene from a play
that feels so far away.

Dear, I fear the world is fading,
from my memory, but I still
hear the sound of laughter
floating through the trees,
like a whisper to the wind.

Dear, I fear I'm not myself,
and to that, I'm sorry to have
let you down. I know that
I loved you once, when
I knew who you were.

An ant becomes king,
subjects hide their heads in shame,
while the world watch on

I breathe artistic
the air acts as my paintbrush,
my lungs, the canvas.

Before this story, to you, I tell.
I would ask that you listen well.
Mine is a tale that can surely stand,
from very beginning to very end.

My lover was pure, saintly, and true,
almost as if she could be seen through.
Dressed in holy whites, she glided,
and my wayward heart, she guided.

I had little to my status or name,
little of fame to entice her aim.
Yet, still she slithered by my side,
till no longer could it be denied.

I was hers and hers alone to take,
and so I went along for her sake.
Such a fate did not bother me,
for her love made us become we.

Before her, I felt like a scuttling ant,
something small, weak, and scant.
Through her, my heart made worn,
became something else: loveborn.

And so it went from day to night,
a union of souls beaming sweet light.
We lived, we laughed, we loved.
Our ardor was blessed from the sky above.

I, speaking for myself, was fit with glee,
and my mirth could fill the deepest sea.
But, in her, I began to notice doubt,
as if something in her was in a drought.

Her cheeks did not span like before,
her eyes did not gleam like the shore.
Her essence did not shine the sky,
her heart did not beam on high.

I then began to wonder and doubt,
what had caused her this bout.
Was I to blame for her behavior,
had I created my fallen savior?

I knew that I was weak: pathetic,
something to be mocked: genetic.
Was our love doomed: prophetic?
I thought and I thought: splenetic.

If I was so miserable after all,
I would give her cause to squall.
Let us cease the senseless play,
and close the curtain on today.

I met her gaze in our room,
the scene was set for her doom.
I smiled. Then the deed was done.
She was from this world gone.

And in that moment, I stopped.
Looking at her, my head dropped.
In that moment, I had to kneel,
noting she had never been more real.

I want you, and yet you turn away,
like night's embrace, and the passing of day.
When all I want is for you to stay.

Can't we be like this forever,
you and I, in hand together?
When we part, I am severed.

Is it true what they say
that love passes one by
like red roses in the sky?

Let this not be the end,
let us love like we are young,
and die like we are old.

Oceans below us,
planets spanning above us
We are very small

Could we call it love?
We had never even met
It could never be

Hello?

Is anyone there?

I don't guess there would be.
I've asked that 100 times,
and 100 times silence answered.

I landed on this rock...
I can't say how long now.
Rations are holding up,
but I long for something more.

I long to hear a voice
someone other than me
that speaks back when
I say the words 'hello'.

I don't need a conversationalist!
Just another human being
to listen to me. Just so
I know that I actually exist.

Lately I've been wondering
that fact. I think this solitude
is starting to eat at me.
Do I know I am real?

Won't somebody say something?
Anything at all. I'm tired of
living in an echo chamber,
my only response being me.

Where is everyone? Why won't
they say something? Are they
playing some kind of prank?
Come out, wherever you're hiding!

Just say that you hear me.
Say that you understand me.
I need someone to listen
and say that they care.

Ha. Some joke this is.

I'll keep on looking then
for that someone who can
hear me. They must be out
there on this hunk of rock.

Somewhere.

Won't you sing to me,
a whisper to a scream?
Won't you tell me all
your dark, dark secrets?

Bare all for me
so that they can
see what you really
are at your very core.

To hide from the light
is to hide from truth,
I know those fears
you tuck away inside.

You don't have to shout,
just whisper in my ear,
and I'll scream it to
the world for all to hear.

If the stab of fright
has stopped you, then
allow me to speak
your heart's sad truth.

To all the world, let me say
This poor fool is guilty:
guilty of that ***** deed,
of disgusting humanity.

You're just a human,
and horribly so.
Imperfect, incomplete,
unwhole, and unwell.

A bag of tears, anxieties,
mixed emotions and fears.
You are not one of us,
just a humanly impostor..

Raindrops drip down,
staining the grimy ground wet.
Again reminded.

The air is chilly,
the wild wind blows wistfully,
wondering where you went.

The sky is setting,
red-orange hues color all.
And I am at peace

I know you are eager to see the sights,
the sounds and songs of fair Paris,
but trust me when I say Quebec
is just as wonderful and elegant.

I was born, and raised in that land,
learning much of all things grand,
from the peaks of Mount Royal,
to the art of Montreal Metro.

I learned of law and of order,
and to this day, I still enforce it so.
You know me as Chief of Police,
for this, I am widely renowned.

Yet, for all its glitz and grandeur,
and its modern beauty and glory,
there does exist a darker side to which
I must inform you in whole.

When you're visiting lovely Quebec,
and you're walking down Old Montreal,
keep an eye over your shoulder
for La Femme Folle du Montreal.  

She's said to creep in the alleyways
and between the old cobbled streets,
snooping for curious tourists
on whom she leaves her mark.

When she spots a sucker she likes,
she greets them with a smile of white,
and beckons them to come closer,
and that is when the mad woman strikes.

She guts the poor souls like dogs,
cutting and slicing them till they're raw.
Once she's done her deed, she leaves in them
the sign: "La Femme Folle du Montreal".

The police have yet to find a lead,
that didn't end up like her victims, dead.
For though her crimes are grisly in nature,
beyond her sign, no evidence has been had.

Little do those silly idiots know the truth,
that she lurks among them, laughing,
her position and rank protecting her.
No one would suspect the Chief herself!

The world is like a dancing marionette,
constantly spinning and swaying on a dime,
its movements amazing and hypnotizing,
and no one stops and sees the strings.

So they say it's all randomness and chaos,
some sort of wild, cosmic dice toss
with no sense of order and morality,
and no one to say what is wrong or right.

But the world runs on infinitesimal strings,
slowly shaking and shifting with each silent motion,
another day is decided or a drink is imbibed
each vibration choosing a nation's fate.

From the universal big beginning,
to what one had to eat for breakfast,
it all comes down to silly, simple strings,
that decide for us, all and everything.

When the sky was opened,
and you appeared,
I felt a sudden fear.

A certain realization,
a punch to the heart.
I felt the fire rising.

I saw that you were alive,
and something higher still,
while I was still here.

I wondered what it was,
grounding me down,
and you so above.

Would I be stuck here
forever alone am I,
while you stood above?

Fear turned to anger,
and anger to hate,
and here I am today.

Waiting, watching, wondering,
when next the sky will part,
and I can make my move.

If Life is truth, and never a dream,
yet dreams are a part of life,
then dreams are a true illusion.

Won't you be my crazy lady,
and won't you be my crazy baby?
Tell me that you'll rock my world,
and I'll be your lover evermore.

When I see you walking around,
I can't help but gawk in awe.
Your long hair, your soft skin,
and the way you look at night,
it sends me into such delight.

You dance the night away,
and I watch the way you sway.
I see how your body moves,
and I can't help but be in tune.

In a moment, I was hooked
like a fish on a line, out of time.
I stepped to you, asking your name,
trying to get to know you good.

You didn't say a word, but flashed a smile,
and winked and took my hand,
as we searched the Motherland.

Before I knew it, you were taking me
to all kinds of new and crazy places,
and meeting all kinds of strange faces,
but through it all, I bared through
cause I knew that I had you.

I did shots off a woman named Rita,
and shared a line with a girl named Kita,
took some pills with a lady named Lita,
and through it all, I never thought to learn your name.

Cause you were my crazy lady,
and soon, you'll be my crazy baby.

Gotta beware the ****** Machine,
the ****** Machine, quick and clean,
the ****** Machine, run you through,
the ****** Machine, rip you in two.

The ****** Machine is coming for you,
black coats, and black boots stamping in tune
in light of day and the dark of the moon.
The ****** Machine pounds its chest.

The ****** Machine blots the sky,
its oppressive cloud tainting the world,
always watching, always judging,
your faintest mistakes, always begrudging.

The ****** Machine is big, bad, and bold,
it has our minds and the masses under control
to fight, to resist is to wait and die.
The ****** Machine reigns supreme.

The world is blue,
and so are you.
I spent years tangled up in you,
but now I’m done, with all of you.

The world is blue,
and I am blue,
and you are blue,
and I am through.

My heart was blue
caught up in you.
I’ve been tying myself in two
ever since I first spotted you.

My heart is blue
and I am blue
and all is blue
but so are you.

It's a sheepy love,
making me go 'baa',
as I look on you in awe.
The way you talk,
I can't help but flock to ya..

Your voice is more than a bleat,
it makes me feel complete,
knowing you and I are real.
They can call us sheeple,
but I never cared about them,
so let's meet at the steeple.

It's mad to me to think I
ever doubted or distrusted you.
I must have been like a lost lamb
or a stray sheep searching
when all I ever really wanted
was just to have you, oh ewe.

But what can I say, really,
sheep aren't smarties,
but we make good sweaters,
so won't you hold me close,
like I was your pillow?

Let's have a sheepy love,
the sweetest love of them all.

I long for those long gone times,
when skies were blue,
and you were my truth,
among the lies of love lost.

The stars spoke our names,
reflections like pinpricks on the skyline.
so far away, yet somehow, in our reach.
Yet, was I just grasping at straws,
when I should have been grasping for you?

Caught up in myself was I,
like a mirror reflected to me,
never stopping to see your
hand in hand with mine.

Now this hand hangs down,
my head follows the compass,
and I am left to experience
what is it like for a star to die.

Alexandria, my darling,
won't you be my sunshine starling?
Won't you dance with me in the light,
and kiss me sweetly in the night?

Tell me you'll be my sweetest love,
and send my heart up stars above.
I know it's soon, and we are young,
and that it might not be true love.

But what I feel, I know is real,
and no more can this I conceal.
I care for you, I long for you,
my spirits soar when you pass through.

I say dumb things to see you smile,
I watch in awe as you ooze style.
Your fae charms have bewitched me so,
oh, how I wish, you'd be my beau.

You can call me Elsa like I'm Frozen
cause you know I never let it go,
and I won't ever let you go,
whether or not you say no.

You know I hold more grudges
than white racist judges,
I'll be your biggest regret yet,
so much more than a threat.

And it's not like I want you,
I just don't want anyone to want you,
like a toy that I don't wanna share,
then I throw away elsewhere.

I hope you know you can't ignore me,
I want my face to be in your dream or
rather a nightmare so I can hear you scream.
By the time I'm done, you won't forget me.

And like a bad addiction, you won't quit,
and each day another step down the pit.
And don't deny, cause you know it's true,
you like the pain and the daily abuse.

You and me, we're meant to be,
for better or worse, well, better for me,
and worse for you, if we're being real,
like the fisher who hooks the reel.

Like a pet, you'll be under my thumb,
while everyone else plays dumb.
There's no escape or no release,
just you begging at my feet.

Drops of waters dripping down the drain,
leaky faucet keeps ringing in my brain.
Moldy walls, and moldy halls, a mirror
of the mold festering in my soul.

Laying down on this old, musty couch,
staring at a screen reflecting my expression.
I sip from this can, and sit and wonder,
when this low life lost its luster.

Like a rusty old bicycle missing a wheel,
I just keep riding in circles with no direction,
a plague of apathy uncured by introspection.
The hardest thing is just giving a ****.

The telephone rings and rings and rings,
but I keep on thinking and thinking and thinking,
and drinking and drinking and drinking.
I sit, I think, I wonder, and I drink.

Born of the salty, watery brine,
born of the rising, rapid tide,
she of the romantic river Rhine,
she, the loving ocean's bride.

Alexandria, Queen of the Sea,
her hair like waves upon the coast,
her eyes, cerulean, looking at me.
her smile, inviting me from my post.

Her attire, alluring and appealing,
perfectly provides a picture picturesque,
of the sunlight striking the ocean ceiling.
My head spinning, my thoughts yet coalesce.

I am striding toward that distant shore,
eager to meet my aquatic queen,
to find and hold the dewy hand of lore,
that figure of myth, my dear undine.

Soon I spot the sign of my sweet
her soulful voice singing that sonorous song.
At my arrival, she turns her head to greet,
and I, in turn, gladly return the greeting along.

Her briney hand then reaches for mine,
and I hold it out past the quiet water,
fingers stretching past the gentle coastline.
My hand is ripped down to slaughter.

I walked through the forest of lies,
on my own, barefoot, and bare-skin,
like I didn't know what was where and when.
Picking up things I didn't understand,
like truffles of gold or relics in the sands.
I threw them away, I tossed them aside,
like they didn't belong to me beside.

Searching for a place that I could stand,
I walked for an age through every land,
through a river of deceit, and a wood of worry,
trying to find something that had been buried,
deep inside the treasure map of me,
but no matter I looked, I couldn't find the key.

So I packed up my things and I walked on,
like a wayward vagabond you made gone.
With each passing turn and changing season,
my back would ache and my stomach would shake,
so I knew the clock was getting ready to strike,
and I didn't need to be told to take a hike.

Something about free feels so alluring,
having no cares sounds so tempting,
but when you don't have a thing to stand for,
you find yourself searching evermore.

It's like I'm in a cage, and
you've locked the door, and
swallowed the key whole, and
now you're laughing all the way.

For so long, you've kept me down,
not let me shine like the diamond I am.
Afraid of feeling inferior, insecure, you
chose to bring me to your level instead.

You took your wrecking ball and
tore my gilded mansion down, and
burned the ashes of my soul away, and
built your rusty, rotten cage on top.

Pathetically, pitifully, you tried to
make me and shape me like your
own piece of designer clay, something
made in your own flawed effigy.

I played along for a while, I'll admit,
but I'm done drinking your pity, and
letting you play me like a game.
Today, I plant my own flag in the ground.

I'm a free man,
not your little toy.
I won't do your
stupid dance,
not any more.

They want to buy
and sell me by
the pound, but
my body's not
for sale.

I'm more than
just meat and
bones, I've a mind
and a soul, you
can't control.

You won't put
a tag on me,
or brand me as
product on
display.

I am free to be,
all that was meant
for me, with no fear
of falling apart,
keeping me down.

What I'd give to feel
something human or real,
like a lover's kiss, or
a spring's summer shine.
To feel the breeze on my
face or a warm embrace
would be greater than any
show of strength or fleet of foot

But I can't feel a thing,
my skin is like a wall,
keeping me from feeling
bullets as well as love.
Heat, cold, snow or rain,
it's all foreign to me.

All I can feel, deep down,
is the pain inside, cringing
and scrounging in my body,
wounds from a battle I can't
ever forget, or ever throw away.

All the power in this world,
that can shield me from outer harm,
or external damage like bullets or bombs
can't fix the twisted organs
or torn, bleeding muscles
that always throb and burn
with blistering, ceaseless pain.

It's a pain I can't dismiss or deny,
but I'd do it again in a minute,
for that's what a hero does,
fighting for good, ignoring the pain.

What would I be if I gave up,
just because I ached every time
I woke up or turned my neck?
Just a cowardly, craven chicken.

I'm a hero, for better or worse,
and though it may be my curse,
it's a burden I'll gladly bear,
so that the world can live free.

I want to be a hero,
someone good and true,
someone to spread peace,
and happiness to all.

I want to be a hero,
someone big and strong
who could right the wrongs
of this scary world.

I want to be a hero,
with all the love of
all the people in
every city and town.

I want to be a hero,
a person who could
save the innocent
from the wicked.

I want to be a hero,
admirable and noble,
someone not afraid
to give his life.

I want to be a hero,
who fights villains
and stop crimes
from happening at all.

I want to be a hero,
someone who is a
symbol for others
to admire and trust.

I want to be a hero,
because heroes
are what this world
really needs.

I will forget you not,
for you are what
breathed into me
a life alight anew.

You took me in,
and helped me up,
when I was falling
down, down, down.

You showed me what
it meant to be alive again,
to feel my heart-drum beat,
and to believe again.

I loved you then,
and I think I still do.
But I understood
your heart's reluctance,
and still do now.

I never considered
you had darkness in you
things that held you back,
and pushed you down.

You seemed like angel-light,
something sent from above,
meant to be my sun,
but you were just human.

Just a flesh-made person,
in ways just like me.
I never saw that then,
but now, it makes me
feel for you even more.

So I'll wait till you're
ready to hope again,
ready to believe in me,
the way I believe in you,
the way you made me believe
in myself.

And if you won't be ready ever,
then that's okay too.
For I will never forgot
what for me, did you.

You silly guy, you little man,
you don't gotta play the clown,
don't gotta dance their dance,
or do tricks to act like you're cool.

All you doing is playing their fool,
when will you think for yourself?
When you will realize you're best off
being yourself completely, with no fear.

I know it's scary being in this world,
and when you're on your own, it's
even scarier. But you don't need them
to feel safe and secure in yourself.

You don't gotta lie to impress me, man.
I know you're great just the way you are,
I know you're smarter, funnier, kinder
than they're ever going to be.

Your potential is limitless, relentless,
when will you realize this. man,
that those blood-suckers just gonna ****
you dry, and leave you when they bored.

You don't gotta be their puppet,
don't gotta let them pull your strings,
or tell you what to do and think,
they got you by a rope leading you on.

You're a hell of a guy, this I know,
but this I don't think you really know,
maybe that's why you let them treat you
like some kind of children's toy to amuse.

And yeah, I know. I'm telling you
what to think in a way, too, and you
don't gotta listen to me. But know,
that I do want what's best for you.

Deep down, I really care about you,
and want to see you happy and free,
not needing they approval to give you peace.
Not needing to falsify just to fit in.

You can do best just by doing you,
cause the you I see when you're happy,
and not around those soul-suckers
is the best you I ever did know.

You were the one I thought I loved,
the one who I thought would be mine,
to have and to love and to kiss and to hug,
and to hold and to own and to take.

But you weren't mine to own or to control,
or the object of my diseased affections.
You were your own person, with your own wants,
your own desires, and your own feelings
that didn't involve me or my dreams, and that's okay.

You owed me nothing, yet I made you feel you did,
we were friends at one time, and maybe we could
have been something more had I been aware.
But I was young and foolish and didn't know what
it meant to truly love somebody.

I thought I loved you, but I didn't.
I cared for you and longed for you,
and wanted to be with you, but
I didn't truly love you. I didn't consider
you or what you wanted, and just
tried to make you feel my way.

I let my feelings became dark and
obsessive and get the better of me, and
you were the one who suffered, not me.
It wasn't right of me, and I apologize.
I haven't seen you in many years,
and I wonder if I will ever get a chance,
to properly express my sorrow for
the way I acted and the way I treated you.

If our paths ever do cross once more,
I wish we'll be able to on terms friendly,
talk of our pasts and of our futures,
but if you're not interested, I don't blame you.

I didn't by good do you,
so why would you, the same, do?

Found on Hollywood Boulevard,
these shining stars of the silver screen,
bigger and better than us normal types.

Flint Magnum, Clint Hudson, and
of course we'd be remiss to miss,
the star, Luke "The Gent" Gable.

A modern day Rat Pack were they,
in films, on shows, even on the radio,
they were all over the place, often together.

Flint Magnum was the leading man
of Deadly Picture, the horror classic,
and countless other scream-scenes.

Clint Hudson played the simple man
the every-man in every rom-com
your mind could ever fathom.

But The Gent was the biggest of them,
leading roles in dramas and thrillers,
and comedies, and even chillers.

Oscars and Tony's and even a few Annie's,
won this shining star. Critics adored him,
and the masses wanted to be him.

It can be said with a grain of truth,
that the pack was best when together.
Whenever they met, magic was made.

Their life's epic finally culminated,
in a 4-hour glory, of action and drama,
it won every award, with praise galore.

Fiery Flint and Careful Clint wrote the yarn,
and played their role fitting, while the Gent
directed and led this star-studded affair.

Citizen Kane could hardly compare,
to the grandeur and scope of this tome,
with it, their reputations forever sealed.

Clint, Flint, and the Gent who favored
a fine hat are the finest fellows of our
and maybe any era of film or culture.

A simple man named Emory Lee,
walked through the streets of Tuskegee.

With a small sack on his back,
and a big stick to go thwack!

Emory Lee, oh Emory Lee,
he's the pride of Tuskegee!

With a sweet smile on his face,
although he does lack grace.

He makes it up with lots of *****,
and a life more fit for a monk.

Emory Lee, oh Emory Lee,
he's the pride of Tuskegee!

A simple mind and a simple kind,
makes for a man worth a find.

Look past his ragged attire,
and you'll see a man to admire.

Emory Lee, oh Emory Lee,
he's the pride of Tuskegee!

Sharply dressed in their finest duds,
The night-life awaits these young studs.
As they walk the streets of thunder,
Prepared to tear this town 'sunder.

Clint, Flint, and the top-hatted Gent,
The trio terrific struts in Kent's
Ordering their usual brew,
An air of trouble starts to stew.

Ed, Fred, and Mr. Lead-Head Ted
Decked out in ratty, torn thread,
Decide to make their presence known.
Clint, shaking his head, can just groan

Ted grunts to the bartender, "Three!"
Fred glares hard, expecting no fee.
Ed stares blankly, always quite slow.
The barkeep stammers out a no.

The brute's eyes widen, surprise clear.
In a second, his features sneer.
He barks out his demands once more.
The fool stands his ground, finger to door.

The thugs rise from their seats, laughing.
They smirk and they scoff, still clapping.
"Oh, really" they say, all with grins.
They circle like sharks, suits like fins.

Before things can get any worse,
And 'fore they have to call a nurse,
Clint, Flint, and the top-hatted Gent
Decide to make then their ascent.

The trios all **** heads, jawing.
The bar senses a brawl gnawing.
All it takes is just one thrown fist,
One clenched fist to make a face kissed

Hours pass, and much blood does spill.
The trio fights, through force of will.
Soon enough a winner is called,
And Fred, Ed, and Ted lay out sprawled.

The crowd claps and cheers for the three,
Clint, Flint, and the Gent, all marquee.
The barkeep smiles, handing their bill.
They groan, before drinking their fill.

Step to me, o' child of sun.
Come along, o' mother moon.
Join us all, o' father time.
To a place where all laws stop.

Space, Time, Order, Chaos.
Endlessly shifting, altered eternal.
Dimensions shatter, reality falls.
Forces bubble, gravity smashed.
Crackling quarks, equal
Universal heart attack.

Past the end of forever, and
Through the border of nevermore.
To see the secret of the universe,
Follow me to the edge of infinity.

Life, Death, Love, Hate.
Man's quest, forever unanswered.
Truth and lies, dishonest alibis.
Questioning reason, senses falter.
Beyond understanding, lies true reality.
Cthulhu rules, Man madly dies.

Turn through time eternal.
Rush past the door of eternity.
To see the secret of the universe,
You must follow to the edge of infinity.

Come one, come all!
View the finest jester of them all!

Zanthus, the clown, in all his glory.
Allow his jests to tell his story.
A pie to the face, a fancy trick.
The finest juggler on our earth!
Through rain, sleet, snow, he
Always comes to work, even when sick.

All who see his mad act laugh, and laugh.
You shall find Zanthus quite merry.
This I swear, or get your money back.
Some clowns your children may find scary.
Not he, his jests are light, and airy.

But beyond his many tricks and whimsies,
And past his colorful look, and bright clothes
There lies a truth, past his red nose.
The solemn reality of Zanthus the clown!

Trust not the smile painted on his happy face,
Instead look and laugh at the agony in his eyes.
His shoulders are hunched in abject misery,
This is the truth that tells his true history.

LAUGH at his sadness!
Take GLEE in his anguish!
For this is the true humor,
Of Zanthus, the tragic clown!

God is perception,
But perception be NOT reality.

Your God, My God, His God, Their God,
All different in their own way.
The God of Kentucky is hardly the God of Malaysia.
This alone proves what I say.

Were God truly universal,
His worship would be no rehearsal.
With each culture getting it wrong
All would believe the same, everlong.

So this is the truth.
God is a state of mind.
He, and indeed, all deities,
Rest in the hearts of man.
Everything else is needless pieties.
Restricting, repressing, regressing, restraining
Our natural desires, the flaming pyres.

What you believe is well and good,
Does not change the way it is.
What is real, what is true,
Is what we know, what we sow.

Whatever one might explain with God,
The laws of our world describe quite nicely.
And if our Truth fulfills the duty.
What need we God for in our modern society?
Can not we take solace in our man-made beauty?

Once, I had dreams
Of what could be
Of you, of me.

Could we be?
Would we be?
Should we EVEN be?

Questions pondered,
Wonders wondered,
Of love and romance,
Our bodies, in a dance.

You, my dear rose.
I, your sweet peach.
Gay could we be.
You and I, simply carefree.

But dreams fade like the end of day,
Left me to deal with my heart gray.
My true love, you did not desire.
My passions burned, like white hot fire.

They overwhelmed you.
I do not blame you.
I still cherish you.

My love is still yours.

Oswald Oddfellow was an odd fellow,
Building bridges, surely a strong fellow.
Greeting his boss, truly a kind fellow
To all his friends, he was a fine fellow.

Perhaps not sharp of wit was he,
Nor mighty mentally was he
Flights of fancy were not his forte
On tests of mind, he would fall short

But if you ever sought a mate,
This odd Oddfellow was just great.

In life, though, all is not it seems.
What we wish to be in our dreams
Will not always match what is real.
The strife of Longfellow's hard life
Was taken out on his poor wife.
His child, his pride and joy alone,
Was spared not the wrath of his stone.

Until one day, he, his poor wife and lost son
Were found hanging, their lives surely outrun.
On seeing the fate of their Oddfellow,
All declared, 'He was quite an odd fellow.'

I'm a loser.
That much is true.
I'm a loser.
At all I do.

Throughout the many years,
And through my many tears,
I've found it to be true.
I'm a fool, through and through.

Bitter sadness is my chum.
My poor heart is like stained glass.
Fragile and weak, but alas,
I'm a loser, and I'm ****.

I am ugly, disgusting to the core.
My face revolts and repels, yet cries for more.
To all my friends, I am sure they abhor.
In the end, it only goes to show that

I'm a loser, akin to a mere gnat.
You could slap me, and I wouldn't slap back.
I had it coming, of that I am sure,
Because I'm a loser, and nothing more.

I have longed for love, and affection aplenty.
Yet all I have had is rejections a many.
Of all the women whom I ever came to know,
None alone would think of me as their love, their beau.

My shoulders narrow, my wrists small, my posture slump,
Could it be held against them to give me the bump?
In the end, I can say I deserved it all for
I'm a loser, and frankly, I'm also a bore.

Dear god,
Your pain, it burns
Your scorn, it tears
Your hate, it rips

And yet they call it
Your LOVE.

Dear god,
Answer me this.
Would a true god slaughter
Children just to make a point?
I've seen your 'love', and it's just
HATE dressed up in the brightest blues,
The boldest reds, the finest greens, the sunniest yellows.
I'm not fooled, I see your heart, a dark BLACK!

Dear god,
This is my address to you, old friend.
No longer do we need you, this is the end.
There is true knowledge, a flame of light
Burning with reason and logic, a fire bright!
We call it science, but you can call it your deathbed.
Your rule by fear reign will soon be overcome.
A rule of peace and love will be what we won.

Dear god,
I hope you are ready.
Be not proud, god, for today,
Thou shalt die!

I am the happy bunny.
I hop, and when I hop,
I laugh, and I squeak.
Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, I go!
My little bunny nose
Squinches to and fro.

I am the happy bunny.
I hop, and when I hop,
I am carefree, happy, and full of glee,
When I go hopping on my little tree!
Hop, Hop, Hop, I go! My little bunny legs
Leap to and fro.

I am the happy bunny.
I hop, and when I hop,
I see my master, as he looks at my cage
He smiles, and laughs when I wiggle my ears!
Wiggle, Wiggle, Wiggle, I go! My little bunny ears
Wriggle to and fro.

I love him, and he loves me, and he
Makes me the happiest bunny I could be.

I am the sad child.
I cry and when I cry,
No tears fall.
Cry, Cry, Cry, I go.
My sad, little eyes
cry and cry.

I am the sad child.
I smile, and when I smile...
I can't smile.
Smile, Smile, Smile, I try.
But all I can manage is
A pathetic cry.

I am the sad child.
I laugh, and when I laugh,
It is hollow.
Hoh, Hoh, Hoh, I go.
I am cold, and hollow,
and empty inside.

I am the sad child,
I wonder, and when I wonder.
This is what I wonder.

Why can't I be the happy bunny?
Others are happy, yet I am not.
Must this loneliness forever be my lot?
On the surface, I appear to be sunny
But I am nothing, not even a happy bunny.

When I was a small boy,
I felt sadness, lacked joy.
Life led me oft astray
Without direction, I
Was led off and away.

'Til one day, I came to
Find a strange place, full of
Greenery, with which view
Did I examine deep
My heart swooned, my mind 'thused
All was so full of love

The red roses, in bloom eternal
The tulips, bright and universal
The grand grass, viridian shining.
All the while, my heart came to pining.
Such beauty on Earth has yet repeat'd

Longer I stayed,  and more blithe
Did my longing heart become.
Soon, I gave in, those feelings
Did overrun my fool mind.

As I sang sweet hymns,
And drank the good wine
That tasted so fine.
I laughed, and I pranced,
I smiled and I danced
In The Garden of Love

Life was good, and my soul did bloom
With the warmth of my Garden of Love.
Through the years, many visits were made,
And much joy had, and real love was found
I found a world, where no dark did loom.

'Till one day, many years later.
I trekked the path above
to my wondrous Garden of Love.
The place that did to me cater.

But when, at last, I arrived
My eyes were shocked to see
An awful sight, most evilly contrived.
There was nothing, not at all!
At once, all joy I had ceased to be.
I screamed, but none answered my call.

The Garden of Love was empty.
No roses, no tulips in assembly.
No lovely bushes or shrubbery
Were there to guide or guard.
I was alone, my soul scarred.

Hours long did I stand in wonder,
Many thoughts my mind did ponder.
Where had my grand Garden gone
With its warmth and its undying love?
Why had it left me to suffer on and on?

Eventually, my mind stopped its wonder.
The truth grew clear, my heart renewed.
The Garden of Love never was,
And will never be. All that I thought
Was there, was but a mirage.
A facade my soul furthered
To give my mind a source of comfort.

Though I cried and cried at
This disheartening revelation.
When my tears ceased, the truth was clear
With time, I would grow for the better.

There was a Garden of Love, nobler within,
That would guide me to a new life, happier still!

At my door, he stands.
At my bed, he lands.
At my soul, he stabs.
At my heart, he grabs.

My last breath, he laughs.

There was once a man
Who guided us all.
His name was Wise Dan.
We heeded his call.

Kindness was his tool,
But he was no fool.
At heart, he was shrewd.
But never was he rude.

His mind was so sharp
His wit, it could stab.
But much like a harp,
Could any soul he'd grab.

But for all his worth,
And his hearty mirth.
Of chinks, there was one
That would make him done.

Oh, how he would boast.
"Heaven itself will
Be made, to us, toast."
His will was our will.

His virtue was true,
And as if on cue
We would follow him
No matter his whim.

Our love, it was his.
He was like our king,
He could never miss.
The world was his ring.

But it was for naught,
He would soon be caught.
One day, he would boast
"If you are the host,

Of it all, then prove!
Prove your truth, o' Lord!
Show us, I behoove!
Give me cause to hoard!"

At once, lightning struck.
The bolt it did pluck
Our Wise Dan from Earth.
Our souls felt the dearth.

What Lord would do that,
To a good fellow?
No tip of the hat,
For one so mellow.

Today, still I wonder.
My mind does ponder.
But still do I love.
Wise Dan, that poor dove.

His heart was true pure,
And his love was all.
He would be the cure
Had God not the gall.