Dearest don't frown,
when you're blue and down,
for even if I'm out of town,
you'll see me twirling,
around and around,
in a majestic princess gown,
making your frown go upside down.

Dearest don't cry,
and sigh,
if I happen to say,
Goodbye,
for I'll be your guardian
up in the sky,
within the clouds so high.

Dearest don't weep,
yourself to sleep,
trying, but failing to count sheep,
for in the dark hours I creep,
protecting, watching, observing...
You as your tired body tries to sleep.

Dearest don't shout,
nor pout,
when I'm out,
and doubt,
that I've forgotten you,
for I'm your guardian angel from above,
watching you as I should,
smiling a sad smile,
as you fall into dreams clutches,
after mourning for so long.

Dearest don't cut,
it's not the answer but...
put one foot,
before the other and you'll find, that a path has formed.

Dearest I hate watching your life-long struggle; humour me and find the light, choose the right path...

'Cause life's like a circus; you have to take chances juggling multiple ***** and fight lions and walk the rope...

Dearest be good,
as I know you could,
make me beam,
in a place unseen,
where I watch as you struggle,
with your father's mistakes,
with the absence of a motherly figure...

Dearest make me proud,
join the crowd,
of those that heed,
a dead mother's call...

In the shade of my smile,
echoes a certain depletedness,


in the depths of my eyes,
is a spectacle of inanition,


in the chaos of my heart,
lies one true thing, a lie...

Flutter of silver wings,

The feeling freedom brings,

Flapping a harmonious breeze,

A chilly glacial freeze,

Over my tethered limbs,

Counting the Devil's Sins,

Moon-face, beaming brightly,

Shadows dancing on the nightly,

A nocturnal suave,

My heart's empty cave...

Another poet from another age,

Proudly standing the pressure of the locked cage,

Racing heart beating in a fitful rage,

Innocent as a blooming pitcher sage,

Colours flying in fits of energetic madness,

Eagles watching from the mountain ledge,

Thousands of actors on stage,

Ongoing act of inhumanity,

Perhaps one day they'll realize,

Another day the sun won't rise from the east, nor set in the west,

Youthful wishes, sighs of deception, apocalypse



(acroustic: A PRiCE TO PAY)

The sun showering me with her morning kisses,
The wind purring long-forgotten secrets,
The clouds, moving, surveying, observing,
The trees whispering of tales long-foretold,
The nightingales singing sweetly of divine tragedies,
The ocean holding a secret at heart,
The stars witnessing what should be kept behind bars,
The moon mourning, the earth as it once was.

Flickering gently, sending an enigma across every face,

Breeze of jasmine scent
bathing o'er us,

Candleflame, scarlet wonder,
source of life, source of warmth,
my relief, my first class solitude.

Dark shadow creatures
of the night, dancing glorious
dances of the ol' days,
them young, joyous girls.

Drums beating in time,
with my heart,
dancers jumping, spinning in time,
all in the shadows
of a single candleflame.

On a mournful dark night,
in the ghastly moonlight...


  *

---What I was thinking when writing it:
I was thinking of African dancers and shadow plays and the eiry moonlight that reminds me of a candle. A completely different world of beauty and magic.