T'was a rainy day with a foggy haze
- an' all o' the animals seemed to laze
- 'round their dens, nests, an' holes.
Aye - these falling drops've taken their toll!

Diamond an' sapphire stones
- is what I'd like to dress your bones
- in - but this salesman in Dublin
- wishes not to front me them
- not even - with ID - an' down payment.

Rose quartz, diamonds, an' sapphires;
- all o' these things: I'd get from the mart
- if only ta' light an intense, burning fire
- in your, so, beautiful an' vibrant heart.

Alas, me' pockets - all - be empty
- so all I may do is tempt thee
- with an invitation, given gladly,
- ta' join my picnic in the valley.

So - tell me -
- *is that something you'd fancy?

A great an' immense amount o' pressure
- combined with, just, enough intense heat
- causes gems ta' grow, slow, in Gaia's cellar;
- they're ta' be mined an' sold, cheap, on the street.

It seems, ta' me, that this act, nay - this feat,
- will, always, be ta' cycle and repeat :
- for - we humans love things that're shiny.

But - do we, all, take into full account
- the true beauty o' these seas and these mount-
-ains - that cause gemstones ta' form underground?

Aye - at least they bring, to the buyer's life, glee;
- course' that's only if, "Yes," *is said - whilst on a knee.

Rose quartz, diamonds an' sapphires:
-I'd give you them all, just, to light a fire
- and cause your spirits ta' lift up higher
- cause' you are the one which I admire.

Rubies, sparkling citrine or pearls;
I'd gift you any mineral in the world
- cause' it makes my mind, endlessly, twirl:
- imagining you - as, my queen, my girl.

Amber, ammolite, an' lapis lazuli;
- Aye - I'd buy you all o' this, truly,
- to ensure your mind's never gloomy.
Is it a far-fetched dream? Absolutely.

An' am I a fool to believe it ta' be possible?
Unfortunately - it's an outcome very plausible.

"Alas, though, these are all, but, far-fetched dreams :
fillin' my mind with lust for an adorable fairy queen."

Oh- the things I'd do to get close ta' you
- an' feel, tightly around my head, your thighs.
You know not what a magnificent view
- you are seen as through this peasant's eyes.

Aye - I'd do it all - if only to be called yours;
- I'd build you a home o' bricks within the sticks!

I've felt sort-a down : I'm sure your love's the cure
- an' I'd do whatever it takes to get my fix..
I'd build you a giant cabin in the Irish highlands!

Oh - thee things I'd do to be called your guy;
- I'd shower you in silver, gold and diamonds!
Aye - I'd gift you all the gems I can buy!

Call me crazy - but - I'd do this much
- if only to feel, upon my skin, your touch!

To keep my mind from feeling blue :
- all, it is, I have to think about is you
- an' about those, absolute, beautiful eyes
- that resemble a magnificent Summer's sky.

Aye - she shines like a gem, ever, so bright
- an' brings unto the Earth - a vibrant light!
Oh me, oh my, what an immaculate sight -
- an' for her affection: I shall put up a fight.

Would it be foolish, or silly, of me
- to purchase gemstones for thee
- when I know not how you feel
- an' I know not if they are real:
- all o' these feelings in my heart?

Nay- it would not be so smart
- for me to spend so much
- over this lust-filled hunch.
Though, - I think I'd do this much
- if only to feel your angelic touch.

Have I gone completely mad
- or am I attempting to clear a path
- which leads me into your hands?
These feelings are hard ta' understand.

Hunks o' rose quartz, diamond an' sapphires:
- tis' these shining stones - which your admirer
- would love to gift you - an' dress your bones in.
Aye - I'd love to see this necklace lying upon the skin
- of your chest, or - rather, - of your *******:
- tis' that same place I'd love to make a nest,
- an' take, such, a soothing an' peaceful rest.
Aye - with my dreaming head upon your ****:
- I'd listen, attentively, ta' your perfect heart's beat
- an' wish we, both, could stay like this for weeks!

Come sit a while in my little, wood shack;
- I'll stoke the fire up, bright an' high, for you
- an' I'll cook you a, fit for royalty, snack :
- "Aye - pine needle tea an' a rabbit stew,
- course' - only if this all sounds good ta' you!"
                               - - - -
I'll place a black wolves' hide upon your back
- to ensure your bones don't feel the brisk draft
- which blows through the small, wood wall's cracks;
- nay - woodworking was not ever my craft!
                              - - - -
So - still - the blustery breeze blows, on, in;
- but - we drink, we eat, we talk & we laugh,
- an' we lose all track o' the time that's passed.
                              - - - -
Eventually we don't notice the breeze blowing in
- for - we've become two bits o' stardust rubbing skin.
                              - - - -
T'will be this act which causes Giddy ta' grin
- an' inspire his glowing heart ta' scribble out hymns.

Spring be the time that thee Sun brightly shines,
- tis' the time when all o' the plants come ta' life,
- an' t'wards the moon - I hear the coyotes' whine.
Aye - tis' this time when human's happiness arrives
- an' we, each, find beaming smiles upon our faces.
Do you not feel that blissful, enticing spirit?
Tis' now that every creature feels they belong.
I ask you again, friend, do you not hear it?
Tis' like the Earth playing bass to the birds song!
Don't let the rain drops do the same to your mood
- for - the clouds'll, ever so, shortly pass by!
Don't allow for exterior energy to make you crude;
- be the most joyful you can be, at least try!
Go dance, with your closest friends, out in the rain:
- I promise you - it'll wash away, most o,' the pain!

We have all become very glum an' down
- an' with it - we've begun to lash out;
- thus: giving others more reasons ta' pout.
Aye - it seems that I see a lot more frowns
- as I, aimlessly, roam round' these ghost towns.
An' - in me mind : without a single doubt
- I'm aware that trouble's about ta' sprout;
- it'll roll in quick - without being announced.
Aye! I see the hard times stored for you an' me;
- Yay! - for - I have examined each of the hints.
- an' I hope you, all, find a smile in times a-blue.
Giddy's plea is that you'll stand strong as an ole' tree
- not snapping for, even, the harshest, most frigid a-winds;
-- an' know that with compassion: we'll get through.

People tend to only listen
- to the words that glisten,
- or have been deemed to be true,
- through their foggy eye's view.
Yay! Through vision so askew :
- all heard falsities become truth
- an' they'll mislead the youth
- in their publicly funded schools.
There ought to be some sort a-rule
- against indoctrinating children.

Oh, you foolish ***** within my chest,
- you hardly pump adequate blood through me
- an' should I rise too quick: I'll fall t'wards me' feet;
- upon an ole' wooden floor: I'll make my nest.
Yay- tis' where I'll take a brief, uninvited rest!

What - then, heart, makes you dream o' bliss an' glee
- which all seem to revolve round' that fairy
-- the one with the gems on her fingers an' neck?

Oh- you silly an' foolish heart, you,
- you know you could end up a shade o' navy.
Oh- but she makes you sing jingles so merrily
- when you witness such a beautiful view!
Oh- you know you may be hurt, greatly,
- but - even still - you dream on carelessly.

She who summons those songbirds with ease
- will be - in each life - much too good for me;
- though, - a mean, mannish boy can dream
- bout' those eyes that shimmer an' gleam.
                                Yay!
Tis' early April - an' I've proven myself a fool
- for I'm dreaming bout' that glimmering jewel.
                               Nay!
The things I do dream : they may not ever be
- but I refuse ta' let my blind eyes know they can't see.
                                ---
So -- even still - I continue to dream
- an' stay, so ignorantly, full o' glee.
                                 ---
*I am, but, a fool.
Yay - one who'll
 - stay adoring
 - that glimmering jewel
- o' a human being.

Those ole,' sky-high birch trees grew askew
- due to the harsh an' relentless winds that blew
- through those high an' rolling, golden prairies.
Tis' that place where all o' the remaining Fairies  
- tended to merrily roam an' call their home.
Tis' there where all the weeds're overgrown
-an', yet, no one, much, seems to mind
- for it all seems ta' be perfectly designed;
-- an' nothing could ever change it's beauty
-- less, o' course, humans should choose ta' act crudely.

If only - he knew
- which o' these warm words to use
- whilst speaking to you.

Thee songbirds fly straight t'wards her hand
- an', to be honest, I completely understand
- why they, all, make their way into her palms;
- she catches ones eye like ancient artifacts o' bronze,
- or shining, gem-crested rings made o' silver or gold,
- or leather, hard spined books that're, ever so, old!
Yay- she shone like a quartz crystal in the sunlight
- an' caused all the bandits to pause their gunfight
- as they admired her crossing the street
- with big, ole' fairy boots on her feet!

With the cruel, cold an' blustery storm
- comes the need for humanity to find warmth.
Yay- it causes me bones ta' freeze so quick
- and crack under pressure like fallen twigs.
Nay - there'll be no hunting, nor gathering, today;
- for - we've, all, been ignored by the Suns rays
- an' this wicked wind storm looks here to stay.

Yay- a fierce an' frigid winter wind
- keeps all o' the peasants confined
- to, each, their own homes an' dens.
Or- rather - wherever they were when
- that brisk breeze began to blow
- an' the foggy sky began to snow.

I attempt to stay clear of thoughts, so, sour
- but, regardless, I find my mind devoured
- by the dark figure, cloaked in a robe o' black;
- he's taken hold o' my brain an' won't give it back.
He has a vice-like grip on the fabric of my soul;
- yay - he seems to have stolen all control.

Oh -- when the wind blows
- an' there's no one around:
- my troubled mind - she goes
- spinning right round an' around.

To find oneself relieved of any outstanding grieve,
- into the late hours of this wicked winter's eve,
- shan't be my fortune tonight - I do tru-ly believe.

This storm leaves humanity nestled in its dens
- waiting out that cold an' fierce winter wind;
- an' the fog that rolls in : it's, ever, so dense.

T'was the day they trimmed him mane
- an',  suddenly, he looked - just - the same
- as every other peasant boy being sent to war;
- an' they never questioned what they're dying for.

The hidden secrets
- that you may not ever know
- are held by royals.

His season o' sorrows had seceded;
- the joy crept in reluctant an' slow, though,
- because he was aware the cycle'll be repeated.
Yay- t'was one thing that he did, certainly, know:
- that - with the blustery an' bone chilling snow
- will be brought along another season o' sorrow.
For now, though, he'll enjoy the golden suns glow.

White drifts melt- forming shallow, surging creeks:
- thus- bright colours o' green'll arrive within weeks
- an' each o' our spirits will, surely, be enlightened.
Yay - thee shades o' spring are, ever, so vibrant;
- an' we, each, will find shining smiles upon our faces!
T'wards the blue skies, we'll sing our joyful praises:
- songs o' appreciation to the great Mother Earth.
We'll sing along with the soaring, high up, birds.
Yay; it'll, certainly, inspire all o' our joyful words
- an' the streams'll gleam, bright, in the suns rays  
- whilst thee children, carelessly - in the garden, play.

The orange leaves o' last fall begin to emerge
- as the white drifts deteriorate to form surg-
-ing streams that tear through the low prairie
- an', suddenly, human kind seems more merry
- than they were in the recent months an' weeks;
- yay - a joyful smile crosses humanity's cheeks!
It must've something to do with the changing season;
- tis' the only reason - that I can comprehend.

T'is a world full o' entrapment
- should you loathe the establishment;
- be weary with your communications
- for there may be implications
- when they spy on you and I.
Nay- nothing escapes their eyes!
They'll monitor each our calls;
- no matter, just, how small
- o' a talk it might, very well, be.
Yay- they do spy on me and thee!
Nay- nothing escapes their eyes
- but, even still, we must try, our best, to devise
- a quiet, fool proof strategy to see humanity rise.
For - if we fail : a free human kind will surely die.

It seems, as though, we live in a time so grim
- an' I believe the world'll need a few more spins
- 'round the sun before it'll, ever again, be fun
- for our daughters & sons ta', in the garden, run.
Once the war's done - an' lowered've been the guns:
- maybe then, we'll see the tiny crumbs of buns
- that the mothers had baked for the boys who'd won.
But - the men at war with their heads felt none,
- in terms of peace, an'-  nor did their sons;
- they are the children of a massive war
- an' don't understand what all o' the death was for.

I was headed on down to Chadron, Nebraska;
- for: I, dearly, needed some time away
- an' I was craving a bit o' Americana,
- so - I hit each Waffle House on the way.

As I passed through the mountains in Deadwood:
- I, seemingly, understood that manhood
- was still a couple thousand miles away
- so I threw my smoldering cigarette in the ashtray
- an' pulled into the next little, roadside cafe.

Should I never make it to Nebraska:
- look through those trees in South Dakota.
I'm certain that your eyes'll spot me;
- out on those Black Hills, in the Elm
- laced mountain tops, : tis' where I'll be
- likely.

We must, each, protect our own:
- tis' one thing I've been shown.
For - thee kings an' queens shall not;
- we are but animals, caught, in their kingdom
- an' they'll, gladly, send out firing squads
- should we speak out o' our lack o' freedom.

He staggers, so, slow down a lonesome road
- in El Dorado: the only home he'd ever known.
He attempts to grasp some truth, alone, in the street
- but winds up hearing, only, his rambling feet
- and those coyotes who'll cry t'ward the sky,
- t'wards that waning moon: resting, oh, so high.
Letting out a sigh, he cannot comprehend why
- all o' these citizens, ever, so faithfully comply
- to thee system o' people who're, oh, so sly
- an' would love to see us all bleed out an' die
- if it gets them a new sports car or a blue silk tie.
Tis' a kind o' world to make people lay down an' cry.

A fierce an' blusterous wind blows 'round the snow;
- bringing with it - to many a-men : great woes.
It does, so, bring sorrow - an' it's hard to swallow :
- that bone-chilling, brisk breeze out o' thee west.
It blows in, determinedly, - as if it is on a quest;
- a bitter journey putting many a-men to the test.

Nay- there'll be no hunting, nor gathering, today;
- guess all we can do now : ration thee food an' pray.

This Earth rotates so, very, fast
- an' for some : it's a total blast.
Though, for some : it's complete hell -
- being locked up on this spherical dwell-
-ing. Yes! To some, this world does sting;
- an' - sorrow, to some : it sure does bring.
Even still, though, Earth spins circles 'round the Sun
- and any sort o' closure is, barely, little to none.

None o' us could, ever, really know,
- just exactly, where each o' us go
- when all o' the bright lights go dim  
- an' our bodies are, suddenly, limp.
Do we, all, get to see some grand being
- when we cease to continue breathing;
- or- does it all, simply, turn to dark black
- with no chance o' us ever getting back?
"Should we find ourselves six feet under
- or, up, high above the thunder?" I wonder.
Do our souls elevate to some magical space
- or do we, all, lie still in our boxes with grace?
We might not ever know the, exact, truth
- but, even still, the trees - they bear lively fruit
- an' the Earth still spins round' the Sun..
An' - for now, e'rything seems to be calm.

Most all ancient poems will find new homes :
- rewritten in the scribblers of scribes
- who've never read them in their lives.

Expect thee worst & hope for the best;
- don't trouble your mind with all o' the rest
- of the details. Ya' see? Even the slowest of snails
- will infiltrate the deceased rabbit's den-
- eventually.

Oh- so very high up in thee eastern skyline,
- towering buildings glimmer in, such, a busy city;
- of a greed-filled utopia: they're gargantuan shrines
- an' in the people trapped beneath, I take, such, pity.

Spending forty hour, plus, a week working a **** job:
- just trying to find enough cents to pay rent
- for a **** apartment. It's nonstop: this plot
- that the elites an ' cronies have up and dreamt.

It'll torment the best of men, to see, ever so, clearly
- all o' thee sick acts that the elites'd like to do
- to you
- and me.

Politicians are receiving golden medals an' awards
- for sending hundreds of thousands o' men to war.
These men march to death, merely following accords,
- without ever asking, just, what they're all dying for.
They, do, believe they are fighting for their country
- unaware they are, but, violent, disposable monkeys
- who are being used by corporations to make money.
An army of blinded men: full o' hatred for "commies,"
- an' ignorant that their deaths, "boost the economy."
Tis' a ****** shame: they got trapped in this game
- an' their sons, regrettably, are bound to do the same..

Imbeciles scribbling death threats to "the Donald;"
- all because: their whole life, they've been coddled
- by their teachers, parents, and the television set.
Lil' do they know: HRC would've been war & death.
Though, they'll keep regurgitating the media's lies..
- all because they've blinders pulled over their eyes.
I suppose, I, do, feel sorry for the wandering sheep;
- because all o' their third eye's are, oh, so asleep.

Wake up.
Stop letting them destroy your species.
You, truly, are the change you wish to see;
- if you're nothing but a hateful pawn,
- in the greedy elite's information war,
- what, then, becomes of the Earth?

Oh, the amount of irony
- in her saying, "she loves me,"
- when within, mere, weeks
- she's speaking with, "Cory."

Enjoy his tongue within your cheeks;
- for: you won't ever see me - again.

Your love and your passion are pretend.

I'll be in the trees- waiting on the world to end.

It's not, at all, that I'm afraid of technology!
It's that - I fear that thee elites'll commandeer
- and in turn decide what, all, is mythology;
- they're cruel and've had their status for years.
With their satellites & their drones in the skies,
- and their nosy, little devices in all o' our pockets:
- on everything each of us do, they have eyes.
They could **** each one of us with their rockets;
- that's an incredible trust to, fully, put in
- the evil ones who have proven themselves..
Who will, and has, killed our elders and kin.
Who will, so easily, put us up on their shelves
- in the ole' books of the people that they've killed
- themselves.

Exchanging a large coffee for two-hundred cents
- in a, oh - so, desperate attempt to prevent
- himself from falling, fast, asleep at the wheel
- and crashing his big, ole', blue hunk o' steel.
Driving, so, slowy down a snowy prairie road,
- with no particular place, in his mind, to go,
- beneath a, winter's, waxing gibbous moon's glow;
- tis' where you'll, certainly, find Aegidius O'Crow,
- somewhere way out west o' big & bright Toronto.
Where he often goes, though, people seldom know.

A private passenger jet flies on by, and past,
- leaving lethal chemicals, so, high up in the sky
- to be breathed in by your' and my own gasps;
- it causes each & every one of us to, slowly, die.
It's all been decided by some ole' greedy guy
- sitting in a golden office, so, high up in the sky.
An' he has an air filtration system, of course;
- for, he doesn't need his throat feeling hoarse.
Though, it seems it's fine if it's you or mine..
- oh yes; he's guilty of such a dastardly crime!
He kills all our mothers - and kills all our fathers..
- oh yes; he is, truly, such a sinister monster!
He'll **** all our siblings and **** all our children;
- his mission is a cruel one of killing off millions!
We have no way to stop what is being displayed;
- he's a master of evading all those he betrayed.

They'll stage false flag shootings
- so - that they can begin looting
- us all o' our rifles and muskets.
But - they get to keep their rockets
- and shoot missiles into our homes.
They'll leave us slingshots & stones
- and tell us that we'll all be, just, fine
- unless we should step over a line;
- and if we do, they'll send in nine
- of their Teflon-covered fine-
-st troops: who'll come in and shoot
- us all before we can grab our boots
- and wonder who broke through
- the front door.

In order to make a dollar and to get ahead:
- they wish to see us all deceased,
- (Yes!) they wish to see us all dead,
- or crippled, at least, with man-made disease.
The last thing they wish to see is for us to be free;
- so - they'll **** us in any way possible:
- infecting your family, thee, me, and we
- in ways so, very, cruel and methodical.
The truth is: we are no longer human beings;
- we are, simply, their livestock- or product.
I assure you that you and/or your siblings
- will feel their, so, inhumane misconduct;
- for - it is t'wards each, and every, one of us.
They'll do anything in their power to **** us all.
Please, please, don't - in thee elites put your trust
- because- in their lives: we are pawns, so small.
We must, all, break away from their society,
- we must build up our forts up in the trees,
- if any o' us have a hope of being free
- or, ever in our lives, seeing liberty!
For - all our rifles: they will come to seize,
- tis' a worried attempt to take our arms,
- ensuring they're the only ones who can cause harm.

Can't you see: we all must abandon society?
For: thee elites get off on robbing our liberty
- and replacing it instead with, such, misery.
They are the ones who control our history
- and show all o' us, only, their victories;
- what they refuse to speak of - is the injuries
- put on our ancestors skin - and arteries.
They own each o' our land & properties
- and force us to slave away in factories
- manufacturing batteries for their missiles;
- they'll speak in vague, so, unclear riddles
- when we ask them, "where will they whistle?"
Towards a home, leaving children all alone
- without parents, is where the missiles'll be thrown.
This much is known of those missiles o' chrome.

" - we may never find ourselves joyful."

What defines a man?
The words he chooses to use
- whenever he can.

"What in thee hell have you woken cheerful for?
Tis' but another start of nineteen eighty-four:
- this much I am sure, and can assure- you, of.
Tis' but another year of satellites spying from above
- & tis' but another year of people dying from more
- manmade infections, bugs, and diseases whose cure
- will never be given to us peasants: this much's sure.
What reason do they have to save us people they ignore?
We're deplor-able
- and we'll all be dead before- you know."

I seem to get the blues
- each time I watch the news
- cause' it's always, "Oh- look whose
- been shot dead for his shoes!"
It leaves me, oh, so very confused
- and I can't seem to catch a clue
- as to why humans get infused with *****
- and try to bruise people with different worldviews.
Thus: the cops cruise- down the avenues
- and keep an eye on I and, each of, you.
What none of us seem to, willingly, view
- is if we formed a grand, organized crew:
- we could read stories of how we overthrew
- our masters in the history books of the past
- in and around three-thousand fifty-three.
Oh- how things could be so lovely, pretty,
- if we'd aim our eyes & arms at real enemies & harm
- in our lives. But, even still, they'll take our lives.
Because- silent, discreet leaders will always survive;
- they don't care if they sacrifice five thousand
- of their pawns: young dumb men who have gone
- willingly to their grave - to **** people who behave
- in a way their masters say, graceful as ballet,
- is, "so, very, distasteful. - Make their deaths painful."

Unfortunately- the history books will continuously
- be filled with falsities from the 21st Century.

Be it rye, barley, berries: whichever my glass carries
- will keep me content- if only for a brief moment.
These fermented cherries do cause the little fairies
- to speak, very, kindly to me, far as my eyes can see.
Could it be: thee- yeast has suddenly caused a cease
- in sanity- for me? Or is it that I've, simply, released
- my need for other people's nods and approvals?
Have I, merely, stopped caring what fellow pupils
- see and/or feel when they look or think t'ward me?