"Apple trees with broken branches still stand strong."
I believe this is true; please correct me, if I'm wrong.
Axe weildin man thinks it may bear fruit o' nutrition.
To let it grow to fruition- or not: t'is a grand decision.
With precision, man with an axe allows it to stand.
He thinks, "I mustn't be impatient- nor demand-
fruit from this tree. I must let it be. I must wait n' see
just exactly how much this ole' apple tree blesses me."

" - we may never find ourselves joyful."

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.

They say I may
have a substance dependency,
I believe they're wrong, my friends!
  You see:
'P. Crowley' is simply a figment
  of my innermost imagination.
  And he writes so much more diligent
-ly when my mind is in elevation,
  puffing upon pipes.. rather high!
Why, in the hell, would I-
push halt to his inspiration?
  --
Not worrying about when he will die,
he cracks a cold beer.
Isn't it national beer day?
Cheers.
  --
Oh, how I wish the Wednesday Woes
would whisper (Not yell!) & pass.
All I wish to do, Lord only knows,
is lie motionless in the Thursday grass.

If you're feeling blue:
know it's a pretty colour;
it'll get you through.

Structures will tumble, my dear,
far sooner than later.
Just know that, even then
I will still be here:
  admiring you from afar,
  wishing upon every star,
  hoping your eyes will make
   their way -
   my way.

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.

Basically- blackbirds' beaks peck,
periodically, away at my mind.
An empty space above my neck:
A brain deeply devoured
that- yet- bears no pain.
Into my dungeon I cower:
a desperate attempt to avoid
attacks on my mind any furthermore.
Panic attacks have my chest sore.

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.

A ballet of branches upon towering trees,
reaching (ever so) tall, above his head:
are mirroring his thoughts with ease
on this (ever so) dastardly dreary day.

"Oh, Creator! Come strike me dead!
I am ever so afraid, of what I wish to say:
t'whom the woman I dream of before
- and after I lie and wake in bed."

To be rejected by his dream queen
is, surely, his soul's damnation!

"Maybe-deep in my dungeon, I should stay
and get ever so high in euphoric elation-
yes! dragons in my kitchen, I should slay!
God! Do I wish to see her face?!"(Yes!)

It may be his last chance to be blessed-
by all of the beauty that she beholds:
within her body, brain and being.
He's feeling fairly stressed
because he doesn't fit most social molds-
but his wish: her and he,
t'wards the western sun, fleeing.

He's going to grab the rope of his dream
(Yes!)
and, to her, it won't seem- like much;
(No!)
what she can't see, is the rush-ed blood,
(Oh!)
so warm, circulating amidst his heart.

Oh, how this could be the start-
of a drastic change in outlook- view!

If only he had the nuts, to ask out you!

But alas -
it's all been bookmarked before:
in the scribblers of scribes,
struggling with the serveral
aspects of their lives.

My cigarette smells of waffles and syrup..
and I cannot pinpoint- precisely- why.

Wow! Has it ever been such a long-
period of time since
I've tasted a pastry or pie?
As of late, I've just consumed fermented rye.

I ponder, my mind begins to stir up,
  thinking up some sort of reasoning:
  an explanation for the subtle scent.

"Dear, cigarette company;
    have you been seasoning
    your smokes with some sort of awful,
    syrup and waffle, flavoring?
   If you have, I've not been favoring-
    the taste in my lungs."

I cannot catch the correct words
- to accurately convey my feelings
- so instead it comes out in bursts
- and, thus, I lie awake most evenings.
I lie awake thinking: "where it all went wrong,"
-and similar things- like, "where do I belong?"
However, I never seem to find an answer;
- or maybe I block it out because I prefer
- to remain a willfully ignorant & naive Monsieur.

Your love was a cigarette:
burning bright for me after I struck a match.
I deprived myself of air,
to enjoy every drag.
Alas, cigarettes don't last long..
& now that you are gone..
I sit here, in a clouded room:
it's what remains of us.
Toxic lungs and a foggy mind!
Oh, cigarette lover,
how I wanted to make you mine!
Though: it seems what you had for me
was lust.
In your short-lived love, I put my trust.

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!

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!

Sweet Phillip, estranged brother o' mine;
what was it that drew you to a life of crime?
A half decade had came and gone-
since you hadn't reeked o' wine.

"My brother, what is wrong?"
I should've asked;
but- you hid so well behind that mask..
You hid those crying eyes-
and that, alone, led to your demise.

And now, sweet brother o' mine,
as I stand over your tomb- I realize:
there is no more time for you, - barely I,
to make new friends
or- amends with ole' ones.

We, two, have been bound to be murdered
since the, very, moment we left the womb.

It looks, as though, they got to you first,
and they left the ground blue.
Surely- it confused them
when they shot through-
your head and didn't see any red.  

What lies ahead?
How can the world be so mean?
An angel has fallen, down, dead-
unto the Muddy Waters
beneath the trees a-green.

The Death of Phillip Crowley in 20-16-
left dew in the eyes of the Faery Queen.
She will miss how his eyes did gleam
She will miss how his mind did dream.
She will miss him- and so will I.
            (sigh)

Good bye, my brother-
may we see one another,
another day..
maybe.

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?

All the vile old men,
spitting fire at their peers,
are: (just) child poets
who've lost their pen,
over all (of) their miles and years.

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.

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.

One princess has headed west;
the other shall flee east.
&- of me, all that'll be left:
is a loveless, lonely beast.

I wish them both the best
before sipping upon distilled yeast
& hops. Then- I, drunkenly, flop
into my big, empty nest,
in an attempt to rest-
 this mind, so distressed .

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.

Oh!

How I wish I could silence
these demons in my head!

These demons pray on violence-
& I think they wish to see me dead!

(Oh!)
No!

Each and every
minor detail is magnificent
about this woman.

Simply said, she's
completely captivating.

I attempt to avoid aiming my eyes at her
but it's useless- unfortunately.

She possesses the ability to ******
any and all males, if she so pleased.

She is a queen,
& - oh - what I would do,
to be a peasant in her empire!

What you want from life...
you don't know.
You tell me,
"We'll cross that bridge
  when the we meet the stream below."

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.

Nothing that I could, ever, write
- will change thee unfortunate plight
- of our dreary, controlled existence.
You see? No matter how hard the resistance:
- the elite's control is persistent and consistent.
A better future, for us peasants, is non-existent;
- & all of our children will, surely, be enslaved
- regardless of the way that we have behaved.
The elites will use everything against us
- simply to advance their gruesome agenda
- involving full control of the Earth and people;
- in massive poverty, we will all be equal.
If we're not "peaceful", we'll meet lethal
- forces- on this lovely Winter solstice.

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.

" Doctor, doctor..
My heart has bled, bountifully,
with the deep & dreaded desire!
This boy's been bustling over the girl-
who- on instagram- posts pictures of fire.
There's too much energy- flowing
through the wires- of my mind
when I think of that brunette beauty.
She's smoother than a 12 year Brandy..
It's honestly not that hard to understand,
- you see?
I've admired this woman
since I was thirteen.
I remember walking her home,
half a dozen years ago- on my birthday.
Easy going chit chat-
mind full of riff raff-
trying not to look like an aśs-
cause I always did had a mass-
ive crush on this cup of Brandy.
We were from such different worlds,
Hell, we still are. 
I wish I would've stayed working
at that ****** little bar,
I would have - had I known she was
lurking amongst the crowd-
with a resume.
I'm younger than her; touché.
But- I've learned a lot since the day-
that she and her friends pulled me
a case of beer- on my birthday.

& I'd love the opportunity
to show her the growth;
to make her feel better
than she does-  most days, currently. "

"I, frequently, find myself ponder-
ing: what it is other people are wonder-
ing, or if they have began wander-
ing from their, once, true path in life,"

he laughed, while taking a bath,
down by the Boulder.

"&: when, precisely, did it happen?!
Yes! It is true that I have spent 
many, magnificent, moons squander-
ing the wealth of my place in this space..
I consume certain substances that others
find distasteful. Yet: within the maunder-
ing, I find a very subtle peace; know-
ing that we will all, inevitably, be go-
ing to find solace in the final slumber.

Nothing we do is flawless.

   -

Maybe once we're all gone:
may the 'livestock, produce, and lumber'
florish, fully, once again."

he was bowed next to the Boulder,
coughing on a cigarette of cannabis,
when he caught the crouched cougars eye.

As the joint, jittery, smolder -ed,
his mind was left in blurred bliss.

Just then: began to fly, forward - 
the chiseled cougar.

Both my body and my mind have been grind-
- ing away with each, and every, passing day.
I feel, as though, I oughta go to find
- some lonesome mudhole within which to lay.
I haven't replied to my girl in four days...
- and when I do: I know not what to say.
"Hey- I'm sorry that I haven't been around.
The woes, in my mind, have piled to a mound;
- it's hard for me to stand it anymore.
Yes- my mind has become, so very, sore-
- from all o' the over sighted thinking.
Yes- the heart, in this chest, it is sinking-
- when I think of the current state of Earth.
I'm more aware & clear than upon birth-
- but, I must ask: with the bitterness brought-  
- What is the worth?"

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?

As the trees do sprout from the soil,
small golden hairs broke through his face.
He must become a man,
in a world so turmoil.
If there is one thing
he would ask of the human race..
it would be
if everyone could, kindly, slow their pace.
Have Some Pat-
  ience.

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

May I assist you-
or is it me who needs help?
Such a faint blue:
tis' how I've, lately, felt.
However, it's a pretty colour;
so I can't, and won't, complain.
I won't allow the sorrow to smother-
me (nor let my soul be drain-ed).
For: I know it will all work out-
so there's no use in crying or pout-
ing about things that may never happen.

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.

I've ceased speaking to, mankind, my own species.
For: all o' the mischief within all o' these bodies
- has left me, here, pondering those ole' birch trees
- and about how they are where I, really, ought to be;
- far away from my species and from modern society.
"I really have to go, folks; the clock is getting near
- time I have a date with roaming white-tailed deer
- and raccoons! Yes; the time is coming, ever, so soon
- and I wouldn't wish to keep these creatures waiting..
- not even for one single moon. I won't see you soon
- and I hope that you'll all, completely, understand
- because I've become enthralled in a wild woodland:
- where no man has ever known as his home,
- where the unburdened buffalo used to roam;
- that is where I will build my beautiful home
- & all I'll have to worry about: snoopy, little drones."

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

I believe it's, typically,
about two stout deep
when the thoughts of my queen creep-
into the vibrant spotlight of my mind.
These internal gears begin to grind;
this mind, slips my grip... I begin to lose.
Thus, & as such...
I continue sipping brews,
with such high amounts
of ethanol & yeast-,
for- you see- the love that I do love
lays her beautiful mind
about one hundred kilo-'s nor'east.

"I apologize, baby brother, for my voice waking you;
- but it seems, to me, there are laws to be breaking to-
- night. We need no sleep under the blue moon's rays!
My brother, do you understand what it is that I say?
                                   --
Get up, Giddy! There are copper coins for the taking
- and, simple, fragile windows to be breaking:
- in order to get in, and off, with what we deserve.
Are you in, baby brethren; have you heard-
- my plea for a partner? I know a home on Third - avenue that would be an easy target for me and you.
Within its windows, abundant rubies: I have view-
- ed those precious red gems with my own two-
- eyes. I think it would be, rather, quite wise
- to break into that house while all the lights-
- are out. The home owner can come back and pout
- but you and I will already be over the mount-
- ain range- with those jewels in our hands!
Don't you understand? I have a fool proof plan!
Aegidius, my brother, won't you be the man-
- to come give me a hand? I will not demand;
- I just hoped I could count on you.
- Your worried face has me quite blue!"

"But- Phillip! What if the tenants are still up;
- what if they possess muskets and gunpowder?
I cannot come; I guess I just sup-
- pose I fear that they could devour
- us before we make it through
- that window on Third avenue."

"Oh- Giddy! That's what's so pretty
- about my scheme; I already have,
- the last few nights, scouted out the scene!
It does appear to me- that they leave
- every night at nine thirty-three
- and their carriage leaves the city!"

"I am not sure, Phil; if anything goes wrong:
- our lives are a pretty hefty bill- to pay..
All because we wanted to get away:
- out over that vast mountain range
- with bright, shiny red jewels in hand!
Don't you understand? Even if we gauge-
- the scenario right and escape, how long-
- will we end up on the run from men with guns?
I cannot join you, Phillip- dear brother o' mine.
I hope you think twice before making up your mind;
- for: it would hurt me to see something happen
- to you. Should you go: I pray not to hear snappin'
- of muskets firing fatal shots on Third avenue.
Do what you have to, but, I can't join you."

"Aegidius, how has it come to this?
Shall I give you, now, one last kiss?
For: after this evening, I may not ever return;
- the devil may grab me and I may burn- away.
Down there with Lucifer, I'll be forced to stay!
It's okay! Don't cry, Giddy; if I have any success:
I'll hide you a few rubies
- under that ole' tree on the mountain out west-
- of Eldorado."

With that: Phillip threw on a dark cloak and turned.
Aegidius left out a plea of his own, "Don't go, Phil."
Phillip looked back, grinned, and left- still.
You see? Phil needed to acquire his thrills;
- after that night, though,
- he never again smashed in any windowsills.

My dearest girl, wipe those weeping eyes o' yours;
surely, you must know: everyone cries and feels sore
- sometimes; it makes us appreciate the sunshine.
My sweet girl, don't simply resort to the red wine
- in an attempt to ease your, oh so, numb mind.
We may never be able to rewind; this is true.
All I can hope for is a beautiful future for you.
If I could be a part of it, I would really love;
but- if not, I know we've got people up above
- watching down over each and every one of us.
So if you're ever wondering if it gets better:
- know, in your heart, that it does.

She was negative on the test-
and, though part of me was depressed,
I knew- deep down- it was for the best.
I nearly caused such a disastrous mess
and now I feel slightly less- stressed.
Now she can move on- and make progress
- without me around - to drag her down.

Electronics fly with their intrusive little eyes;
- they are the totalitarian government's spies:
- they're the Orwellian technology which I despise.
I, desperately, beg of you: not to believe all their lies
- when they say that they need eyes in the skies
- to ensure the safety & wellbeing of you and I.

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.

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.

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

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.

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!

My eyes are black:
because sleep, often, defeats me
in the brutal Battle of My Bed.

The art of counting sheep
is one that- this head has not mastered.

So, as such, the damp tobacc-
o- keeps my lungs looking,
dreadfully, similar to my eyes.

The alcohol that keeps me plastered
is withering away my liver.
& death, one day, shall be delivered-
unto me.