She sits on a piano bench,
in the basement of a church,
the church she once graduated in,
with the boy who has died,
died the day before,
much after going to school,
with the girl who now sits on a piano bench,
in the basement of a church,
the church she once graduated in.

Reality does not hit her at first,
but four days later it assails,
crushing her skull and collapsing her lungs.

She stands holding a candle,
holding a candle in a pew,
in the church she once graduated in,
at the funeral of a boy who she graduated with,
remembering him in a blue dress shirt,
and glasses, with a round face
and tears stream from her eyes
and she feels the weight,
of a life lost too soon.

One day
When my hair is graying, face is creasing
My husband will be at work
His apathy slowly increasing
And making him a rude ****.
My kids will be at school being fed empty knowledge
Preparing for college
And the TV set will be blaring
I won't be caring
About the static noise filling the beige room,
The news guy speaking of terror and gloom
A blue glare will reflect on the brown stained couch
On which I will be sitting, with a woebegone and wistful slouch
And my brain will drift, slowly searching memory files
Going back for years and endless miles
And I will remember you,
The boy I once knew,
As the boy I never kissed
My eyes will mist
And maybe I'll cry
And give a shaky sigh
For so many reasons, and that lost kiss will merely be one

You are that happy memory
That lingers in my head
Us two at the ocean
Intertwined in the bed

But sadly now I toss and turn
Searching through the sheets
For a love we once had
Sorrow took it and reaped

Merely a color delusion. Usually with shady conclusion.
Each lighter war starts and ends with tons of confusion.
The accusations start flying. One casts the blame, the others left denying.
However I pass most of this guilt onto BIC, who does most of the supplying.

It's merely harmless bicker. Each is only defending their  own flicker.
Lay them all on the table so we can end this all much quicker.

A flammable rainbow  is layed out. This will help eliminate doubt.
And isn't that really what most lighter wars are about.
Here the truth is exposed. Leaving all unopposed.
Once we sort through the evidence the case can be closed.
What makes this game so fun. Maybe you came with one.
But when you empty out your pockets you now have none.

Or maybe today was your lucky day. Things seemed to be going your way.
No need to worry, that is just how you play.

They all look the same. They all carry flame.
Your only intention was to borrow it yet somehow yours it became.

But your not a lighter thief. You'd prefer the label fire cheif.
Most are unaware they stole it and hand it back in disbelief.

What makes it so easy
to write personal works
from the heart,
the soul,
the inner workings of my mind
that then you, strangers,
read at your own will,
like, and comment?
Things I cannot even bring myself
to admit to those closest to me
or even yours truly.
The fact baffles me each time
I start typing.

Grandiose and lofty it may seem
Nevertheless it’s a thought that captures
A dream I consider supreme
It triggers a spontaneous feeling of rapture
Whenever it crosses my mind.
It’s that a lawless society is an empowered society
The premise being that life is kind
Lending credence to society imposed piety.
As succinct as it is,
It sums up my simple idiosyncrasy as me
It’ll be a paradigm shift that’ll put my mind at ease
And fill my heart with glee.

The existing realities are grim        
         Stupefying for lack of a better word.

Andy Bryn.