I, to mine eyes
Through to orchard's unafraid
Always my thoughts travel wide
And bless such fruit as may be made
Tumbling ever into, orchards bloom, and supple shade...

I, to mine eyes
Have yet to master my master's trade
My thoughts plotting, too far and wide
And mention not, so much left unmade
Unravelling my orchard's bloom, in a tearful fade...

I, to mine eyes
Am a pressed man, with so much yet to say
So, I claim these thoughts, too savvy tried
With humility, I forfeit this orchard, soft and stayed
And march a steady pace, into this soft parade...

I, to mine eyes
Have climbed my Everest, affected the deepest caves
Carved my thoughts a golden, enticing, compromise
Searched for Eldorado, and returned unscathed
Now, I march into my orchard's bloom, quite, unafraid...

In times of discontent
Some pious tears a closing eye requires
The soft quiet of near repent
Escapes the mind of worldly desires
As threats of pain & ruin bring compromise

Thrown together in thorny wind
Thoughts run south into orange hellfire
Where carnivorous lairs spawn subtle sin
Masked in righteous, godly, attire
Until the self can no longer recognize

So slyly can a mind be swayed
Treading broken trails of life's decisions
Those slippery slopes of daily choices made
Manifesting as good & evil subdivisions
Where confusion urges the mind to self-despise

A difficult twist this thing called life
The supreme energy moving every direction
Some creator has taught us to look inside
For this is the shelter of supreme connection
The kinetic kiln where all love is mobilized

On shores of constants
In times of need
Crowd the huddled masses
Nurture, the dying seed

Come young men of righteous anger, to battlements
Their fathers before them supplanted and torn
Having instilled their desire to burn the world
They release, a primal scream of poetic rhetoric

On shores of constants
In times of need
Crowd the huddled masses
Hints at, the dying seed

This world a grievous melting *** of greed and adulation
With corruption a constant in every hall of power
With money at the heart of near all contemplation
This world, as Atlantis, deserves to be submerged

On shores of constants
In times of great need
Crowd the huddled masses
Grows, the dying seed

There shall come a moment crucial to the very fabric of humanity
When technology threatens to remove the 'God Gene' from man
One final touch-of-a-button, one infinitesimal testimony
That once-and-for-all defines, the uniqueness of man

On shores of constants,
In times of great need,
Crowd, the huddled masses
Shines, the dying seed...

I wish to sleep a long dark sleep
Where there has never been
Such a silence, or epic shyness
Being haunted by my every sin
Oh great creator, what is it in my nature
So depraved and deathly forlorn
That haunts my twisted sleep, where I fight to keep
That baby-smell with which I was born...…

I long to dream a most decrepit dream
In deaths most unrestful rest
Whose sinful fall at my soul does gnaw
Into this most troubled trespass
Where man's duality is ripped at the seams
And *** is woven into its twist
Where innate ideas on procreation
Pains my most selfish aching
And my bid for God's congress....bleeds

I wish to witness, the light that shines on the other side
Where life, in its truth, is the dream
Where blood is quantum love and tangerine doves
Paint nothing as it seems
Where we are understanding and the creator the planning
So I can finally find that Big Sleep
Filled with blissfulness and end emptied of painfulness
Where all is precisely as it should be
And so,
With no need to cry, I wrap myself up
Ever-so comfortably
Inside,
My time,
To die...

Dartanion2

It is within the harmony between man
And nature
Where beauty is perfumed
And glitters
As a twinkle
Where the frolicking of faeries
Waits as a flicker
Between morning's delight
And the momentary perception
Of the kindly shawl
Riding the supple shoulders
Of night's protection
Warming
The ever morphing
Energy of life
And the seeds planted
To the benefit of men
Like Siddhartha
And his enlightenment
Revealing
In each season of the year
It's own
Particular form of beauty
An image never seen
But for that fleeting moment
When the penetrating eye
Is most discerning
And supported by the harmony
So inspired
Within this most delicate ballet
Where lady bugs play
And the gentle touch
Of God's sweet breath
Comes alive...