the poem of the forest is rustled by the tree the whale tones the song of the sea the eagle refrains the hymn of the sky but the vulture's verse is silence when you die so make your verse with pen or voice before old buzzard makes his choice
You make me want to spend Tease my inner beast Hold you down, restraining Biting flesh for feast You conjure up my feelings To escape; release All my inmost inhibitions Until I find some peace And realize all life’s secrets That put my mind at ease
A paintbrush and a canvas Is where my passion lies Watching for a reaction Through other peoples eyes To reaffirm my love of art A condition I embrace To cultivate my budding gift And the dream that I must chase