I'd say the world turned gray
the moment your eyes closed.
As mine remain today.

I merely watched cartoons.
I had not yet supposed
their credits would roll soon.

But when father sat down,
and showed me your gray ghost.
I knew I'd rather drown.

A light had just been snuffed,
for death's not a great host...
he called you on your bluff.

We reached down to join you
clawed our way to the most
infantile state of blue.

But you knew we would live on.
In our homes with blankets tucked.
Yet I'm merely carrion.
My emotions have been ******.

Maybe he really was just a hipster,
but man look into that dream filled sky.
We all know how the story ends,
with a shovel in the ground.
But he sees the middle.
This tale's rise and fall.
Quite intriguing.
That he can
really
see.

Though a mother goose may lay a dun egg,
All you do, and all you are is the sun.
Rise now, continue your art, I do beg.
A trophy of grandeur, you are the one.

Touch another heart, you have seen this love.
Reach under the grove and pick the fresh grapes.
Ascending further, your grace unyielding
can even outlast the graceful young dove.
You are the angel, art you are wielding

Yes, the others may look to the south sea,
Onto which they dream only of the north.
Unto you, true artist, your beauty's free.

Although it may seem I write this in fear,
Reviewing each statement, meter by line.
Earth has once said, you reach beyond your years.

At the close of this poem we do reach.
Man amongst man swallowed by your beauty,
and the ends of these rhymes holds much cruelty.
Zealots reach up, and begin their sweet preach.
I realize now that it is far too late.
Not I, nor he, nor she can end this pain.
Go to your love, embrace him, run to fate.

Looking at those lantern eyes,
surrounded by charcoal masks.
With your tale you do defy.
Catching you's no easy task.


Kiss the shotgun with your lips
Enough now, you are no more.
The moon has reached its eclipse
and your life I do abhor.

I look into this never-ending sun
Left, right, right, left, the score climbing higher.
Then, suddenly the sun ends its cold fun,
and we look at our life it seems so dire.

Days and weeks slaughtered by the LED.
No love life, no friends, no freedom.
Just a window, what the screen lets me see.
I live in a poorly crafted kingdom.

Look before you, at this husk of a man.
He had such potential, he had a plan.