we* try to guide *you through some you's

(how you are, who you are, why you are)

we are there with you
hunting for an epiphany

(which rarely comes)

if we fail with reflective notions
we have some magic potions

(though)

you won't be painting like Picasso
once our chemistry does its trick  

(perhaps)

a line from a classic flick,
or a paragraph from your favorite book,
would be better feeding for the soul, than
talking time spent on our couch, with us
unraveling your psychic ouch

The silence of her
words play a heavenly song
like stars in the sky

Many sing of Shakespeare or of Keats.
I look to a Scottish lad for my treats.
He was of Irish descent,
and but for friends he would have lived in a tent.

From weaver he rose to a poet of renown,
but his contemporaries treated him as a clown.
Employed to give recitations of his masterpieces,
such as the famous 'Tay Bridge Disaster' he was a poet
of an entirely different species.

Spurning fashionable poetic metaphor and scans,
his simple language amused his many fans.
Alas he died in poverty. Yes he was skint,
but unlike many others of his time,
his poetry's still in print.

An unwelcome shock to see them again,
their faces no longer a part of the place.
His memory oiled by how things were
back then, in nineteen hundred and when?

Existence now seems full of persistent
memories, though there are false ones too.
Does he rely to much on them for what to do?
When people tell him words that chime,
should he so readily comply?

Should he trust himself to think things true?
Use his knowledge or review his ideas?
Retry those memories beyond a reasonable doubt,
seek out the false ones, chuck them out?

He was more than 007 to me
There are many movies and TV one could see
I remember him in playing “THE SAINT”
It was a TV series
I would watch every Saturday afternoon
Yet you would often see him with a gun
TV romance would find him and ladies in the sun
Fights with fist
Then sometimes a flip of the script being a different twist
Yes, you would find Roger Moore in a lady kiss
However, Roger Moore would sometimes get beat that no one could ever miss
However, it takes talent for one to act
Well Roger Moore is that fact
He was a good British Actor
It was his way with words being the factor
Dramatics with emotion
Hear, but you would understand
Action was always in demand
Roger Moore being one of the finest Actors in the land
The Saint has gone to Heaven
Ability in having Faith
The Saint being risen up
Applause describes Moore
It was pure theatrical for sure.

Melody echoes---------
Balloon bursts and cries join them
With bodies fear blows