A fly  died in my bath today ,
a butterfly on the stairs
I know of not how or why ,
they had to die ,
O mournful s pity cry .
For  that what was flying about and knew that it must die, for it
in water it found not wings that it might fly ?
For  it was such a dainty pritty thing ,
O mournful pity’s cry !

Then as for the butterfly that fluttered for a time ,
that it held its wings in valor
to never give up the fight .
For I know not why ,
it even chose to die,
that I should weep for a butterfly ?


Was  it the stairwell  that gave it  it’s bars ,?
It’s lack of light
and pouted air ?

to what even brought it here ?
Or why it felt it had to die ?
O mournful pity’s cry .


It is these things that trouble me most ,
that of all of Gods creation he might boast ,
that he God made such fastidious  things as these .
That  flies might  scavage and feast on rotting flesh ,
that the butterfly and flower should dare with paint
and brush colour Gods earth with love for us .

That one should be so hated ,
the other loved beyond belief ,
yet both had their part to play ,
‘ that a fly might even cry ,
for the loss of its lover as it was passing by ,
that it should find no other,
then die .

I helped you up the stairs,
to show you what I had done .
To show you what I thought of you ,
how beautiful you had become .

And though we have such a short time together ,
I thought I should let it be known ,
how much you mean to me in what I might call ,
you’re new home .  

You see I took every living part  from you for us to admire in a jar !
to write in verse in poetry for the world to see ,
exactly who you are ?

You’re eyes are like sapphires they light up the stars ,

You’re lungs help you run into my arms ,
beating blood to you’re heart ,
where ever you are .

And if Flavorus ever thought of you ,
In sonnets he would write .

For you’re spine is tall and strong and true ,
tells me the truth even when I don’t listen to.
You .

And for all you’re faults I have left them in a jar ,
Just to remind me. of who you are .

As for you’re heart my beloved friend ,
It somehow beats faster when I touch your face ,
and beats faster still when your arms I embrace .

And slowly we walk down the stairs ,
the doors slammed shut ,
we are the last ones to leave .
The roof tops are red ,
there is love in you’re eyes ,
for tomorrow awaits,
with a tear in you’re eye
for now you are dying ,
what have I done ?
For now you lay befor3 me
to what have I become ?
And O the blood of millions is now set before the sun ,
to atone for many,
the monster I have become.

you know i love you dearly
you know my love is true
always in my heart a candle burns for you.

you are there beside me in everything i do
i love nothing more than being there with you
i will love you always forever and a day
and hope the love i have for you will never go away.

just being there with you is all i want do
give my heart and soul and share it all with you

There once was a lonely angel who. lived on  a rock far away ,
for once he led Gods heavenly chorus in eternal song .

He once became proud ,
thought himself better than the rest ,
and once he thought to himself he knew what was best .

So he became jealous and planned his revolt .

That’s why he sits all alone ,
banished by God to sit on his own ,
to sit behind a rock !

Banished by him who sits on his thrown .

With nothing to do ,
he looks at Gods earth ,
all of Gods children just following the rules ,
and there was him thinking to himself
“ what fools “
here am I alone all by himself .
There weren’t even anything that crawled or swam or flew .
What was a lonely fallen angel to do?

Then one far off day ,
God called him to hell,
cast down to the fiery lake of solfa to dwell .

And so man was left on his planet of blue .
with just one naggin thought that wouldn’t go away ,
that still lingers to this day .
What if ?

I once had a wife who went down to the river to wash my clothes,
she dressed in red and had a funny shaped nose .
One day when i was still at home ,
she left with my washing to walk down to the brook ,
her red dress grew heavy so much she stumbled and fell ,
so  under she went as she sank like a stone .


The current was swift she knocked her head on a rock ,
and that was the last time I saw her pritty red frock !
She drowned that morning,
with the birds in full song ,
nothing else could be heard ,
she always said she wouldn’t be long .

The last time I saw her she nearly choked by the fire ,
she always complained those flames are getting higher .

And now I need to build a chimney now won’t that be grand .
Our good king hath decreed  it’s the law of the land .
But at least I won’t get syphilis now that she is dead ,
and at last I can sleep alone in my four poster bed .

For tomorrow I shall rise and leave for the door ,
and draw some cold water something I’d  never done before .
Down to the river where my woman died ,
and if I die with her at least I shall be by her side .

Hope that eternal flame,
that was built so men could  see,
a first bud after winters rain .,
and blossoms returning to the trees .

For when we close our eyes when deaths daughter calls near ,
‘‘Tis it not angels song is all I hear ?

Awake awake O morning cloud ,
that passes hills and seas and knows no bounds ,
then like I without a faint heart will run like a deer that
Leaps and bounds ,
through fields and meadows ,
springs and streams .

And if my hope is dashed as driftwood moves upon the sea ,
I shall cling to that driftwood untill I see ,
The light of Portus in front of me.
Be it not man that we should trust ,
could ever shine such light in hope of us ?
when evening clouds are turned to night ,
at least we shall gaze on such a shimmering light.