I once saw a bird of paradise. that was  as wild as the sea ,
spreading out
her wings towards you and me .
Oceans as wild as an eagle who kills ,
who Stole all her eggs
and took all of her things .


Yet her heart is as wild as the seas she adores ,
Like  spring has its time before the courts of the Lord .
So delicate and fragile ,
sometimes as rugged as the sea ,
yet always patient,
and kind as can be .

And if love can bear all. these  things ,
like losing a Son ,
to bury a red rose ,
before the rain and the sun ,
and then
To nourish that soil with the bones of the dead ,
So that red rose might blossom and grow in its bed .

Then let death have its glory ,
It’s herses and horses ,
Flowers and wreaths ,
as man is laid to rest ,by the
words of a priest .  

So then let God be our judge,
Our attorney ,our friend
as five stones are enough
to lay to rest the thoughts in our heads .
and all the things that we have said .
Beit Our words and our deeds ,
Our friends we betrayed,
all will be seasoned with herbs ,
and the leaves ,
and what is left will be gathered into one ,
and burnt under the sun .

And love in the end beit a stone or a cross ,
a flower will grow out from its weeds ,
to remember the lost .

Our world is moving further away ,.
Two worlds that once became one .
and here we are on two fluffy clouds ,
drifting further from the sun .

letting go of our silver strings
set before the stars .
Set  before an ink well ,
writing poetry for one .

And then we saw two stars burn out ,
and die,
before our very eyes ,
two lost galaxies lost in time .
And then before a rising sun,
form magestically into one .

If love could fly on silver wings ,
pull fluffy hearts on silver strings

And no dark black clouds could shooo them away ,
and we could live on marshmallow hills ,
sprout silver wings ,
and fly away .

But there is a cold bitter wind in September ,
and the green turns to yellow in the trees ,
for that is when the harvester comes ,
to blow away the leaves .

And you and I won’t matter ,
at least that is what you said ,
but There is a cold wind in September ,
and  it’s freezing in our bed .

Only the Angels stole our wings
from us when we
we’re flying high ,
and those marshmallow hills now seem far away in the sky .
and our silver strings got caught up in our Mandalay ,
and now we have been   left  , strung up    in  the   clouds .

Now here we are ,
all caught up in strings ,
with fluffy hearts ,
and   no diamond rings ,
waiting for the stars to shine ,
Suspended in love ,
forgotten  in time .

A spider now hangs from my wall ,
it bears no malice to me at all .
And if I were to ask if why it was here ?
It would simply reply ,
“:I’m just hanging there “:

But what about that web .? Said i ,
The spider didn’t have a reply .

But later on I spoke to a fly who was watching me eat my lunch ,
from the corner of his eye .

Now i was afraid to ask ,
for nothing seems to ever last .
So I asked the window with the creaky catch ,
was the spider that crawled inside have a ***** look ?.
or was the fly just passing by ?

So when the fly had stopped buzzing about ,
It ate my lunch

and spat it out ,
Then it It turned its attention to the spider on my wall ,
“ won’t you come to my web and we will have a ball ?
“ it said .
which was unusual to say the least for spiders can’t speak ,
or at least that’s what I used to think ?

But then I saw  a startling sight ,
that love really is bite at first sight !

On a Chariot she rides
With love and beauty by her side ,
Sworn to rid this world of sin ,
so love and beauty might enter in .

Devout in her glorious deeds ,
though evil stands ,before her,  ride . ,with sharped claw,
she comes face to face before ,their gods ,of war .
Of those who pedal bigotry  and hate ,
for even they will be slain ,
by the nostrils of Bodicas horses and fiery Maine



For she who rides with beauty and love ,
fights   In valour
for the silver glove .
and with the heart of a sufferget. that is sure .
For every woman who feels oppressed .
To rid this world from It’s dark nights or vice ,
and ****** .
Never again to be afraid to walk the streets at night
through twilight dances in the gas fire light .



And so with lances that glisten and torches that burn
to oust what man once called his slave .
For her Lance is called justice ,
and from her torch integrity burns for
many who are forced to work in chains .
to rue the errors of their ways .

Never again able to read or write ,

wear beautiful garments paraded in their most beautiful light .
So please don’t fear ,
thou deaths claw may soon come swiftly to knock at youre door

For she still rides in glory,
Once ,
and ever more .

A swollow died ,
but as it did it began to fly
for a thousand wings now lay upon its breast .
And upon that breast lay   It’s  head ,
and upon that head ,
a golden crown.,

And upon that crown of burning fire ,
Plumes of smoke were lifted higher .

And then from. that shrill from that birds beak ,
came unspeakable anguish that languished deep .
For death was sprinkled everywhere.
In falling ashes that lit up the sky ,
came winds as fierce as the swallows eye ,
More deadly were the winds that blew ,
that fanned the flames from that swallows crown .

And so life can never be the same ,
as what man uttered to clear his name .
Of all his fossil fuels he lights that burn carbon
into this burning night .
With all the coals that forever burn
Poisious gas that choke and wheeze ,
that brings the child upon her knees ..

A swollow dies his wings are singed ,
It still sings a song no one can sing .
But if they could what would we say ?
for another Forest has. Been burnt today .

My  grave is where I dig each night ,
above me hangs one gas. fire light

But if love was ever meant to be ,
It wouldn’t be for the likes of you and me
and when i think of what i once owned ,
was nothing but a butterfly.

And if that butterfly had wings ,  in all my hopes ,
fears and dreams .

And if those dreams turned to flowers,
that wither and die ,
but still last for hours,
and as those hours pass ,
at the bottom of a
hour glass .

And if those hours turned into days ,
perhaps then that might save me from this grave ?

But days were never meant to last ,
and one day they will become a thing of the past .
And so in my digging I came across a fly ,

and that fly was trapped by a  web ,
and in that web a spider lay which was eaten by
a bird in May,
and the birds then flapped their tiny  wings
and got eaten by a cat who did naughty things ,
Who scratched the dog
who chased the cat that ran around and around
my neighbors flat .

And so it began as if for days ,
The never ending ceaseless din of praise .
that in this world nothing ever wins ,
and all must one day be taken up ,
beyond this grave ,
Or  get swollowed up,
by a giant whale
And so , as moths gather around a fire ,
and a  fisherman mends his nets ,
catching fish ,
only to save them from an open fire .