This society knows your name,
Bits and syllables, all the same
The sound is coarse but sweet, of course
So convince us of your fame

Bang the silver rivet fair,
Spike the spigot through the air
Catch a dream and set the theme,
To ****** their rosy, rolling glare

You can be a memory,
Advance to take the cavalry,
For turnabouts and troubled doubts,
This rest cannot be shaken,
By a burning moment's fantasy

Feeble minds,
Think feeble things,
Feeble brides,
Wear feeble rings,
When sleeping next to Wexford wakes you,
What will your devotion bring?

The bull has come to terms with death,
So He sings a solemn cry,
His body slips beneath the waves,
So long and goodbye

The crane has urged again His needs,
Among them dreams to fly,
Never will His wings reach,
So long and goodbye

The frog is deep in meditation,
Feeding off the world's frustration,
He finds himself a wicked lie,
And belts it out to all Creation

They beg the sage,
"Oh, sage, give breath!"
He utters soft yet fast they run,
A simple phrase,
With simple fun,
"Seek a man of sound decision?
Find him first with perfect vision..."

Driving fast down Emma Lane,
With absent pause and ill refrain,
Your fingers numb and pull away,
Into the crowded streets you stray,
Before the moment strikes you down,
The blood now spills upon the ground

Spits and sputters,
Under breath, as he mutters,
"Something near the window shutters
let's me speak with all the others",
Another ghost would have a word,
Before his mind begins to flutter

Angel scraping flaking skin,
The peeling walls are closing in,
Take a dose of spinning sin,
Feel your bounty swell within

Approaching now its final plunge,
Absorbing all the excess grunge,
The merriment of vice expunged,
To hell on Earth, a final lunge,
Then calm...

Verbs condensed along a line,
Find punishment and joyous cries,
Escape the dialogue and shy,
Away from answers or replies

Digits form the web we see,
Commence to force the fragile code,
And sign away your only key

The habit forms and sticks like glue,
To brothers, sisters, friends and you,
Before you go away so soon,
Kiss the glow of neon blue

Pace the steady breathing sigh,
To open grids of numbers high,
On lists of people known to lie,
Or let the gentleness be held,
To standards seen beyond the sky

Call them later,
Call them please,
Set their little minds at ease,
Then come to your creator,
We've seen the ways you shape the world,
We need you, operator

With every toil of the bell,

Add a layer to the shell,

Complex, yet thoughtfully dispelled,

By wonderment and tales to tell!


A writer, strong, will know her craft,

A mathematician pens her graph,

But smiles glow and speak beyond,

The many ways you make me laugh


You show me now that love is pink,

Slowly letting shackles sink,

You reach beyond the world to think,

With heart and mind in equal sums,

Impart to all the missing link


Behind these walls of mental health,

You feel aghast at all to view,

That beauty surely rests with you,

So never let this dusty shelf,

Convince to you a lack of wealth,

Give to all upon the Earth a gift today,

Reveal yourself...

Dead trees and butterflies,
You have the heart to look me in the eyes,
Calling out for warmth from a melody of cries,
But there's nothing on the outside

Let me know when you hear a sound,
Crashing through the woods,
Nowhere to be found,
You'll know it when you feel it,
Time to come around,
Tell me who's the one with the ******* crown?

Stake your petty rhythms 'till their memories,
Throw your simple temper to the simple breeze,
Dance and prance away to put your mind at ease,
Cause I'll make sure that your enemies,
Are nothing save a moth or a pile of dead leaves

You'll let your guard down, still full of pride,
Then the men come knocking with nowhere to hide,
Tell your children, tell your friends,
That's it's alright,
That's when I'll know that there's nothing on the inside...

Despite your lack of flowing diction,
You seem to know of this affliction,
Rivaling the Roman fiction,
Tassets turn to your position

"I speak a name but give a story,
One to years I've spent away,
And one for years of future glory,
The walls of dust you once beheld,
Can now give way to pastures knelled,
By death and life and grief, a meld,
Of several pieces stitched and sown,
To teach to you, memento mori"

Once-stable souls now rest on thistles,
Leaders launch their pretty missiles,
Towards dens of daggers, stones and whistles,
The name we sought now has a face,
"A waxy, shiny, formless gristle"

This place cannot commune with plague,
If held to motives ever vague,
Your scriptures lined with pictures ample,
Bereft of science, truths or samples,
Though as the saying softly goes,
Glory be to leaders trampled...