I wish the blur of brightened days
Would stop and let me smell the flowers
But dragged away and forced to rush
The Human race sees nothing.

Our race, our race
We rush around
A flowing, endless rush of Us
Just us, just us,
We see nothing else
And no one stops to smell the flowers
So here I am, caught in the race,
Wishing I could stop a second
But if I did, I'd lose the herd,
And take up my life with the one that follows.
But still, at least, I could stop
Stop and stoop and smell the flowers
Sit and sing to cloudless skies
And watch the herds go flashing by.

We're a vein the runs throughout the Earth
That clots to watch the horrors of life.
But only those that affect us
Because we see nothing.
Nothing, nothing
Is what is left
Once our rush has rushed around
And if we could only stop,
Stop and smell the flowers
Regardless of the herd
Maybe, maybe
**It will get better.

A name.                         A calling.
A way of life. A boom of   thunder after lightning.
A lost piece of ash drifting over an open flame. A bottled
emotion in the sea of tears: love. It’s a time bomb, set by two
people. It’s a deadly poison, slipped into each other’s
drinks. It’s an oasis in the dry, dry, desert. It’s a feast
for the famished people. It’s the blood in your
veins and the tears in your eyes. It’s a
burning flame. It’s a flash of
lightning. A way of life.
A calling. A name.
*love.

I bid thee welcome to the masquerade!
T’is a place in which we dance circles around each other,
Dawning a facade.
We dodge, turn, and promenade
All to elude one another
All to trick the other into fraud.
And yet, we still dance.

Fanciful gowns, embroidered in gold!
Shined shoes and a powered nose,
Hidden by thy mask.
Thy game is defunct and old
T’is all concealed by magnificent clothes!
Do not scrape the skin, but in its glow thy must bask.
Be thy wary not to trip on thy skirts.

Secret rendezvous down a dark rue!
A place where a white lie springs
Onto thy heart’s soft flesh - slashed.
"I love you!"
A heart beat faster than the hummingbird's wings.
"Nah, good woman, t’was a feeling long surpassed."
A heart with no beat, imploded and crumbling.

I bid thee adieu from the masquerade!
T'was a place where we danced circles around each other,
And shall closet our facade.
We have dodged, turned, and walked our promenade
All to elude one another
All to trick the other into fraud.
And yet, thy mask never truly retires.

a raven, alone in an old empty church
living by the silence of the moonlit night;
soars into the sky; crying on a silver birch
of seeing other creatures being recognized,
a raven, a captive of every old yearning vow
seeks a better place, yet wings are broken;
if only this strident world is listening now,
that raven might whisper its existence.