We didn't say much that night,
but the silence loudly spoke.
We were burning moonlight
watching it go up in a puff of smoke.
We both felt the fire,
but it couldn't last long.
For one of us or the other
the heat would soon be gone.
There was no fear, just separation;
the night bore a connotation
of terminal proportions,
and an impending self-condemnation.
Awash there in the silence,
watching the night hang overhead,
we sat, as though watching kin
slowly slipping away in their deathbed.
Like, we know that it's coming,
there's no impending sense of dread.
We'll say a prayer and throw some flowers
Then both sleep in our own separate bed.
We almost force a smile
when our eyes meet.
It takes a while of trying
Before we both look back at our feet.
Still, she leans into me,
Closes her eyes against my shoulder.
The only warmth left between us
So I wrap her up and hold her
and we sit there,
cloaked in the waning night.
The clouds have blanketed the stars
and we've burned up all the moonlight.

She has a luminescence about her
A way of outshining the neon and fluorescent
That cling to her curves as she dances beneath them
I stood there, in my second-hand persona,
wearing a mask of bravado, now whimsical with
its mouth agape, staring as she made love to the music.
I recollected myself,
remembered to breathe,
swallowed my heart,
and dared to move closer.

The rhythmic pulse of the music
threatened to crush me as my feet touched the floor-
my head still in the cloud generated by her heat,
that permeated every molecule of my body.
The closer I got, the harder it was to keep
from succumbing to the lack of air.
"Remember to breathe.
You're sweating.
Abort. NO.
Play it cool. You're cool."

I could have pieced together
A thousand words, pulled from the ether
and crafted into exactly-what-she-wanted-to-hear,
But she had taken my air.
My tongue wouldn't move with my lips
To form a simple hello.
I just stood there in my mask.
No longer whimsical.
Nearly desperate
and certain that I would die right there.

Then, in a move that writes love songs,
that creates sunsets and shifts paradigms,
SHE, this caramel-skinned goddess
Wove her warm, illuminated fingers into mine
And pulled me into that dance
That she was sharing only with the music.
Not breathing again.
Keep moving.
Stop thinking.
Just be. Right now, just be.

So, I was. Dead to time and space,
alive to the moment and the music,
Her touch, the light and the curves.
She held to me as if she read my mind;
perhaps I wear my heart in my eyes.
Eyes that she seemed to pull my soul out of
To drown it in hers, as she danced
With me.
To me. Through me.
Beyond me.
But with me, as though I were the light and the music,
and she wasn't done making love.

To me, you are a paradise
Stretched far beyond the mind's frail grasp
What glory found on simple sands
Could elicit such awestruck gasp?

None other, love, but you alone,
Could promise such without a word,
But with a look, a simple touch,
Make silent sentiment so heard.

Endless summer, boundless heaven,
Far from the path I thought to trod;
You've echoed hymns they've never sung
Words written by the hand of God.

Okay, Cupid, tell me true-
The hell'd I ever do to you?
You flap about, your bowstring drawn
Aiming just to lead me on.

"Oh, she's the one!" You always say,
And with a 'thwip', arrows away!
And when it hits, right in my heart,
Proceeds to tear the world apart.

And then you just flutter away,
No doubt thinking "good job, today!"
But Cupid, sir, you fail to tell
That my poor heart is in for hell.

Now, love is grand, don't get me wrong,
But never seems to last for long.
Those arrows you're so fond to fire
Are sometimes too quick to expire.

So, Cupid, mate, step up your game,
Or redirect your blasted aim.
If love is such a complex trick,
Don't shoot at me you little *****!

Today I cried, my heart is rent
For somebody I didn't know.
And for the fact that, nowadays,
They say "that's just the way things go".

A man was slain without just cause,
An officer behind the gun;
And instantly, divided we
Debate justice, where there is none.

Regardless of public record,
The man was slain for not one sin-
He died because of ignorance.
He died because of his dark skin.

The officer might go to trial,
And just as likely, he'll go free.
And we'll be told "respect the cops,
They're here for their community."

You've got a glow
like a star.
From afar,
I wished on you,
and now, there you are.
Looking at me
from behind those
eyelashes,
smashing
my inhibitions
like broken prose.

Pretty you,
whom I have yet to meet,
I greet you,
sweetly,
and ask you this:
would you miss
the moonlight
if I stole it from your eyes?
The mirrored glow
they show
is more bright,
and not to my surprise-
how could
even the moon
not swoon,
lost in your gaze?
Moonbeams and
starlight, both
seem to have
lost their ways.

Could you tell me,
pretty you-
did the wind put you there?
You have taken
my breath,
and shaken
the air
around your face.
Such grace must
surely fly-
so how is it
that you pass me by
here on the ground?
Don't misunderstand,
I'm glad you've
come around,
pretty you.

Pretty you,
I hope I'm not
too fresh,
but my mind is
a bit of a mesh,
and you're pouring
through it.
The sound of
nature stopping
to admire,
like moths to a fire,
myself closest to
the flame.
Tell me,
pretty you,
do you have a name?
What word could be
crafted, such a beauty to frame?
Surely, anything plain
would only defame.

I'll be honest,
pretty miss,
my heart tells me to
chance a kiss,
but I know I shouldn't
rush, but take it slow.
Instead, I have another plan
to sit here, and maybe
hold your hand,
and under moonlight,
your voice, get to know.
But should the passion overtake,
don't be shy, make no mistake-
I won't be put off should you choose to,
lean in close,
just
like
this...
and like so,
steal a little kiss...

That would be just fine, pretty you

Gave us oil and gave us matches,
didn't give us fire...
Told us we were on our own but,
kept us on the wire.
Stale green heads of famous dead ones
always ruling us.
On their backs we write reminders
of in whom we trust.

Vicious cycle, circumstance will
find us set aflame.
Take a breath and burn to ash leave
nothing but a name.
Lies in print and moving pictures
bought at market price;
cold and hollow, hard to swallow,
still our favorite vice.

Fundamental narcissism
glory be to we~
Sinners drenched in good intentions
wild dichotomy.
Liars, haters, instigators,
nothing good to say.
Everything will be just fine if
they don't have to pay.

Final cycle, broken bible
read selectively,
love and hate up for debate but
neither one is free.
"Follow blindly close behind me"-
so the lemming said.
We'll find out who's wrong and right, as
soon as we're all dead.

We all used to be cannibals.
We tore flesh with our mandibles.
Times were hard for neanderthals.
Kinda men but still animals.

Did we still mourn those that were gone
as we were gnawing on the bone?
Behold the upright hairless dawn,
the greatest beasts this world has known.

Even back then, it took gumption
to prep beloved for consumption.
Grief gave pause, but safe assumption,
hunger led to feast's resumption.

Fast forward to the present day,
the greatest beasts still have their way.
As in that ancient yesterday,
upon the weak and ill they prey.

It's dog-eat-dog. Life's a mother,
til beneath the dirt we smother.
We're all cannibals, my brother-
feeding off of one another.

There was a guy named Larry,
who lived in Little Rock.
He liked to spend his afternoons
with both hands on his

Custom motorcycle-
that he kept full of gas.
He liked to ride to downtown bars
and take it up the

alleyways, real slowly,
and give a little grunt,
in hopes some lady of the night
just might give him some

competent directions,
to a place that doesn't ****.
A place where all the waitresses
are always down to

Fill your drinks more quickly,
and bring you extra bread.
Quick and super-friendly, and
prepared to give you

heavy, double portions,
and charm you with her wits.
When she leans across the table,
you really see her

Trying hard to please you,
and serve you as you dine.
If you're ordering a combo,
she'll suggest the 69!


(That's the beef with broccoli, you pervert.)

I take a breath and close my eyes
And whisper "please, just let it pass".
My heart beats fast, my chest is tight,
I feel I'll break, I'm made of glass.

I want to scream, but lack the air,
The best that I can do is cry
And in the midst of all of this
I'm certain this is how I'll die.

I just need you to give me room
I just want you to hold me tight
I need silent reassurance,
I need to think I'll be alright.

My legs are weak; my heavy arms
Can do little to calm the storm.
My mind, my trap, my prison cell,
My oldest foe in truest form.

I close my eyes, I clinch my fist
And take another heavy breath,
And silently, I pray for peace,
Some cadence or merciful death.

Just between you and me,
I've got this little fantasy
about a beach in Waikiki
where nobody else goes.
We could lie lazily
in the shade of an old palm tree,
a world apart where we could be
a story no-one knows.

Just between me and you,
I'd get lost in the ocean blue,
dancing mirror of sky's hue
riding on the tide.
Could it ever come true?
Maybe, if we follow through.
A little happiness is due.
I'd find it by your side.

Just between you and I,
instead of simply getting by,
we should give the dream a try-
just pick a time and day.
If you're not afraid to fly,
we'll be there in the blink of an eye,
and kiss this humdrum life goodbye
and steal paradise away.

Heaven holds no paradise
that I've not found in your embrace.
No golden hue, divine device-
Heaven holds no paradise,
to beckon me look even twice.
No glory there to match your face.
Heaven holds no paradise
that I've not found in your embrace.

You tell me that you love me so,
and that you always will-
a love like that is hard to find,
and harder to fulfill.
You love me while I'm full of life
I truly hope you stay,
but are you gonna love me when
the luster falls away?

I'll never be this young again,
now, please, don't think me bold-
but are you sure your love will stand
when I am gray and old?
The spring will be gone from my step,
my strength will also fade.
Will I turn round to see you gone,
or be glad that you stayed?

The stars themselves fade out in time,
their shine will dim and die,
and it won't take that kind of time
to wither you and I;
but if you love me as you say,
then time will see us kept,
until beneath her currents cold
the river sees us swept.

So, when the luster falls away,
and all that's left is old,
will you still be the one I have,
the one I get to hold?
If your dear heart is true enough
to an old soul like me,
then that sweet love will be enough
for my eternity.

Pretty little singing blue jay,
petite chanteuse in navy gown,
your sweet tweets drive the gray away
and pick me up when I am down.

But, blue jay friend, so help me GOD,
if on my car lands one small poo,
I'll climb that tree and drop my pants,
and return the favor to you.

Early one morning, before sun took to sky,
they came to take Johnny. It was his time to die.
The town had all gathered, the crowd circled in.
As Johnny was strong armed, by four big men,
and lead to the gallows, to hang until dead.
They called for his blood, and he just turned his head.

Johnny stayed silent, as the hateful calls came,
with no pleas for his life, or innocent claim.
He stepped to the noose, with no fear in his eyes,
not every man chooses just when he dies.
But Johnny had taken, the life of a man-
with no explanation, with his own bare hands.
The crowd raised their bibles, demanded him dead,
they called for his life, and he just turned his head.

The priest at the gallows, looked him in the eye,
and said to him "Johnny, you're fixin' to die.
You've been tried and sentenced, and haven't been heard.
You're found guilty of ******, and y'ain't said a word.
It's too late for you now, to make recompense,
but do you have any last words, to speak in defense?"
The crowd was voracious, they wanted him dead.
He just cleared his throat, and lifted his head...

The silence that followed, was stuck in their throats,
as Johnny spoke up, in no broken notes.
"The man killed my brother, and then was set free.
He was friends with the judges, that execute me.
If justice shall fail, then take vengeance instead-
so I took the man's throat, and I choked the man dead.
Now I face the gallows, I do so with no dread."
The crowd remained silent. Each one turned their head.

The sun broke the darkness, on the top of that hill.
Johnny stopped speaking, and stepped to the ****.
The noose was pulled tight, up under his chin.
He looked towards heaven, eyes vacant of sin.
The old oak trap door, creaked under his feet,
and with a pull of a lever, the deed was complete,
and a peaceful expression graced the face of the dead;
and even the hangman, had to turn his head.

Later that evening, as the sun left the sky,
she sat at John's grave, with no tears left to cry.
She dropped a red rose, on the freshly dug earth,
and said goodbye to the last child, she'd ever giv'n birth.
She'd buried the other, as she buried this one,
one died for the other, to see justice done.
She sat there and pondered, where the road had lead.
Then she stood up, heartbroken, and just turned her head.

There're few stories mournful as Reese's,
who, on dynamite, wrote his thesis.
One day, as dawn broke,
he lit up a smoke,
and BOOM!  Now it rains Reese's Pieces.

When I was young,
I thought that one day
I'd learn to shave my face
and wear a polio brace.
This might seem absurd to you,
but I just thought it's what you do
when you become a man.

My father wore one of his own,
His left leg, withered to the bone,
and Dad was the first man I knew,
so I thought that was just what men do.
He walked with a limp,
but his head held high.
He looked life, no shame,
right in the eye.
He didn't let a moment pass him by,
because that's what men do.

He went to college, and got a degree,
and earned his keep most honestly.
He never asked for charity,
though he said "there's no shame
if you have to."
He was always humble, but not insecure,
of mind and body he was always sure-
for he kept them healthy, kept them pure,
because that's what men do.

He was always smiling, and quick as a whip,
his dinner parties were always a trip-
watching him and his guests exchange quips;
he was the funniest guy they knew.
And if a loved one was down and out,
he was the first one there, without doubt.
He said you should never let one do without,
because that's what men do.

He had a strong mind, and the heart of a bear,
He faced even tragedy with savoir faire
But his strong calm demeanor didn't hide his care,
The world knew his heart was true.
He stayed faithfully by my mother's side,
as the cancer took her and she slowly died,
I understood, when he finally cried,
that that is what men do.

I grew up and learned how to shave my face,
but not before Dad went to a "better place".
Still, til his last breath, he faced life with grace,
with a smile on his face, and a polio brace,
because that's what men do.

With the very last ounce of strength
its tiny, broken body brings,
it takes one final shot at life,
and slowly, once more, ***** its wings.

A woman is like a candle,
full of warmth, and bright.
When the world is at its darkest,
a good one can be your light.
She'll bring such heat and beauty,
to see you through the night.
Though storms leave you in darkness,
with her there, you feel alright.

A woman is like a candle, true.
a necessity to have around-
but if denied the proper attention
she could burn your house to the ground.

Cyrus was a butcher,
the ladies thought him sweet,
and when they spoke,
the gals would joke
about old Cyrus' meat.

But soon the missus told 'em,
her one and only beef-
forget the size
or how he'd rise,
Old Cyrus was too brief.

His brother, Clive, the baker,
a young and heavy lad,
was paid no mind
by womankind
cause of the weight he had.

But soon the missus told 'em,
with a twinkle in her eye,
Forget the size,
or how he'd rise,
that boy could eat a pie!

Nary a **** was given that day,
as the writer decided to fade away.
He tightened the rope, and whispered a prayer,
and took that final step off the chair.

Folks mostly wondered "What was he ON?"
Rumors and whispers, all when it was done,
but he wasn't "human", and now he was gone,
and no **** was given- no, not a ****** one.

Come lay your weapons down, my son,
the battle's through, the race is run,
and you've done all that you can do.
Your verse is sung, your part is through,
the need to wield your fire is done.

Behold, the setting of the sun,
as ushered in on smoking gun.
Your heart, in battle, remained true,
Come lay your weapons down.

A life of blood and tears now shun,
grant no more thought to either one.
Your world was always set askew,
and vicious when twas through with you.
Yet, you fought til it was done.
Come lay your weapons down.

Don't we two hearts oft seem to tread
on common sands?  A common thread
appears to bind with no great dread,
with not a word, between us, said.

The rhythm of your ebb, my flow,
as fate takes us where we might go,
so coincide, suspicions grow-
is there some plot we can't yet know?

Your face I see, in maddened crowd,
with silence that echoes aloud.
If coincidence, I'm wowed-
if cosmic hand, it should be proud.

As subtle as sand on the wake,
who knows where next our waves will break?
Adrift on currents we both take-
The Cosmos makes no such mistake.

Kiss me goodbye
don't say a word
you've said enough
it's all been heard
I'm letting go
so don't hang on
The time has come
and I am gone.

Perhaps I failed,
I've been known to.
It could be me,
it could be you.
I place no blame,
no guilt I feel.
No fairy tale-
this ending's real.

Kiss me goodbye,
I'm on my way.
You'll live to love
another day.
I'll carry on
in my own form,
my conscience clear
to keep me warm.

So close your eyes,
and purse your lips,
come here and grab
me by the hips,
and kiss me, like
you used to do-
when you loved me
and I loved you.

Kiss me goodbye,
without a sound,
tomorrow I
won't be around.
And all that I
am gonna miss
will pale beside
that one last kiss.

Thought I saw you today
But I was wrong
Was the hair that got me,
Chestnut, so long
Almost followed at first but
Good sense came along
And I knew within my heart
That you were gone.

It would be awkward anyway
Talking again,
I would lose my voice after
"How have you been?"
So much has transpired
'Tween now and then,
I'm a different man
Since you've been gone.

I thought I saw you again
But I let it go.
In spite of what it looked like
At heart I know,
I never saw you leave, but
come ebb and flow,
Time keeps telling me
That you're still gone.

Maybe it's some stress-based
Hallucination.
A figment of an exhausted
Imagination.
Anxiety tied to this old
Separation.
But I know it's not you, here,
I know you're gone.

I thought I saw you, again,
In flesh and bone,
Didn't look a bit different since
You left me alone.
The world keeps on changing
So much is unknown,
But I know I couldn't see you, now,
The dead stay gone.

If I haven't told you
If I forgot to say
Let me clear the air now,
Before time slips away

In case you missed it, baby
If the message failed to send
I'll try to make it clear now
Try to help you comprehend

If you wonder where my heart lies
You can lay that doubt to rest.
Nothing else in this whole world
Puts this thunder in my chest.

So in case I failed to mention,
To be certain that you've heard
You should know how much I love you
Without a single spoken word.

Like saccharine and strychnine
make the poison bittersweet;
cut the sickness into pieces,
make it easier to eat.
**** the head and save the body,
seems to come the faded cry.
While the masses pass us single file,
content to follow and die.

America is bleeding,
her streets are running red.
They're running out of places
to pile up all the dead.
Uncle Sam is smoking,
pockets fat with oil and gas;
when will Lady Liberty
hold that flame under his ***?

America is bleeding,
a badge stuck in her chest,
can't defend a head wound
behind a kevlar vest.
And Justice wears a blindfold,
but it works kinda funny.
She can see right through it
if you have the money.

America is bleeding,
and now her children see
right on through the smokescreens
into her hypocrisy.
While high atop the flagpole
Old Glory's Stars stained red.
If we don't stop the bleeding,
We're gonna end up dead.

A county and a world from here,
an hour on the highway,
a barren, level plot of land
marks where we used to stay.
Though close enough to share the rain,
when skies are turned to gray,
I've found that home to ever be
a million miles away.

The echoes of much simpler times
could ever lead the way,
to look upon that gravel road,
where I learned to work and play,
back before the hands of God
pulled you out of the fray,
and set you on some golden street
a million miles away.

I used to visit all the time,
the place where you now lay,
with roses and whatever words
I felt the need to say.
But chiseled marble memories
are not the ones that stay;
the you I miss is ever more
a million miles away.

If fate shall see the faithless sort
like me to judgment day,
forgive my selfish doubt and bile
and beckon me to stay,
I'll seek your precious company,
I'll have so much to say;
wait for me, and I'll find you there
a million miles away.

But life has seen me shun such hope,
forgetting how to pray.
I wear an air of certain doubt
I can't help but display.
Blessings come, and blessings go,
so very few will stay.
And most, once lost, will ever seem
a million miles away.

We are of one song,
but the verses ever change,
and no two of us are the same.
One chorus, in billions of keys,
and it doesn't always rhyme.

In a perfect verse,
we're born and we grow,
find love and a happily ever after,
then when we're old and gray
silently slip away in our sleep.

But the song is more often
melancholy than melodic,
less rhythm, more blues,
and we struggle to keep time,
and it doesn't always rhyme.

But SING!
Sing for all you're worth,
sing out of tune,
sing the wrong words,
sing at the top of your lungs
because it's YOUR verse,
YOUR voice,
YOUR efforts that make
the song worth singing
for those around you.
Find harmony in our
lack of melody,
find comfort in
our cacophonous refrain,
find yourself
in the words of the song,
and remember,
it doesn't always rhyme,
but you're never singing alone.

I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.

Today another human
was buried in the dirt,
and other humans gathered round,
and cried because it hurt.
And nothing in the time that he
had spent upon this earth,
could, in those tear-filled mourners' eyes,
diminish that man's worth.

No label he had ever worn
could sway their human hearts.
With no conditions, they loved him,
the sum of all his parts.
Now under six cold feet of ground,
he lies before his time.
And other humans wonder if
the sentence fit the crime.

Another human was his mom,
another was his dad.
Some others still had been his friends
since he was just a lad.
They had laughed and cried with him,
been true through thick and thin.
Now they've thrown handfuls on the box
they buried the man in.

Now the streets are burning-
other humans, filled with rage,
lash out at OTHER humans,
with the city as their stage.
Man and woman, boy and girl,
bear witness what you're seeing-
the aftermath of the wrongful death
of another human being.

What's at the end of the rainbow?
I tell you my brother, I know.
I saw one across the meadow,
and I knew that I had to go.

I went with a heart of wonder,
bright as the arc I was under,
I marveled at fading thunder,
clouds as they drifted asunder.

My spirit was lighter than air,
my mind had but only one care,
to follow that colorful glare,
to what's at the end of it, there.

The closer I got, I would sing,
my steps would pick up a fresh spring,
when I get there, my heart takes wing,
as I find there...


Not a ****** thing.

It matters not that years may pass
and take with them parts of us,
or age may sneak across our faces
and throw us under the bus.
Still seemingly a sculpture
or an ageless nursery rhyme,
you hang there, art for soul displayed
beyond the touch of time.

I witnessed as you robbed me
of attention elsewhere spent.
You blossomed like a cherry tree,
and I lied to mask intent
A craving for a fresh Spring love,
that very tree to climb,
and to swing there, from your branches
beyond the touch of time.

I wanted you like Summertime,
I reveled in your heat.
The long, hot days turned into nights
Where I sought to compete
to bask there in your sunlight...
I'd spend my final dime
To ride the sky with you, like stars,
beyond the touch of time.

I fell for you like fiery leaves,
carried forth on Autumn wind,
and dried up on the forest floor
A season, there to spend,
Nestled in your deep laid roots,
it should have been a crime
To fade away as you stood there
beyond the touch of time.

I loved you like a blizzard,
but you came across as salt
Melting me to clear the way
through my wintry assault.
Yet danced around me like a flake,
held aloft by the sublime,
and hung there in the frozen air
beyond the touch of time.

Full circle, and full cycle,
the revolution's done.
In the aftermath, the epilogue,
it's hard to say who won.
I still see you, through the seasons
and you live on like a rhyme,
written upon  infinity,
beyond the touch of time.

On the clearest of nights,
when the moon is new,
I like to lie on my back
in the grass and dirt.
I'll close my eyes, and
lie there, silent,
feeling the wind roll over me
timing my breathing with
the dance between breeze and grass,
keeping meter with the song they play.
Then, I feel the earth against my back.
I stretch my arms
as   wide   as     I    can...
and, palms down,
I hold the world on my back.
I try to feel the weight of it
on my shoulders.
I think of the size of this
hot ball of rock and water.
I feel the heaviness of
all of its inhabitants.
I feel their slightest vibrations-
baby steps
that move mountains-
shaping the landscape
and changing the destiny of this
ball of dirt.
I feel it living.
At the same time, I feel it dying.
It's an endless cycle
Of beautiful, precious life
in terminal doses.
I think of all this,
behind my back,
on my shoulders,
until I feel that the weight of it all
will surely crush me.
In that moment, I open my eyes
And look up at the clear,
moonless sky, and see
a sea of stars,
burning brighter than normal
as they pierce the darkness,
the illusion of the world on my shoulders.
As I stare into the cosmos,
the reality of this little ball of rock
is lifted from my back.
What was, moments ago,
the heaviest object in the universe,
was now tiny, when set against infinity.
I finally stand, and smile,
having successfully
thrown the planet back into space.

(Foreword:  the word Gvgeyu'i (pronounced guh-GAY-yoo-ee) in the eastern Giduwah Cherokee dialect, means both "I love you", and "love" as a noun.)

Gvgeyu'i
by light of fire
'neath full moon's gaze
and shaman's drum,
the young brave
and the princess fair
dance alone where day is done.

Gvgeyu'i
he hears her say,
as embers dance
between the two,
the flames give way,
to passions blaze
'neath starlit sky
ancestors' view

"Gvgeyu'i"
he echoes back,
never turning
tail to flame,
"Gvgeyu'i,
my sun and moon,
even if you don't
feel the same."

Gvgeyu'i
the spirits chant
enchanted by the
dancing fire.
The longing lovers
drip with sweat
as voices crack
and muscles tire.

Gvgeyu'i
the princess sighs,
the spirit-flame
glows in her eyes,
Gvgeyu'i,
her lover true,
utters back her
lovelorn cries.

Gvgeyu'i,
they sang with glee,
the night, the silence
echoed, too,
Gvgeyu'i,
they sang together,
and followed it with
i-go-hi-dv.


(Footnote: i-go-hi-dv is pronounced "ee-go-he-doo" and means "Forever")

John Doe died this morning,
a man of indeterminate age
They found him in an alleyway,
a blanket of newspaper lining his cage
They said it was overexposure,
hypothermia and bad luck.
He was pronounced, tagged, thrown in a bag,
and loaded onto the truck.

John Doe had lived in that same spot
for fifteen haggard years.
Yet nobody knew his real name,
or listened to his tears.
Was he once a father? Or
was he always just a punk?
The community just passed him by
To them he was nothing but a drunk.

Whether or not John Doe had seen
better times seemed irrelevant.
Legally, John wasn't a human being
just a negative urban element.
His last words were "Spare some change
for coffee and hot bread?"
But nobody could spare the time,
and left John Doe for dead.

I wonder how long John sat dead
before anybody saw or cared.
I wonder how many handfuls of change
really could have been spared.
A little bit of warmth and hope
Were all that he desired;
But John Doe never saw a break,
until his time expired.

Old John was unidentified,
no license or social security;
no family reported him missing,
see, John was just an "impurity".
The mortician took his organs out
and stitched him up with wire.
Threw him on the metal table
and slid him in the fire.

John Doe was disposed of
in accordance with local code
Then they cleaned up the alleyway
He lived and died in, his abode.
John Doe is dead and gone now,
but I guess it's all the same.
John had never really lived
since the world forgot he had a name.

Early one morning, before sun took to sky,
they came to take Johnny.  It was his time to die.
The town had all gathered, the crowd circled in.
As Johnny was strong armed, by four big men,
and lead to the gallows, to hang until dead.
They called for his blood, and he just turned his head.

Johnny stayed silent, as the hateful calls came,
with no pleas for his life, or innocent claim.
He stepped to the noose, with no fear in his eyes,
not every man chooses just when he dies.
But Johnny had taken, the life of a man-
with no explanation, with his own bare hands.
The crowd raised their bibles, demanded him dead,
the called for his life, and he just turned his head.

The priest at the gallows, looked him in the eye,
and said to him "Johnny, you're fixin' to die.
You've been tried and sentenced, and haven't been heard.
You're found guilty of ******, and y'ain't said a word.
It's too late for you now, to make recompense,
but do you have any last words, to speak in defense?"
The crowd was voracious, they wanted him dead.
He just cleared his throat, and lifted his head...

The silence that followed, was stuck in their throats,
as Johnny spoke up, in no broken notes.
"The man killed my brother, and then was set free.
He was friends with the judges, that execute me.
If justice shall fail, then take vengeance instead-
so I took the man's throat, and I choked the man dead.
Now I face the gallows, I do so with no dread."
The crowd remained silent.  Each one turned their head.

The sun broke the darkness, on the top of that hill.
Johnny stopped speaking, and stepped to the ****.
The noose was pulled tight, up under his chin.
He looked towards heaven, eyes vacant of sin.
The old oak trap door, creaked under his feet,
and with a pull of a lever, the deed was complete,
and a peaceful expression graced the face of the dead;
and even the hangman, had to turn his head.

Later that evening, as the sun left the sky,
she sat at John's grave, with no tears left to cry.
She dropped a red rose, on the freshly dug earth,
and said goodbye to the last child, she'd ever giv'n birth.
She'd buried the other, as she buried this one,
one died for the other, to see justice done.
She sat there and pondered, where the road had lead.
Then she stood up, heartbroken, and just turned her head.

Will you see me to the river?
I fear that I have lost my way.
Could I find her muddy waters
Then I know i would be okay.

This path, I cannot recognize,
The shadows here are tall and fierce,
The lights that used to guide my steps
This twilight haze they cannot pierce.

Lead me to her raging rapids
Waters cool and unrelenting,
Let her hear my last confession
Close as I come to repenting.

Let her take me to the ocean,
Let her bury me in the sea,
The salty air to soothe my soul
On the warm sands of memory