In the bag of death he lay,
all zipped up, here to stay.

Upon his toe, there hangs a tag,
Dead on Arrival, lies on the slab.

Eyes closed shut, red everywhere.
Taken away,  nobody cares.

His pain is gone, he cries no more.
Silence is simple, down to the core.

Shot in the chest, wouldn't you know?
Another victim is gone named John Doe.

I drew a picture,
so simple and clean.

I drew on it canvas,
so ugly and mean.

I drew with it crayon
with red and black.

I drew it with anger
with a knife in my back.

I drew from my mind
and things that you hid.

I drew from inside
and hole that you dig.

I drew a picture,
thought it was cute.

I drew it on canvas,
thought I killed you.

Ship ahoy !
she sails into the harbor,
masts glistening in the morning sun,
her decks a wash with the promise of discovery,
her groaning timbers telling tales of forbidden pleasures,
rich is her cargo and she bows under weight of collected treasures,
take me away oh merry band of sailors,
take me to your lands of bounty,
never again to return to these shores.

Cigarettes and alibis,
purple turtles, little white lies,
see you fall on a silver screen,
a living testament of all that’s been,

caught your tears in a bottle of rye,
never ever seen a crocodile cry,
storms a brewing in an old tea cup,
stirred up the leafs, our time is up.

Midnight laced the sky's blue moon.
The lights in the castle shone out loud.
The lady of the house be gone.
Wrapped in cloak of night sky blue.
The verdant field met late night's lights.
With nearly morning breeze.

Then there came the turbulence.
A hurricane.
Over the drawbridge.
feeling the force.
Weather beaten and worn.
The oak door screams back.
It's fighting against its hinges.
She's led into the parlour.
Taken by the hand of her faithful lord.
The lonely lord of live alone.
A silent servant sleeps downstairs,
Privately hidden in the cellar under the house.

A tray of nuts and garlic butter mushroom nibbles presented.
Delivered with a scrumptious glass of warming scarlet wine.
Any port in a storm.
He had collected them that morn,just before the break of dawn.
Oh that the darkest time of day.
The mushrooms he'd collected.
Were very very wrong.
The housemaid entered the drawing room.
Quiet as a house mouse.
She couldn't wake them up.
Didn't dare.
They were sleeping silently, within death's cold embrace.
She paid but no attention, as she stoked the angry fireplace.
(c) Livvi

A single jasmine
can be my garland
A single grape
can be my vineyard.

You
are all I need.
You
add fragrance,
You
add sweetness
to my being.

You
are my one
in the many
Also
my many in
the one...