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A chocolate box, a show'r of roses,
passes by a hundred noses,
losing quick its scent or taste,
and its sweet colours nigh erased.
So therefore, I thought I’d be smart
and write an octave, from the heart,
for words won’t fade, as colours do,
and mine are written just for you.

He loved her so, she loved him deep.
She flushed so when he swore he’d stay,
and held her to his side in sleep,
since she gave her heart away.

She was his first everything;
he’d fill her heart up ev'ry day,
and press her to his heart and sing,
since she gave her heart away.

And when at last he did depart
she begged for him to not betray,
but nay, with him he took her heart,
since she’d given it away.

She was his first everything,
as all the famous poets say -
but he was her last anything,
since she gave her heart away.

depressed days suggest pressed dazed
repressed separated deep sped dressers
dearest speed reddens undressed reeds
nursed desperate stressed depressors

The cheerless man walks through the crowd of nameless, shapeless faces
Moving swiftly, loud and rough, to more familiar places
He has a lot of things to do, so has no time to smile
His life is far too serious to lighten up awhile

And though he sees what’s going on, he still wears his dark coat
He turns his back upon the world and hums a weary note
He disbelieves in anarchy; he has to have routine
And in his haste to get things done, he leaves the world unseen

The cheerless man goes on and on; he never seems to stop
He knows his dedication could well help him reach the top
The cheerless man works steadily, no time for smiles or fun
He makes no space for anything; his work is never done

And every day is just the same for solemn, cheerless man
From home to work and back again to where he first began
And though the cheerless man leaves all his cheer upon the shelf
He still goes on in his small world, chuckling to himself

What made us run aground
upon the rocky shores?
Who then began to sing
of the friends that we’d lost?

The egos of ev'ry
person worshipped and crowned
denying nature’s ways
against rocks should be tossed.

Of every trying thing
that we on Earth have found,
nothing surpasses time
in pain and human cost.

If time could be rewound,
what sorrows would it bring?

in my room
a sunday afternoon on the island of a burgundyacidparadise dream
the pinch and push of human faces, cartoons shrinking rainbow triangles
a glance to the drawer - melting, melting(is it a bear or an eagle?)
the music echoes in a head room full of autumn sun
clifford brown cutting the light and springing joy
books floating, books falling, books fluttering fractal butterflies
and the painting flows together and becomes one
lanterns shooting dragonfly dots above the piano
hot, hot, the fan exists and fades, roars (did i speak just now?)
chemical reaction inside a chemical reaction
trip along with the music let it guide
and shake it out when it goes dark
drip into the wall ripples (is there a storm? or is it the fan?
which direction is the door? and where is the incense blowing?)
take it fagen, take it becker
time out of mind indeed
handprint, faceprint, dust in a yellow tint
don’t want me to leave that’s fine by me
lie down and let it take me where it wants to go
lyin tyga in my head
push me down upon my bed
cancel out the need for time
and make my visions warm
sublime as a sunflower
a spiral leaf of hummingcomb
water, water, fizz, fizz
take me where the sunset is
(how did i get outside)no noise
getting calmer but just as beautiful
in my room