They were happy
For the first time in their lives
A window of joy
An instance of hope
She was so beautiful
A baby girl
But happiness is a kind of sorrow in itself
Nothing in life is free
The mother was bleeding
Her life slowly ebbing away,
slipping through her fingers
she paid for her daughter’s life
with her own
they could have saved her
she could have raised her child
but there was no blood

He had lived this far
only by a miracle
all those years of chemotherapy
slowly decaying his body
his spirit, willing
his flesh, so weak
since birth
his own body killing itself
leaukimia had taken its toll
they said he had lived too long
that he was a fighter
eight years old
but he needed the transfusion
to live eight more
he could have lived longer
he could have had
his first date
his first dance
his first kiss
he could have walked down the aisle
with the love of his life
he could have known life, love and happiness
before he knew death
he could have known the joy of bringing up his children
of watching his grand children grow
but now he can’t
he sits in a hospital bed , surrounded by those who love him
awaiting his fate
for there was no blood

an unborn baby
getting ready to enter this world
this beautiful world
not knowing how much
sorrow his coming brings
his mother sheds tears
though not of joy
it was either him or her
a mother forced to decide
the life of her child
or that of herself
but there was a slim chance
he could survive
they had to operate
she agreed.
The operation
A success
The baby was saved
....well almost saved
they tried every corner
looking, searching
hospitals, dispensaries
they even appealed to schools
but they got the same answer
his whole life ahead of him
now lay behind him
he was six months old
prematurely born
pre maturely dying
he could have lived
but there was no blood

They were to wed in two weeks
Exchange vows
Walk down the aisle
Sound familiar
But war came up
He went to fight for his country
To keep her safe
She remained
Praying each day for his return
Then they brought back his body
Mortar fire, shrapnel
had shredded his flesh beyond hope
They had to amputate his leg
He bled to death
They could have saved him
She walks down the aisle
But as a widow not a bride
A dirge instead of the wedding march
Haunts her steps
She carries lilies instead of roses
Black-clad instead of white.
The brightes of days turned to
a night as dark as midnight’s face
the vows she would have said
had been fulfiled
till death did them part.
He could have been by her side
Kissing her
Watching as she threw the bouqet
Watching as their first child learned to walk, ride a bicycle
As their first child got married
They could have sp[ent the rest of their lives
Together as they ought to have been
But there was no blood

We preach water and drink wine
we excpect to be saved
when we refuse to save others
we take on the role of executioner
executioner of the innocent
i’m afraid, it will hurt, i don’t have enough
i can’t do it, i’m too old
We **** the innocent with our decision
We **** our future, our hope, our dreams
We **** those we love

You say none of these apply to you
Then Let me dash your dream world
Your fantasy, your bubble that you call life
Let me dash them on the jagged teeth of reality

Your brother lies dying in an ambulance
A knife sticking out of his heart
He has been mugged
Your father lies, dying, after a heart bypass operation
His only chance of life becoming one of the many for death.
Your mother lies sick in a hospital bed
Anaemic and slowly slipping away
Age caught up with  her
Your sister lies in a clinic
An accident cut a major blood vessel
She is losing her life
You could have saved them all
But you didn’t
Maybe you still  can
Or maybe its too late
Did i forget to mention
You lie in the bed next to your mother
Wishing, hoping, praying for life
Weak from a car crash
You have lost the very blood you refused to give
The very blood you wish could save the lives of your loved ones
The doctor walks in
Clip board in hand.
What do you think he will say.

What will your ending be.
You may
Choose your destiny
Or choose your death
But remember,
Greater love hath no man
Than to lay down his life for a friend
How much more if it were a stranger.

Hair as black as nightshade’s bloom
Eyes cold sapphires set in a face of stone
Skin, milky pale, cheeks diamond white,
Heart as dark as darkest night


Words of honey laced with hemlock
Venom so sweet but alas so deadly
Beautiful rose, poisonous thorns
The devil with hidden horns

Bloodied hand, murdered dreams
She dares lay sleep to sleep
Slashed hearts, tattered souls
Broken is the most sacred of vows

Never to sleep, never to rest
Never to drift off in peace
For thou hast put to death
Thine sleep
Thou shalt not know oblivion’s deep

And if you sink beneath slumber’s waves
Then hell awaits there-in
To haunt and torture
To hack as you stray
Into that world each day


In sleep your dreams will haunt and chase
A-wandering you’ll try to run away
Demons of Hades devils of Seth
Haunt and torture Lady Macbeth

So arise ye furies avengers of blood
And hasten to punish this sin
For the ****** of sleep
The killing of a king
Hades fire upon their souls shall bring

The wind feels like a second skin
And the sun, like a lover's caress
We dance round the corpses of our lost faith
Till our eyes burn amber with insanity
Raise your voice till each breath burns
Searing winter's air on a midsummer's night
As we are expected to play the roles dictated
Would you be able to recognize
The monster you've created

Poetry, my cruel mistress,
She weaves words
Into a tapestry that can
bear the soul of man
to the highest peaks of
the heavens
or dash it on the
jagged teeth of hell

Her garment,
The essence of man’s soul
Strung together by a string that is
The very being of sorrow’s spirit
Dyed with blood,
From a piece of her lover’s heart
My heart
Given to her
In my words.

The sorrow of joy
The relief of pain
The defeat that victory brings
The happiness that is sorrow
The paradox of love
The juxtaposition of life and death
She knows them all
For they sustain her
They are her life

Her garment, ****** yet while
Blows in the gentle breeze of dusk
Sending her scent
To men
Chasing after her
Lusting, wanting, longing
Insane, dying
For just one kiss
From her lips
One caress from her gentle hands
To lie in her *****
To forever sleep, to fade away
There, in the arms of my love,
The love of my life
Love of my soul
Love of my heart
So
Requiescat in pace
Let us, let them, let him, let me
Rest there in eternal peace
May God have mercy on our souls.

I remember seeing you
8 hours after my plane landed.
8 hours later,
My liver cursed me.
A bottle of whiskey.
I can't stand whiskey.
I couldn't come the next morning.
Hangover.
Cried myself to sleep
something pushed me out of bed 
I had to be there that evening.
the vultures...
By your side 
They were already planning your funeral,
Wait
Vultures is too noble term for them
At least vultures had the decency 
to await their victim's death a few feet away.
I picked up your bible
In hopes reading it out loud 
Would disperse the hovering birds
I started at psalms 23
Then 24
Some long forgotten lesson
Crept up 
Unsummoned 
it timidly knocked
I ignored it till the end of 25
Then it hit me
****!
Psalms 23... A dying man's last rites...
I kept reading with one hope
That I was wrong
I kept reading ,
And for  first time in 10 years I prayed
To a God I believed 
Had only our misery at heart
Then that deep breath from you
Almost a sigh
Then the silence
I called out to you
Once again a boy of 6
Wanting his father
mum took one look at me 
told me to wait outside
The tone of voice 
Last I heard when I was 8
A tone of voice
 that demanded obedience
The nurse came in
I waited outside
Clutching his bible
I kept reading
Words that rang hollow
To a God who I thought could care less
The my mother came out
I knew before she told me
Telling my brothers was easy
I don't remember breaking down
Till I told my sister
I couldn't look her in the eye
Couldn't tell her
The man she expected
 to walk her down the  aisle
Was dead.
This was more or less what you left
A boy stuck in a man's body
A fatherless bride
A widow
And two young gentlemen 
who you'd be proud of
So I sit now and write
Of that evening
When I read to you in your sleep
When I read as I once did 
When I was a child.
You always said you loved 
the sound of my voice.
that evening in February 
When I reached the end
Of psalms 27
And you reached the end
Of your life

Surprising the resilience
Of the human frame
'gainst ev'ry ailment
That's thrown it's way
Yet something as plain
As heartache's pain
Turns warrior to maiden
Prince to sobbing princess
The strongest of minds
To the king of fools

I look out into the world and see all this beauty
And my heart runs wild
As sensations I’ve never imagined rush through it
And I want so badly to create these wonders
I want to mould beauty
So I start
Eager, young, naive
I begin
Trying, working, struggling
My teacher shows me how
I try some more
A kind soul corrects me
I continue trying
But before I show anyone my beauty
I see a version more perfect
More beautiful
And I let mine fall
I wake up
No longer young
or naïve
or eager
Doubtful,
Aged,
I wake
my dream shatters
I let it fall
And I sit and try to shed tears
But can’t for I am too old for that
I sit
watching this version of beauty pass by
I know you will say
We should not compare ourselves with others
You will say
there will always be greater and lesser people than ourselves.
But in truth
what is to be human?
To live amongst people
To be thankful when around those with less
To find it hard to do the same when those arond have more.
I know you will say
We each have our type of beauty,
One we can give,
One that will move someone,
One that will belong to someone
It will be their version of beauty
Their perfection
And I think
I decide that you are right
I pick up my pieces
Get back to work
Finally I’m done
My beauty is perfect in my eyes
I lock it away in a place where none can find it
I keep it.
Once in a while
I look at it
Once in a while
It moves me
Once in a while
It makes me smile
For none else can see it and find fault in it
None else can crush it
Since it is mine
I can never destroy it
Once in a while
It’s my perfection,
My beauty


I say all this
But I Lie to myself
For each time I look at my beauty
Look at my perfection
It looks dull
Unpolished
And no matter how hard I want to try
Always unfinished.
Though I have all the time in the world.
It hurts
I am my own worst judge.
Beauty is the reason we create
Why the vampire lives forever
Why a single note of the orchestra
freezes hearts for one breath
Why a simple melody will move souls
Yet stop the evening breeze from being felt
They are all perfect
that’s what I want
Laughable
How can I possibly get there?
What was I thinking
Assuming.
I should just let it fall one last time
For beauty is clearly not meant to come from me
Just observed,
Some are made to create beauty
I was made to be moved by it.
So what do we do then?
For I had dedicated my life to creating beauty
Now what?
Why did I have to see their beauty?
Why did I foolishly look?
For the funny part is
They are my image,
or maybe I’m the cheap imitation of theirs.

It's funny the things that catch our eye.
My boarding pass and passport are over checked
Student ID,
Admission letter four years old,
Father's death certificate,
My marriage certificate,
Endless documents,
To prove I'm not a threat.
He  waltzes through without a blink.
No boarding pass checked,
No passport in hand,
No red flags raised.
I'm sure it's illegal,
But they don't ask
Or maybe they won't.
I'm the one they check,
The one they search.
3 hours.
Are these your suitcases?
Unpack the suitcase
who packed the suitcase?
Each item scanned
Where was the suitcase after it was packed?
swab,
wait,
second swab,
wait again.
third swab,
That had better be for good luck.
(more attention than the blarney stone)
Did anyone give you any gifts to bring?
Repack,
Rush through check-in.
Second security check,
Go to line 3.
Unpack hand luggage,
Laptop, tablet, phone, chargers, data cables
Scanned individually,
Take off shoes,
Walk through metal detector,
Three swabs more for good measure,
Repack,
Rush to gate
Already boarding
Finally in my seat.
He takes 15 minutes.
It's funny how his time 8-tuples,
When we travel together.
I may be his ben zug,
I may speak their language without the dreaded Mivtah*,
but I still don't belong.
It's funny the things that catch our eye.

There has to be more to life
than the elaborate mix
of endorphin, serotonin and dopamine.
There has to be more to this moment
than that seductive dance
between fight, flight and adrenaline.
There has to be more to each instance
than the tantalizing stroke of color on the palette of the eye
or the soothing spice of music that brings us to sighs.
More to it than the anticipation of a lover's caress,
or the murmur of a long forgotten scent.
More to it than the cringing from death,
the constant race from pain,
fear
of cigarette smoke, radiation,
gluten and epidemics.
More to it than tears and kittens,
Bougainvillea bushes and hot-rods.
Treasure hunts, graffiti,
date nights and shopping malls.
There has to be more,
for if there isn't,
Why are we so afraid to let "This" go?
Why are we so afraid to die?

When doors were crushed
With fires breath
and 30,000
marched to their death
When screams rang bright
And hate rang true
And souls ran black
as midnight's hue

When books were burned
And shelves were bare
And  broken glass glittered
Through  winter's air
And cries rang out
despair and fear
unsated hate
unending tears


then chants resound
And rooms are bared
And dried blood glitters
In street lamps' glare
And cries ring out
both loud and true



When rockets flew
And silence blared
and bombs blew
Through autumn air
Yet all is fair
Yet all is fine
For hate
is war is love
Is just

Silver linings
Are dreams of clouds
Yet with a sliver of silver
We take to the skies

The angels ask us
To keep their silence
The price for our forbidden flight
But enamored by beauty
Befuddled by grace
we are forever chasing after
that which we wish were

A dozen glass roses
velvet lined stairs
Glass ballroom slippers
Pearls in our hair

Slivers of longing
Are what we have left
The angels disapprove
Silence is broken
The vow unfulfilled

A dozen gold roses
To pave all the stairs
and golden glass slippers
To match our hair

Silence lingers
We are struck blind
The angels turn their backs to us
The gates of heaven are closed
Not even the holiest of days
Will cleanse our souls

Goyim
Infidels
******

a dozen red roses
Line the graves to the stairs
They shattered our slippers
And tore out our hair

Every love story under the sun
Has been told,
spun
unfolded
Be it gypsy ladies' bets
On the hearts of men
Or children's games
With daggers and poison
But with each story
Truth unravels
Romance, passion and lust
What good is a face
That sets sail a thousand ships
If it doesn't save a single soul

It seems all i can get high on now is cigarettes,

sitting in the bathroom,

alone

it’s kind of sad

i cant even get high on alcohol

maybe if i overdo it

and even then i dont’ have any fun

i miss you

and getting high

simply on life and oxygen

and each other

when we meet

shall we dance

or shall we ****

or shall we **** and dance

a sublime melding of body and music

surreal

like cigarette smoke in the bathroom mirror

will you let me lead

to heaven

to hell

through the valley of death

through the shadow of light

i will be your angel of death

or love

or light

whatever you ask of me i will give

or do

or be

except being an eternity from you

the creeping cold

the moon madness

searching for a face in the stars

yet not knowing who I search for

then finally staring at the stars

at the shadow of light

at the valley of death

like smoke in a mirror

ethereal

body and music divided

**** and dance

****

dance

final meeting

life is oxygen

final "high"

one last cigarette

kind of sad

alone

in the bathroom

****.....why can’t i get high.

A flower,
Blood-red, fiery, blazing yet not burning,
Grows from the earth


Watered by the blood and tears
Of dying children clutched to the
The ******* of their mothers’ skeletons


Planted in soil
Rich with the bones of soldiers, of warriors,
Of fathers, brothers and sons long dead


Aired by the final breath
Of a thousand innocent souls
Crying in anguish
Screaming in pain
Fading into nothingness
Dying away.


Growing
Developing in all its beauty,
All its deadly beauty,
Death’s flower of doom,
The lily of the valley of death
Death’s ever beautiful
Ever lovely,
Ever deadly rose of sharon.
War.

My old life called today
To ask how I was
Missed a doctors appointment
His sister died
The doctor's sister that is
No idea whats wrong with me
If it hasn't killed me yet
I guessed it wouldn't **** me 
for two more months
Till I see my doctor at least
My old life called 
Old,
Dissatisfied
Lonely
We decided we saw each other too soon
My old life called as my new life sat by me
I moved on
So why does it hurt to hear the pain in his  voice

I have forgotten how to weave worlds
To knead words
And with a twist of inflection
A hint of intent
Send them spinning
A veritable solar system
Please give them back
I can't do without
These baubles
My imaginary worlds

I've dreamt that i never woke
Dreamt that i died in my dreams
dreamt of people who left long ago
and heard their laughter ,
had them walk with me
and tell me my time had not yet come
I have dreamt of lands
where magic and mystery are the norm
yet science rules.
i have dreamt of lands
where treachery is common place
and trickery is valued
where honor is dead
and chivalry is a virtue of fools
a world where i dare not stay longer than a night
for i wouldn't last a day
so why do i never want to return
to the land of the waking?

Athena

And a thousand kisses
with a thousand lies
line a thousand fears
with a thousand sighs
and a thousand lessons
just a thousand words
put a thousand ideas
into  a thousand worlds
while a thousand minds
draw a thousand breaths
like a thousand tears
o'er a thousand deaths
for a thousand vows
raise a thousand cries
to a thousand answers
and a thousand skies
change a thousand answers
soothe a thousand cries
now a thousand vows
die a thousand deaths
shed a thousand tears
steal a thousand breaths
**** a thousand minds
on a thousand worlds
what's a thousand ideas
just a thousand words
lose a thousand lessons
breath a thousand sighs
live a thousand fears
of a thousand lies
and a thousand kisses

Eirene

That moment you feel
like your reality is held together by
mis-laced bits of duct tape and chewing gum
that borderline twilight
dancing between sanity and rage
the seams slowly unraveling
the cloth comes undone
revealing naked truth beneath
that we are all stark raving mad
who'd want to stay alive
in this hell hole
we call a world

I asked him why he loved me
I said I was hysterical
A drama queen
Hypochondriac
What did he see in me
He replied
After a swig of dry red wine
My love
You're talking nonsense again

I wish I could whisper
sweet nothings into his ear
But he hates kitch
Loathes sentiment
And besides
He's hard of hearing

Does there have to be purpose to life
Can't we gallop like the waves
Without giving meaning to each crest,
Each turn
Each meeting with the shore
For like foam
We vanish in the blink of an eye
A lifetime gone in one wave
So why search for meaning
Why try gain deeper meaning
Eternal truth
Or the ever elusive One love

Give me your tired,
Give me their dreams to crush for my bread
Give me  your poor
let me drain their life's blood
give me Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
And I will give them eternal sleep
Smothered against my *****,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore
I will allow to crumble to dust.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door
and set fire to their bones.

Don't worry about the inevitable
Water washes away sand
Life blossoms then fades
We fear loneliness
More than the inevitability of death
Rumors of war
Over war itself
We carve
Versions of perfection
Out of marble tombstones
And call them beauty, love and peace
Simple marrionettes
Dancing to the bone grinder's endless call

I'm lost and I don't know my way
The sky is hidden from me
I can't find my northern star
I do not long for ecstasy
Nor crave eternity
I desire oblivion
the halting of all emotion
Love, sorrow, joy , hate
The silence that preceded
The universe's birth
that will once more be heard at her death
In memory of my legacy
Forget me

empty echoes,
why aren't you here
why did you never hear my voice
why did you never hear me sing
the raging child
sobs himself to sleep
wondering how he will continue
wondering how you could leave him
without as much as an "encore!"
at his first concert
It's selfish
Him expecting you to somehow
get over the pain of your chemotherapy
and come walking in majestically
to the front row of his performance
but what are children
but selfish

was magst du
in diese heilige zeit
Was magst du
in diese dunkle nacht

Mit verringertem atem
und geschlossenen augen
mit schallgedämmt Gebet
und vergeudete Stunden

in diesem dunkle stunden
mit tränen und liebes und leiden
Was macht du liebling
was macht du schatz
was Sie auf der Suche nach

The maiden the mother the hag
The girl the woman the crone
Grace to beauty to death
Tears to sweat to bone

It didn't matter
That i could outyell him
That when he forced his way in
I forced my way out
That when he grabbed my throat
I threw him off
Held him down
Told him it was over
It didn't matter
It didn't matter that i "won"
It still hurt

The sun plays through the window
dances on the railroad tracks
giving every color a distinct hue
Other-worldly
for a moment - Escape
Maybe I should play on the tracks as well
If just to discover
what it is
the sun finds there

And some fell by the wayside
Their hearts hard as stone
Yet claiming to be flesh
These were torn out
Eaten by birds then crushed
for that is all rock is good for
Crushing into dust

Why is it when we ****
It's ******
When He kills
It's judgment?
Why is it when we take by force
It's theft
yet when He takes by force
It's reclaiming?
Why is it when we rage
It is sin
yet when He rages
it is righteous?
How is it that when we forgive
We remember
But when He forgives
He forgets?
It could be that He is perfect
He did say it was good.
So, why is man flawed?
Why would the embodiment of perfection
Create the imperfection
The colossal mistake
That is man?

Spring teaches us
About innocent romance
Summer
About unsated lust
Autumn
About a lover's warming embrace
And winter
About the art of smoking cigarettes slower
For humidity tends to **** up tobacco's flammability.

I watched the sea today
And felt the absence
Of one
To lean my head against
As the sun set
One who's hand I would hold
As the waves played  against the rocks
But I remembered
We were like them
Forever playing
Crashing into each other
One slowly eating away at the other.
Was it worth it?
I wonder
Then again
Waves are just waves
Sunsets just sunsets
And rocks are simply rocks.

A blank slate
A slate wall
A wall blocking
Why can't I get around
Frustration
Where's the magic button
Others had flower gardens
Muses of sort
why don't these work for me
Stand and walk
Two words...
**** and chair
******* overrated
Pop a brewski
Gas twists and twirls
God that bottle neck looks inviting
Magic button found
Wall lifts
Beer almost dropped
Rush
Flash of images
Flash of color
Caught in the middle of the scene
A man expected to reproduce a Rembrandt
A Rembrandt on notepad paper
Slight pause for dramatic effect
Then.....
The words fly
The smile creeps
Manic
Exhilarating
Skipping between minds
Different people
Different places
Same time. 
Different times
Legalized schizophrenia
The wall is lifted
the slate is filled

The one thing
All men
Strive to please

I stopped dreaming a long time ago.
Hoping was replaced by survival,
Imagination by the grey grind of life.
I gave up.
I don't want to dream.
I fear the colors;
Blinding, dazzling, befuddling.
I don't want to hope,
I know I have to wake up
once dawn's bleak shadows
darken my window once more.
is it possible to sleep
if you're afraid of dreaming

I swore i would never turn into my father
That weak, sorry excuse for a man
I swore I would nev end up like him
Then he died
I Began to notice things
It started with his nervous tick
That insietent biting of my lowere lip
Then in my stride,
 a slight buoyancy 
A cross between a spring and stroll
Then laugh
Somehow joyous 
Uninhibited
Seeming to carry in it all the joy of the universe
Wrapped in one moment
Then the worrying began
Wanting to keep those I loved safe
So though I swore I would  never to turn into that weak, kind, gentle , sweet man
I did.

With age comes wisdom,
      Yet so many die,
         Before their time,
            By their hand,
A society that measures them
     By the quantity of their success
          Not the quality of their being
We notice decay and adore youth
      Clothes are skin thick and needle deep
            Human life is cheap
               To be used
                  Discarded
Like so many cans of soda
      Drained to the last drop
          Whatever remains
             Dries out in the summer
                     Freezes over in the winter
And they wonder why we are cold
        Why we are heartless
               Why we use
                                                       You taught us this.
The young
   The beautiful
        Whoever said we have it easy
               Should have been hung by his toes
         And left for the crows
     Maybe if they took his eyes
He would know a fraction of our pain

The sharp stab through the hip
the shimmers that blind me
that only I can see
a curse
the “burn”
each whispered word
whether done through the veil of morphine
or the sharp crisp 1048 dpi view
that a mere migraine gives
everything I do is laced with pain
it defines my going out
my coming in.
it defines my every move
Some deformed Alexander technique
that worsens every day
that makes me who I am
that moulds me.
I live with pain
And pain is mine.

Dreams
Like voice teachers
And fathers
Have their purpose

Dreams
Like insecure voice teachers
And fathers
Have their faults

Dreams
Like voice teachers
And fathers in hospital
Come at a price

Dreams
Like old voice teachers
And fathers with cancer
Die

See the cruelty of it all
**** that pig
Cut his throat
Spill her blood
The poison can be felt in the air
Permeating everything
The stench of hate
The baying for blood
All in the name of some imaginary friend
That demands blood
in exchange for
a ******, 72 mansions
a heaven on this earth we already destroyed.

The hearts of people are like flowers.
They are beautiful
They grow everywhere
They are strong
In the sun, they shine
In the wind, they dance
But whether a rose or a poppy
When cut, they die
When crushed, they wilt
When the storms pass
They can be torn
Maybe after the rain they will grow again.


הלבבות של אנשים הם כמו פרחים.
הם יפים
הם גדלים בכל מקום
הם חזקים
בשמש, הם מאירים
ברוח, הם רוקדים
המין לא מניין
אבל
כשחתך, הם מתים
כשנמחץ, הם נובלים
כשסוער, הם קורעים
אולי אחרי הגשם הם יגדלו שוב.

***
Supposedly
Solves everything it
Seems

In a number of bits
The human race has confined
The most complex of emotions
To one line
& #9825;
♡

With a twist and a turn
Not of this world
Her coat is unclasped
And slides down to the floor
It's her song
Weaving itself
Over mumbled words
Through cigarette smoke
She moves,
Her body ,water
The air, her vessel
Se possesses every atom
That dares touch her
The first notes still playing
Her feet find the centre of the room
A slight pause
Then the first beat
The first note of the first verse
Giving itself to her
The virginal sacrifice.
She takes it
And the next
And the next
A goddess
Greedy for her pound of flesh
Each note absorbed
Entwined selfishly with her essence
She winds each round her ankle
And slowly
They rise
First seeking out her calf
Then her knee
Then her thigh
Then....
Then she begins
Water flows
Becoming the one thing
Every being strives to please
With honed patience she captures all
Forming her banks
Her slightest of moves
Carving an unseen light about her
Marking her
A brand not seen
Yet it draws the eye
Then your soul
And with the music to herself
Not letting one thing
Escape her now heaving breast
She curves
The soul curves
She moves
The music moves
She is the melody
She plays
It's the music that dances to her.

Slit our wrists ,
Cut our throats,
Spill our blood.
Twenty more will stand where we each stood,
Ready to entertain you.
The cycle continues,
It must.
Why imagine things that go bump in the night,
When men can invent a far more chilling hell?

I know I'm not losing you
So why does it hurt so
We will meet again
In the month of may
When the buds turn to dust
When the roses bloom
And the rivers run
I know I'm not losing you
But it still breaks my heart to leave

The old never learn from their mistakes
The young are busy making theirs
Growing up
Growing old
We'll never learn will we