A bush lark in the Greenwood forest sings.
She sings all day long near the mountain springs.
Is she trilling in notes so plaintive of her missing mate?
Unleashing her heart of its doleful weight?

Or easing the pangs of a heart that starves
For a soulmate yet to come for whom she craves?
Or sending a missive through the aerial route
Sounding in every ear a low melancholy note?

From the covert of dark leaves, her song percolates.
Through the sinews of my heart it permeates,
Striking a cord between two souls equally deprived,
Stirring in me an inarticulate ache, never once divulged.

Morning falls
from a budding
   cherry tree;

   the colour
of nightsong’s
waning blossom
   comes to be
       an echo
   only heard
   by the wind

Soundless remnants
   of an intimate
twilight odyssey
   tarry thickly,
drifting lightly
through the landscape
      of dawn

   The hushed echo
   wields the silent
         reverie
      of the night,
   gently rippling
   the rivers that run
   through the heart

The poignant taste
of passionfruit lingers
in the sensory traces
      of a warm
   passing breeze;

      penetrating
   the lonely chill
   of a naked night's
      work of art

                ~


           Jesse

Ride me fast like a racehorse
I’ll push you done on your knees
I love it when I hear you beg me “ baby please”
Speed it up faster
Then take it slow
Riding me in circles
Whipping me so
I’ll train you to do what I like
And I’ll return the favor
When you scream for more
Ride me fast like a racehorse
Baby beg for more
Coming fast to the ending
Both finishing number one...


        Baby, ride me fast like a racehorse...