In a tomb by the sounding sea
That’s where he waits for me
His lover long lost
Never to be beside again
Moans and wails and shrieks of horror
As that wickedly turning sea
Gracefully and steadily, it regurgitates me
His lover returning
But not quite the same
Gagging and choking and coughing up salt
Slimy skin from the waters embrace
A twisted grin of joy on his face
His out stretched arms
I stand at the shore line
With a glowing smile enticing
Laughing and crying he stumbles forwards
Water logged eyes shining bright
Knowing to him, I’m a glorious sight
Stopping just before my gentle touch
His smile fades as his mind catches up
Why won’t he come closer to me?
Hesitating and questioning his bride before him
His gut screams no but his heart pushes on
A whisper escapes ‘but you were meant to be gone’
I smile graciously as I reach for his hand
‘My sweet love, but I’m here now, follow me’
Holding and locking our fingers together
Turning to face the calmed, silent sea
Swallowing us whole to the depths to be free
In a tomb together, my lover and me

Sitting heavy on the sight
Filling her bones full of fright
Yet comfort and peace within
As she starts to feel some wind
The autumn leaves so damp together
Her bare feet in such cold weather
A tattered dress upon her figure
She calls to him and waits for answer
Time goes by and silence surrounds
Beating down like a hundred hounds
Till a sudden stir in the darkness nearby
As clouds roll in and cover the sky
Sneaking and creeping out of the dark
A man whose bite is worse than his bark
He takes her hand and twirls her about
Pushing away any fear or doubt
Holding her close and easing her pain
She sings to him, doing the same
Ballroom dancing in a graveyard scene
Keeping to the shadows to remain unseen
Sweet words and laughter fill the crisp air
And with each other, their hearts lay bare
Their bare feet in such cold weather
And the autumn leaves are so damp together
They start to feel the chilling wind
But warm from the peace within
The two of them, shining so bright
On a foggy autumn graveyard night

i sit and watch the fireflies flying in the night
with there tails a glow light a pretty neon light
flying through the dark like  diamonds in the sky
putting on a show as they gently fly
flashing of there colors oh so very bright
i love to watch the fireflies it such a wonderous site.

One of my favorite animals is a giraffe.
They're so awkward and lanky,
yet despite their strange appearance
there is a a grace in there gallivant;
there is a beauty to their mien.

They don't flaunt their attributes
or covet the patterns of their wildlife peers
because they have been graced with the privilege
to indulge in the secrets whispered by the leaves
amongst the tree tops.

When asked, "What colour is the sky?"
Most people answer, "Blue."
But I have a challenge
That I must ask of you:

Next time the sun is setting
Or's about to rise,
Look up, I ask of you,
Look up into the sky;

Tell me of the colours
Of the purple, red, and gold,
Floating in the wind,
In the sky so very bold.

Next time some mentions,
That the sky is blue,
Remember there are more colours
Which can inspire you

scared because i
know the
truth.

when God created love he didn't help most
when God created dogs He didn't help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when He created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low

when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time

He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.

TWO loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.

The name on one all men may read,        
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.

On one I plant a living flower,
And cherish it with loving hands;      
I shun the single withered leaf
That tells me where the other stands.

To that white tombstone on the hill
In summer days I often go;
From this white stone that nearer lies
I turn me with unuttered woe.

O God, I pray, if love must die,
And make no more of life a part,
Let witness be where all can see,
And not within a living heart.