sometimes the words travel
down a necessary path of self discovery
that bends and twist through
mountains of expression
before they are ripe to be picked

but sometimes the quickest way
from point B to point A
is a straight line

sleep, I need you dearly
                                  why
                    ­            do
                          you
                   hold
            back
      from
me?
my eyes are sluggish and
          
             I am overbearingly weary
                                                   why
                                                 do
                                           you
                                     hide
                             away
                    from
             me?
             oh, how can you not see me
                            
                          in this pale haze, I'm dreary
                                                          ­         why
                                                             ­    do
                                                          you
  ­                                                   lie
                                          awake
           ­                         with
                            me?
   ­                      you drown me, I am dying...

the gentle showers
bring soft and quiet hours
and water flowers

Why does the sun
Bother to get up
When all his children
Can't stand the sight of him

Society is a mortician.

It will try to make your life a coffin.

Then it will try to make you fit.

If you don't, it will gladly
cut off, your arms, legs and brain
so that you do.

Do not allow it. Be your full self.

Stretch your limbs; use your brain.

When the time comes, lie down and
stretch out on the rich earth whole.

Laugh at the mortician. Die like
a warrior, the same as you lived.

  ~mce