A lifetime is a lot of days,
A lot of places, a lot of faces;
A lot of hours, to fill and fill
With sad and happy social graces.

A lifetime is a lot of days,
A lot of lovers, both May and December;
But just remember, as you near the end-
You've forgotten much more, than you'll ever remember.

Kami-Kaze dinner test
This is a test of the emergency Kami-Kaze dinner alert
If this were a real emergency,
You would have been instructed where to go
And what to do next;
But as this is just a test,
Please pick up your napkins
And arrange them comfortably on your laps.

Begin the salad or soup course,
Picking up the correct utensils when the main course appears,
Don't forget to sniff for the delicate aromas-
Wait, hold it-hold it-hold it.
Hold on for just a dad-gummed minute there:
No shish-kebobs allowed on the menu!
Kami-Kazes just love shish-kebobs..
(Heads are gonna roll for this one)
This is no longer a test;
Get ready now, everyone

Dive beneath the table now
Fast as you can,
This is no joke, no;
This is real, as real as it gets
Come on-
Push aside the table cloth,
Bend down, bend down quickly
Forehead to knees, and hold your breath,
Just like you were taught years ago in school-
And prepare to kiss the pork ****, goodbye.

Change waits for the dawn
Like a revocable feeling.

Clouds turn gestures into shadow
Like a phantom ceiling.

Waves tear open ocean’s belly
So Moon can see inside.

When walls burn, it’s freedom smoking:
It lives where walls can’t hide.

Moments of laughter; a star is missing-
You can find it in someone’s eyes.

Skies shed water just like weeping
Wherever a rainbow sighs.

Your far forgotten hands and face
Fly past the door, past earthly embrace
Where soul runs it’s sleep-flying dreams aground
And then on past the deep blue refrain we breathe,
Past kisses that could slay the need
Of the missing man’s loneliest journeys.

Moon still makes the old darkness come alive,
And the skies sun-wizened words still left some light;
Enough to brand new eyes of a child,
Or enough for finding dreams of peace
Hidden within a many colored world;
Or reflecting forever-stars, worn on a lapel,
As if living till the end really mattered at all.

There’s a humming above the rain
Evil sinners plot against the land,
Fly buzzing ghouls, adrift the spirit
But above all, I remain a man.

Alas the wind had died
So small beneath the mast,
Alack, to the devil must go
Sundry memories that pass.

So brilliant beneath the dreamscape,
Quaking stares above the fire.
Be watchful; the vision's going
Smoking ruin inside the pyre.

Shift to intangible, across the water
Without a backward glance;
Shimmering pinpoints in the distance,
That hollowed, ghostly dance.

Ancient air beneath the stars,
Spilling under midnight's face,
Every glowing, hanging cloud
Is an amulet’s silvered trace.

Cast from broken spells of moonlight
Clinging to the pearly beams,
Like unseen spiders spinning silks
To pin a fairy's silver wings.

While she gilds the waiting dawn
With what the newborn angels sing,
In sunrise colors newly minted
For the newborn day they bring.

Morning always comes too soon,
Whether you are loathe or loving;
Moon withdraws her silver spoon
And we’re back, to push-and-shoving.

Morning always comes too soon;
No matter if you grieve or sing,
Minutes to think are never enough,
And time to sit and do nothing.

Morning always comes too soon,
And some might like to slow it down,
But time to some’s their only boon-
And just enough, for some to drown.