Just raw money I gather from this job
Though mirthfulness is not depraved quite yet
I still face fear in the face of the mob
The clouds seem darker once this job is set

The menaced eyes parading me around
This only leads me to be successful
And while I can't say I have higher ground
Thus far, it's not having been so stressful.

The mob comes flocking in at crack of dawn
Awaiting for the food they seek that day
They always bite the hand that feeds them, brawn
I haven't cared enough to go away

Yes, giving food to them can be quite hard
But it at least beats not being a bard

The smell of fresh cut grass that you have mowed
A lollipop with flavor painful, ****
The signal traffic has to let you go
A thumb on men who give plants great kick-starts

The middle of a rainbow, warm and cold
A long square with fuzz on a table for pool
The mark on the root of all evil that's sold
A moss-covered abandoned private school

The things you see once trekking through the woods
A pond lies ankle-high within this place
The bits of algae below where you stood
A frog that jumps in front of your shocked face

There still are many things we've not yet seen
Pertaining to the wonderful color green

There are small galaxies in salt grains
And sandbags in superclusters.
An arm extends from the minor and one punches from the major.
In a light state of being both little and big,
one hand tells me I'm major
Another tells others they're minor.
Both hands nontheless hit hard.
One much like a thron bush
The other like a lotus flower.
Neither major, both minor.

Dust you came from
"Under all this stress?"
Stressing is what most people do
That is still where you came from.

And you will return to ash, too.
"So? I can just keep kicking."
Hell if you don't, and I encourage it.

There was once a man who said to me,
"I came here through means unknown."
His speaking stopped and I looked.  
Fifty once-men walked in synthesis to his unspoken words.
Somewhere, calliope music played tunes,
echoing current affairs.
I froze a while, seeing another one.
What was once a friend barely seen anymore.
What is their eye worth if I can't recall it?
Blues, browns and greens  stopped mattering.
But I do remember the mouth,
its upward curves especially.
It was a shadow to old times sake
and an homage to memories.
One flash of light later.

Upon finding myself in bed,
sweat had never seemed so comforting.

Without much romance I can still
Love those around me
But there was one person who made it worse
All these junkies surround me

Oh, I'm not saying I'm not one
Four pills in the morn'
But each time I see another needle
I keep wanting to mourn

Months had passed with no site
She was gone for good
I kept looking out my window
Smelling rotting wood

Maggots in the walls they stayed
With no sign of leaving
I had to accept that they were there
I had stopped believing.

Her eyes were very similar to ice
Although I could not say the same about her face
Oh, yes, I saw what was hidden in those pupils
And when I gazed in them, I felt like a disgrace

But years had passed and I grew fond
Ineptly I kept gazing into them
And I did notice her face was icy, after all
Cold, slick and for that I condemn

The crackled features of her eyes started becoming bold
And watching them, I never grew tired.
Beading, burning, sparkling red.
They'd shifted from ice to fire.