there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

Who will pen my 'final page of poetry' when I'm called home ?
Will someone render an epilogue to my life's work when my time is done ? Our ghost encapsulated in flesh continues forward at the moment of physical death , therefore I implore of anyone to define for me what constitutes 'the end ?'

Jewels of our country,
Gems of the world,
Every child in their own
differs and holds an astounding talent,
A devastating day on 16 December,
Last year kids were martyred to death,
Victimizing their families and friends,
They will always reside in our hearts,
They will always be our shining stars,
Our countries honor and pride,
Those souls in heaven will shine so ever bright,
Their smiling faces in peace,
Will ease the pain in their mothers heart,
Satisfy their father,
And stand as audacious children for our nation,
You will always be remembered,
And will always own a huge slot in our soul,
Our tears that we shed for you,
Will not be meaningless,
And these tools will help stand against those savages,
Making them pay till the day we all live,
And slay their heads off in terms of decay.