Staring through the cracks in the wall
no one knows that I'm here
lost track of days, being alone
caught in the grips of fear
left my home to find my way
captured and tortured, ransom to pay
all my dreams ,drifting away
maybe I can see the sun today

The vision slot which is my own
opens briefly just at dawn
angry eyes look inside
making sure that I abide
all day long and night too
I pray to God, I'll see you
I pray today although it seems in vain
How long can I bear this mental strain

Flights of fancy keep me free
of all the pain that I feel
I just wish someone could see
what had happened ,comfort me
but life has dealt me this hand
traveling alone in a foreign land
easy picking's for the thugs
just another ******* stunt

I was warned  of what dangers lay
yet I alone chose to stay
so I wonder who's fault this is
I alone am to blame for this
I know the pain this brings at home
poor old parents all alone
would give it all to be with them
not fearing if I will ever see home

again

jacobnfhhffrrj

The Muses keep coming
putting rhymes in my head
begging me to share these things
not only with my friends
the spirit does give wisdom
but you must lend a hand
just open up and let them use
your unsteady hand

What makes the Muses choose you
no one can really say
but I think what matters most
is getting them to stay
for insight is their specialty
a guiding light of truth
just like musicality
you just let it flow right through

Perhaps you will reach the one
whom needs your message most
or maybe someone reads it
and uses it to quote
whatever is the reason
the Muses knew ahead
they composed and stuck the message
deep inside your head

I think that they've been here
since the ancient times
giving us a helping hand
by leading us, the blind
they taught us how to survive
they taught us how to sing
they even taught us what life is
and how to live in harmony

But most have forsaken
these voices from within
and go about their daily lives
living on a whim
Listen to the voices
not the ones that drive you mad
listen closely to the ones
that comfort you in bed

I can not imagine
a life with out them there
how does one  express themselves
when no one really cares
it must be a horrid life
to face the drudgery
without a way to ease the pain
or an outlet for release

So thank the Muses
for their gift
they surely do deserve
all the thanks that comes their way
recognition above all
for the contributions
they have made today
giving me the words
and you something to say

Turns out we had a visitor
sometime after dark
the little puke
walked in our door
and then he did make off
not only with my things
but some cash as well
then left my stuff all strewn
all over my front stair

it was not a nice way
to wake up I'll say
looking upon the mess
that greeted me today
I calmly gathered all my things
out of the drifting snow
I proceeded to curse
to myself looking at the snow

I thought maybe she did it
probably ****** at me
then I saw my daughters stuff
laying there by me
I gathered all her things
and brought them in as well
I didn't really want
to stir the *** this morn
so i went about getting
my **** on out the door

I worked all day
a nervous wreck
rehearsed a thousand things to say
what I would say and she would do
as I sent her on her way
When I got through the door
I asked her" what the hell!"
Then my daughter abruptly said
"Dad it wasn't her"
I went downstairs to check my room
I was sad to see.my fretless bass was gone
then it suddenly appeared
that I had been all wrong

I hope that there is
a special place in hell
for people that rip others off
and still sleep so well
for not only do the take
some material things
you are left also robbed of
perhaps the greatest thing
your sense of comfort
and well being
your faith in humanity

looking out my window
slightly dreamily
my thoughts  start to wander
to friendship
and what that means
having someone to share
all those special things
why can't we just get along
like Lennon sings

greatly appreciated
are the simple things
that this life can teach us
if we are willing
to listen very carefully
to what is really said
get the true meaning
behind  each word that is sent

But far too often
we fail to really see
caught up in selfish desires
intent on our own needs
when our actions
wound a soul
it never is repaired
all that we can really do
is move on hoping we learned

I have come to realize
that there is no other way
concentrate on being the one
to waken a new day
I have lived my past  a fool
but now I am awake
pay attention to the ones you love
or the price you'll pay
of sitting all alone
at the window
wondering.......

I wonder why
you don't like me at times
I only give you
what the bell gives the chime

Of all the old tales
and folklore alike
vampires , werewolves
and ghouls delight
the one which I fear
even to this day
the witch of the north
Windigo is it's name

The natives hold true
the stories they tell
of the forlorn ghoul
floating through the trees
howling out its warning
to those who will heed
to those who don't
their flesh it will eat

This was the tale told to me
by my good friend Yves
tramping around the northern woods
in the fall of'70
Yves was not a man
to scare easily
he laughed and scoffed
at tales of thing he could not see

My blood it did freeze
on that last October eve
when the wind began to howl
on all hallows eve
the sound seemed to come alive
whipping up the leaves
the only one who showed no fear
was my good friend Yves

We had come up north
to survey the scene
checking into stories
of people missing
the guides we brought
we thought were stout
turned out not to be
all but one,cried aloud
and ran into the trees

Young Gaston and Yves
surveyed the scene
howling wind and  screaming
then the wind died
and silence took hold
Oh how they talked so bold
they cursed at the trees
and taunted the leaves

Breaking the silence
was a keening wail
the fury of which
I still can hardly tell
the sound shook my bones
clear to my knees
it looked like it scared
even Gaston and Yves

I thought I saw
a fleeting mist
flowing through the trees
seeping, creeping
with a growl and a yell
the furies of hell
were unleashed around me
swirling about
a vortex of pain
I never seen
Gaston and Yves again

I searched for a sign
early next day
for what had become
of my friends you would say
all that I found
were bits of cloth
and some teeth
all that remained of
Gaston and Yves

Try as I might
the sight will not leave
my hair is now white
as you can plainly see
if you go to the north woods
you better beware
of the dangers and creatures
that do lurk there