Once at the guillotine

Now an out-of-focus angel

"Crime is shame, not the scaffold!"

She's got a '45 strapped

To each of her thighs

Speaks French with a Martian accent

Wishes she was a siren

When bathed in happy thoughts

Wishes she was the ladybird

When her wings

Confuse amuse transfuse

Into dreams of blood

Lukewarm prisoner

Detained for seven years

Now lies beside her

Asking for a helping hand

She loosens her corset

But tightens her grip

Father thank you for this day
that comes softly and quietly
I stretch and yawn in my way
enjoying my coffee silently.
Watching Venus light the morn
before Old Sol takes reign
as the rays on the hills adorn
just as you first ordained.
I take up your book and read
the gospel is full of good news
your words are  mighty indeed
in me - the Spirit renews.
The world continues to falter
confusion and chaos and hate
people have left from your altar
abandoned themselves to fate.
I still pray and repent of my sin
I still ask for forgiveness from you
you've erased where once I had been
forgotten the man I once knew.

If I give you love
what will I get in return?
will it be acknowledged?
or will it be but spurned?
If I offer my love
will you be mine forever?
or will you laugh at me
and say to me   - not ever.
Am I just a fool in love?
head over heels and blind?
silly and sheepish, blushing
not knowing what's in my mind?
I stand on the steps of happiness
worried, lest I fall
falling at your feet
all curled up in a ball.
Columbus took a chance
and by God - he did all right
I cannot leave you now
without putting up a fight.
I smiled and said I love you
my voice began to crack
but your eyes lit up I swear
as you smiled at me right back!

dawn breaks
eyes open
another day
a little taller but
weaker too
they do say it gets
better
but is better
ever
enough?

She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.