I see your beautiful mouth as you edge forward.
Your lips open, almost caressing the mic
And then honey pours out.

Your lyrics curl around those sitting here
Like smoke from a lone cigarette in a tray
And bind us all together.

Eyes close with tender inflection
Dragging us into his pain, again and again.
The music ends and his pain is gone

But will resurface the next time he sings.

I smell the damp earth.
The scent rises into my nostrils.
Under this pine rain drips down
Dimpling the ground all about me.

Some distant bird flutters up
Making a whirring, whistling sound.
It echoes across the field of thoughts,
Brings me back to my reality.

That truth is sharp and pain-filled.
It stealthily digs under your skin.
You are gone, but life continues.
Tell me it does.  Your answer, "Life,

It is in the scent of earth,
The whirring of the distant bird,
The dimpling of raindrops on soil.
And in each molecule of the universe."

You invaded minds
Like a brain-worm
Munched your way
Until all is in decay

He is like a cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong

Alternate version:
Mania Munch
He is like a zombie cannibal
Who consumes the strongman
Because he thinks it will make him strong
And then wears the skin, because
He believes he can embody its strength
He drinks from the skulls of his many victims
As he consumes their life's blood
And cares not a modicum, nor understand
Other people's fears, feelings, or lives, for
He is incapable of actual feeling or love
All he can do is feed his many manias
You must have a heart to be human

My heart holds no reason
Other than this love
Eros fills my senses
Agape guides my way

No reasoning with my heart
Though I talk to it
Love for you remains
Mania, mania, mania

My heart needs no other reason
My love is a golden apple
Ripe for the bite
That your lips might

O, that your sweet lips might

Mountain crocus'
Reach purple arms
Towards the sky
Spring twinkles
In their yellow eyes

They walked into the booth
“Pulled the lever,” pull out their gun
Then shoot themselves in the foot

And hobble away.

Now these days, as they slap themselves
Upside the head it is heard them say,
"I could have had a V8!"