Serene, float among green growth,
Buds desire to open, join the flotilla.
Gentle one, you are like the waterlily
Which grow across the surface,
The still surface of my pond.

I am the sun setting in spectacular glory.
You are the warm Gulf waters caressing
As you wash along my ragged shoreline
Lovingly lapping late into a humid evening.

I hear the soft whooshing, smell the brine,
Watch the shorebirds returning home,
Hear the earnest, varied calls and cries,
As they with singular intent soon disappear.

How dear you all are to me.

There will be birds
Flying through my dreams
Diving like ballerinas
Dancing on bright wings
There will be birds seen

As they cross the sky's path
From one place to the next pass
To carry secretly away the past
And lead to the future's next
Birds will be there,

To always fly me free

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