The smell of ***
Is a memorable one.

You fix in me what is broken
What was stolen by those I trusted
What was lost at the ******'s hand
A hand that was his ****
A pain so carefully hidden and nurtured that I thought the pain was me.
You let me use your eyes and then I could finally see.
I wasn't to blame. I wasn't insane.
It wasn't a bad dream or a fantasy gone astray.
It was ****. That's the totality of what was done.
No softer word, no kinder thought.
They ***** me. For a time I thought it was my fault.
I drifted. Lost without a tether.
Through the darkest space and deepest valleys.
Sometimes I would chance upon a stream and see my reflection.
The boy who caused it, who deserved it, who must have liked it.
Otherwise why would they have done it? Again and again
And again and again and again again again again.
No fun to read, but try having lived it.
Sometimes I would find someone to cling to.
But I couldn't explain and they couldn't understand
Because I didn't understand. So they left.
And alone I would wonder, untethered.
My soul hiding, curled in a ball. Afraid of everyone
Especially those I loved. The ones who ***** me
The ones who didn't stop it.
Broken. Broken as a child. Broken as a boy.
Broken as a man. So broken I couldn't be a man.
Locked in pain. Locked in fear. With my broken pieces.
But you.
You fix what is broken inside me.

To the sea I must go,
To the deep, deep blue
To the sea I must go

And when I get There,
Somewhere, somewhere
When I get There

I will return to the clouds
And dance in your storms
Soak your skin and your bones

Your little daughter
Will fall asleep
To my lullabies

Your son will play
Underneath my downpour
Pitter-patter little feet

So I must go
To the sea, to the sea
I must go sometime very soon

Where the mermaids
Wait for me.

A rose is a rose,
No matter where it grows.
Some saw thorns,
Beauty some chose.
Criticized by some,
Valued by loads;
People's opinions,
You can't change them by force.
Perfection is desired,
Even if it's freestyle prose!
Our lives might be cumbersome,
Let's accept the challenges they pose;
There's a bit of stardust in us all,
No matter hellish situations might come how close,
because, *a rose is a rose.

In this sunshine
there are
as always the impoverished who strike out with careless hands for alms, dark of complexion and with faces crossed by the lines of their passing years.

The young one sits by the cathedral on the third step
perhaps tomorrow she will move a step closer, but for now, she rattles a tin, a few coins grumble noisily.

The sound of a mercy?

Even here in the most beautiful of places, there must be sadness and this is the balance of things.

A suited (albeit crumpled and old) gentleman sits by the gates of the museum and sings softly,
I listen to the music in his eyes and drop some coin into the cap so casually placed at his side.

And walking through these streets there are memories I make to bring home and taste of later.

Bustle
as the city lives
and in each
the dream
gives
new life.

Who walks with spirits of those who walked before walks with a measured pace.

I am too quick at times to notice anything but the footsteps.

I leave my shadow in these ancient alleyways,
a place to return to and renew friendships.

When I get really decrepit,
I will wear mismatched clothes
on purpose; fill my pockets
with useless pennies; leer
lasciviously at girls far too
young; mutter arcane
wisdom to myself just loud
enough to hear but not to
understand; eat everything
that makes the health Nazis
cringe; smoke in inappropriate
places; get drunk in the
mornings if I so desire
and smoke *** in public.
It will be an ecstasy to
not give a rat's *** what
anyone thinks. My only
regret will be that I
did not start sooner.

   ~mce

If
          You are always sorry
When
          You think back

And
          You only worry
When
          You think ahead

Then
          You will only find
Your
          Peace of mind

After
          You are dead
WIZDUMBs BY JA 414

On the Emerald Isle when the brier's green,
Occur strange sights seldom seen.
There's golden rainbows and small clay pipes,
And wee folk dancing every night.

I've heard stories of the leprechaun, but
Before I see 'em they're usually gone.
Yet one green misty night in the brier,
I saw them jigging round the fire.

Sean and I were in green Irish woods,
Gathering shamrocks and just being good.
While searching near a hidden creek,
We heard faint giggles from fifty feet.

Near the giggles grew a small green fire,
Perhaps six inches high - no higher.
We crouched low for a better look,
To our surprise we saw a small green cook.

He wore a tall green hat and pulled-up socks,
And stirred a *** of simmering shamrocks.
Smoke curled from his pipe of clay,
Why, I remember his grin still today.

A band of gold encircled his brim,
My little finger seemed bigger than him.
He had golden buckles and a puggish nose,
Glimmering eyes and curly toes.

Sweet music floated on wings of air,
Fifty-one leprechauns were dancing near.
They passed the poteen with a smack of their lips,
As each in turn took a good Gaelic sip.

Suddenly the gaiety quickly slowed down.
Sure we were that we'd been found.
But they all looked north with reverent faces,
Bowed their heads, stood still in their places.

The banshee's wailing was heard afar,
O'erhead the Death Coach had a full car.
The wee folk respect, it must be said,
Erin's children when they're dead.

Soon flying fast through the green night air,
We spied King Darby hurrying near.
He rode atop his beloved steed,
O'er dales and glens, woods and mead.

His hummingbird lighted on a leaf,
And all the wee folk knelt beneath.
With a golden smile he waved to all,
To officially begin The Leprechaun Ball.

Tiny green fiddlers fiddled their fiddles,
That sounded just like ten thousand giggles.
Dancers danced on mists of green,
Pipers piped, but none were seen.

They danced and ate and passed the ladle,
And kicked up their heels to Irish reels.
We enjoyed the sight late into the night,
But suddenly they gave us a terrible fright.

They saw us cowering behind the trees,
So they cast a spell which made us freeze.
We'd heard what happens to caught spies,
That now are spiders, toads or flies.

Well, old King Darby drew us near,
Sean and I were in a terrible fear.
With a grin and a snap he made us small,
And requested our presence at the Leprechaun Ball.

We reeled and laughed with our new found friends,
'Til the green mist lifted to signal the end.
With a glean in his eye the good King said:
"'Tis sure'n the hour yous be abed."

He waved his shillelagh to return our height,
Wished us well and bade good-night.
And as they rode the winds away
I suddenly remembered it was St. Patrick's Day.

I'm sure the lot of you think me a blarney liar, but that night I assure you
I danced 'round a green fire.