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Too scared to take another step
too tired to go all the way
too deep to back out and start over
my heart always kept at bay

why is it in this society
we shape our actions so sharp
our fears, our concerns, our inner strives
so clothed in our never-ending doubt

we need to look to light
so keen and soft and true
that is always sure to bring us
back as we begin to brew

sweet and longing tales of old
that keep our hearts so soft
like clay in the potters hand
or creation in the makers land
a cucumber sandwich
shouldn't be made ahead of time
as the liquid in the cucumber
will seep through the bread like lime

you'll have a wet hand
as you lift the sandwich off the plate
your palm and your fingers
will be in a saturated fate

always make cucumber sandwiches
immediately before afternoon tea
at this juncture of time the bread
will not become so soggy

your afternoon tea guests wont abide
the seepage all over their hands
it will make them feel like
jeering spectators in a grandstand

the most tempting cucumber sandwiches
are never served wringing wet
they have a dry bread covering
akin to an indoor carpet

to stop this sort
of sandwich irrigation
you must follow
these preparatory recommendations
A quirky one...
it's a drone, it's a drone
a drone, a drone, a drone
it's a drone, it's a drone
a drone, a drone, a drone

it's collecting info on me and you
it's checking out everything we do
it plies its spying eye
in all directions of the sky
why oh why oh why
does it need to pry on you and I

it's a drone, it's a drone
a drone, a drone, a drone
it's a drone, it's a drone
a drone, a drone, a drone

people are freaking out
knowing that a drone could be about
they can't relax at all
the surveillance does appall
it's truly quite queer
how the government does peer

it's a drone, it's a drone
a drone, a drone, a drone
it's a drone, it's a drone
a drone, a drone, a drone
This poem is set to the Cream song "I'm So Glad".
the ominous sound
of howling
permeated the night air
the villagers knew
what the continual howling meant
there would be a death
then two after that
the dogs
were never wrong
deaths in the village
always came in threes
howling through the night
a portent of demise
I wish so hard that uou would just turn around and
spark my heart
light the fuse that explodes the suns stars and moons
from out of my tempered heart,
to give a word spoken in that one way,
to touch with that delicate intent
to reach for me
and fight for me
and pull me away
from these empty phantasms
calling to my ***
release me.
Open me up to the universe
and let me explode with with mystical madness
let me paint with colours the endless sky
save me from this fortified heartened mess
My love, light me with your fire!
The one that she brings back alight.
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