He was a rather special sort,
To those who knew him,
And knew him not.
Tingles ran through his finger tips,
A golden chalice,
Held to his lips.

This Midas had a curious touch,
That left him mighty,
Not wanting much.
Golden forms from his fingers dashed,
Enemies transformed,
Into piles of cash.

A merry man, he strut through town
An arms length clear zone,
Did him surround.
When a wondrous girl he saw, so bold
She walked right to him,
No fear of gold.

Such beauty never before had beamed
Eyes lowered down,
Hair bounced and gleamed
When she glided close enough to kiss,
She met his gaze...
he touched her cheek...
and the last thing they heard...
Was a chorused hiss.

So if you should walk down that street,
King Midas and
His love you'll meet.
King turned to stone, with outstretched hand
And with head of yellow snakes
A golden Medusa stands.

The spin of words
Spin my mind
I find I leave myself behind
In the spin of words
Spins my soul
Fills the gaps that make me whole
So spin the words
Spin them free
Show me music I can see
Oh spin your words
Spin them 'round
Taste the nectar of thoughts unbound

Out of the mid-wood’s twilight
Into the meadow’s dawn,
Ivory limbed and brown-eyed,
Flashes my Faun!

He skips through the copses singing,
And his shadow dances along,
And I know not which I should follow,
Shadow or song!

O Hunter, snare me his shadow!
O Nightingale, catch me his strain!
Else moonstruck with music and madness
I track him in vain!

Stimulate and duplicate
Your potential to potentiate
Replicate your experiment
To educate, not adjudicate.

Be your master, emulate
Your idol, don't eliminate
Your need to feel, to resonate
To meditate, reverberate.

Don't incriminate, nor implicate
Make your mark, just radiate
Make them watch, eradicate
Terminate any doubt they state
That your life is one to celebrate.