Diadem of dreams keep him keen,
In the lost world we walk,
We debate the last Holocene,
Then we split, came the fork…

Lonesome fingers, slip emerald thread,
I stare yon window,
Knitting some spell, helps me forget,
Drink lavender tea to grow.

It tasted bitter in the Winter,
So sweet when in summer,
Lukewarm come last November,
I can’t drink it no more.    
  
They call me Lavender, loved ones,
You tried to debunk why,
Until you kissed me under the sun,
Love can make you so high.

The day you picked my last flower,
I was not a maiden,
You took from me ancient power,
My heart simply waned.

I took to the stars, took to the cards,
I became the Hierophant,
I looked to my sun, to my Mars,
To my Moon and Venus.

I’m imbued with the Crone’s wisdom,
With a new mindset so,
To understand conflicts new and old,
I’m healed, stronger, a Being of Amour.

Speak with me, drink flowery tea,
On the phone, speech may hurt,
Together, it’s ten times as sweet,
Call me, Lovely Lavender X

I’ve got some money and a swag and a gun – and my lover
My lover and I are on the run
We changed our hair, our clothes, our names, we’re undiscovered
But she cannot escape the things I’ve done

Oh, my Daisy Dunne

I’m thinking to myself, “I think I love her”
But not half as much as I’m scared I’ll lose control
So I hold that naïve girl and tell her I love her
Out of fear she might forsake my aching soul

‘Cause I can’t bear the thought of hanging from the rope all on my own
I’m trying to take her to Heaven with me but I’ll burn in Hell alone
Me and Daisy Dunne will run into the angry setting sun
But we cannot outrun the things I’ve done

We’re hiding out in a shack by the sea with my little brother
At half my age he’s twice the man I’ll be
But I see the way he looks at my lover
And I killed the last man who tried to take her from me

I shot him dead and then we fled, but his eyes still stare at me
Now my lover screams from in her dreams while I lie awake listening
Me and Daisy Dunne are one, until the judgement of kingdom come
Until they hang me from my neck for what I’ve done

Oh, my days are done

Please, will someone spare the truth from my poor mother?
Don’t you tell her what befell her eldest son
You can tell her all about my lovely lover
But do not let Mum know the man that I’ve become
I just wish she could have met my Daisy Dunne

One fateful night I caught Daisy’s eye, she was giving me a silent plea
Then I saw some light and I decided it was time for me to set her free
But my Daisy Dunne she took my gun and killed a man who was chasing me
And now she’s standing beside me here at the gallows tree

(As they lower the hood over evil and good, the last things we will see
Are my longing stare and her accusing glare, and it suddenly occurs to me
I have no way of knowing where it is I’m going, but I have the distinct feeling:
Whatever is next, my Daisy will not be there with me
And I could have used my last words to tell her that I’m sorry)

There’s a creek with a swing
And rocks for climbing
That turns a man into a boy
The creek is born
From a waterfall
That fills a young girl with joy

He watches her wade
In the pool in the shade
A beauty no one could conceive
And this place is so real
So perfect it feels
That they each never want to leave

Beyond the thrall
Of the waterfall
The creek from the ether transcends
It twists and it turns
Like his touch on hers
And it seems to go on without end

He offers his hand
To help her ascend
She accepts without making a choice
And they follow the stream
In a faraway dream
Far enough from real life’s aching voice

Back home, flesh and bone
The lonely unknown
And a love that is doomed not to be
But they still hear the call
Of the waterfall
In the ether and in their dreams

She finds that even backyard leaves contain
a blazing history inside their veins.
She reads the legends etched in crinkled skin,
her ardent, housebound blood boiling within.

At dusk, she likes to listen to the creek–
its reverent, animated tales of meek
young girls who grew into grand bronze statues–
and long for metal legs that’d let her choose

to dare, and burn, instead of fear, and waste.
But still, at night, her body likes to chase
the hours stargazing at ceilings. And
the myth-less, coarse white stucco slowly sands

away each spot of sprouting luster on
her atrophying frame. With nerve all gone
and adult blood inert as viscous tar,
she cannot even dream of ceiling stars.

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

And rain always calls for a raincoat
Boots and a hat for good measure
But Tim didn't need any protection from the storm
In the downpour in fact he took pleasure

His father put the pressure on
From a young age expected perfection
So when he grew up he got the hell out of dodge
Moved far away from parental correction

He was always in a drinking mood
Any time of day or night
If you caught him four drinks or more in
Whew! He was quite a sloppy sight!

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

He drank hard alcohol and beer
Without discrimination
Either one would work just fine
For his goal of inebriation

He was a bit too rough on his body
Which is an overly gross understatement
He neglected his health and mental well-being
In reckless pursuit of entertainment

He wasted his life away getting wasted
Never pausing to consider that he might be missing out
Too self-destructive to attract a wife
So a family he chose to live without

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

There was the time Tim broke his shoulder
Falling out of a tree
Because someone bet he couldn't reach the top
A task that proved to be an impossibility

Tim hardly ever brushed his teeth
So they all fell out by age 45
But considering his lifestyle
He was just lucky to still be alive

Surprisingly he was a religious man
Although not one page of the bible did he read
He had heard Jesus turned water to wine
That was all the preaching he'd ever need

This is the story of Good-Time Tim
That I sit down to tell you today
No matter the weather
No matter the season
This man just wanted to play

As he grew old he began to slow down
But not once did he ever regret
The countless mistakes he had made through the years
I guess the ***** made him forget

His liver held up for a very long time
But eventually started to rot
But for Tim it was too late to get sober
So he still swallowed shot after shot

When the doctor gave him his fatal diagnosis
He laughed and said "I'm ready to go
But make sure I'm buried with a bottle
In case they don't serve liquor way down there below!"

Moisture, madness mixy make
Tendrils find and *****
Into being; stones you’ll break
Minerals be your hope

Energy do take from me
And always be my child
In this new plane, which bares my name
You’ll never be defiled

Now reach, expand all through this land
Embrace all on your way
Do not propitiate my dear
Go living as you may

A single pixel point of light
In warm and dank, rich dark
I tread with disposition mild
And countenance so stark

Enveloped in effluvium
The senses grow too dull
Emotions try but do in vain
This darkness always culls

So be this place; so be its pow'rs
Its pangs touch me not much
Be it friend or be it foe
So am I in its clutch

The water here is dense and deep
The same as when he came
That young and dulcet miller boy
Who sought to drown his pain

Still we offer an array
Of anguish to be kept
By this old bächlein full of warmth
Embracing all our heft

Laced with blue
Embedded with rue
I put on my dress
Shining with fluke
Inside I'm a mess
Out awaits a duke
Prepare I to flatter
Try I not to shatter

Trembling, I open the door
My heavy eyes on the floor
I hear the sound of his smile
Takes then he my bony hand
We walk slow, down the aisle
I think I feel them all stand
they gawk at our spotless shine
power, beauty, a match so fine

A perfect walk in a perfect hall
till body decides to give in and fall
In sudden, I hear all of the silence
name me, label me til I'm unnamed
gore me, control me, I've seen violence
I've been through, I've been trained
face of my duke's engraved with a frown
I still, I shrink, again I've let him down

though kindly he extends a hand
though slowly I take the stand
though still perfect we are together
I who saw glass break to shards
know many pieces we can't gather
know too many unflipped cards
too many of them yet to be turned
too many secrets yet to be learned

Adorned in red,
made with regret
he put on his dress
with misery so bright
to meet his mistress
on this cold, dead night
still he wished a try
to being her some joy

scared he knocked with grace
admired then her pretty face
saw her walk, then fall slightly
and helped her back with glory
tiresome it was to walk quietly
wished he to say he was sorry
but he too knew it was in vain
they had to suffer this ugly pain

Though he loved her deeply
and knew so did she briefly
there were other things to adore
power, pearls and dresses that sway
wars, swords and bodies to gore
still he hoped, oft sat down to pray
for return of life in their dry eyes
for a melody of their silenced cries

As I shatter to velvet ground again
their eyes follow me down like rain
though jewels don't match with love
it too has long run away perhaps
Spread its wings, out gone the dove
next to me, I see my duke collapse
how lovely, we are the perfect ashes
of two impatient, imperfect clashes