Not to worry, Doc.
Don't mean ******* nothing.
We are all dead men here.
- mce

Bumble bee wants in  .  .  .
Strikes the dining room windows,
  .  .  .  Fake flowers on table.

In an age of emptiness
in the ways of nonsense
the meaning of life
has become meaningless

If we stand
do we each alone ?
Single thoughts under
single days and nights

"The fertile fallow furrow
fleeting under flurries of
freshly fallen snow "

. . . . . . for sure . . . . . . .

And we are the huskless stalks
shivering in the wind
row upon row
thousands upon thousands
going no where
and no where to go

your every argument held together by the glue
from a thousand children's bones and
the mercy box lies empty of anything but
your celebratory cigars
yesterday should wear a disguise
to hide its shameless joy
yet markets the efficacy of its deceit
with paroled butchery
even as today bullets freshen the neighbourhood

the act of now is the charcoal bloomed eyes
gun dead through the, NO! the no holds barred
the dials of a solid *******
and charcoal in turn will sublimate the sun
for its drone tucked brethren, NO! no crowns
or breast for the committed smirk or ersatz worth
and dying grants a detached view
an eager cut of prettiness directed
where blue melts belief
and white your teeth

and this is the easiest, NO! the gathering
shells from the beach, the streets, underneath the sheets
stepped through the brethren tuned around
in living colour, NO! dying horror on subscription
credit accrued where credit due
and shall we leave it seventy two now the ratings
start to falter?

I know you're scared to death.
Of your whole world collapsing. Caving in.
But I also know that you almost welcome it.
So we'll just keep chasing the Brightside.

And the images of the horrors you've met.
You've held on to them.
I know you used them to break your skin.
But we'll just keep on chasing the Brightside.

Life is what you'd expect:
Lies, lies, lies, and more broken promises.
And I know that your joy won't outweigh your disappointments.
But we'll just keep on chasing the Brightside.

So you're writing poetry.
Not with pen and paper but with your every breath.
And I know that you welcome death.
But we'll just keep on chasing the Brightside.

From the rooftops I will scream it.
For love and now death, I've wept.
And I know that I won't forget.
But for now, I'll just keep chasing the Brightside.

Why talk
When they don't listen?
Why be
When you don't feel?
Why yield
Unto submission?
Why earn
When you can steal?
Why fight
Against the darkness?
Why love
When love will die?
The past is dust and vanity.
The future is a lie.

I failed to save another soul today.
On my high patrol, I heard their last gasps leave their lips,
and I let their salvation get away
slipping through my super-powered fingertips.

If I can write assurance to a thousand souls lost, humorous and witty
"If I muster all the words that I know," I thought, "Surely I can save this city."
But life can't be measured by honeyed words, and it's agony to see
the souls' salvations that I'm missing beneath my red-caped nobility.

Even if I flew higher still, with my cape waving proud and free,
no great power I could bring to bear could match my responsibility.
For every orphan girl I save, there's another not too far afield.
For every chain broken, for every freed slave, there are chains that will not yield.

I'd fly around the world and turn back time, but I know t'would be in vain.
What's a single Superman to do, when the whole world cries to be saved?

Oblivion
i cry for you
oblivion
i strive for you
take away the thoughts
take away this noise
leave me alone
empty in the void
happily to non-exist
oblivion
i scream for you
oblivion
let me go

I lay the bodies of my dreams
In the echoes of my grave
I grace their loving memories
In the hollow of my cave

I close their opaque eyes
And kiss their cold and sullen lips
And listen one more time
For a heartbeat that I might have missed

Dreams that died in the heat and fell
Like gallant warriors often do
I grieve as I cover them
My heart a sadden shade of blue

Dreams go nowhere , no heaven , nor a hell
They just die and disappear
Leaving not a trace to tell , only
Just the stain of teardrops , dried up yesteryears .

Obliterate the rest of me,
While darkness dies inside.
Lead my rusted bones astray,
Restore my wounded pride.
Annihilate the sting of hope,
Erase its sorry stain.
Kiss away each vapid tear,
Take away the pain.
Desecrate my leaden heart,
Cull the weary past.
For dreams of love are fragile,
And are not meant to last.