Wet pavement shining
tail-lights like rockets flaring
cars fly down the road.

Black stone juts out over greying ice,
A mass of alpine greenery,
Half bare, half masked in white;
The motion of a turner painting,
Colours cast through Lowry's eyes.

Camouflaged upon a riverside
With no sign of Lutheran ambition,
As faith faltered, medieval to Christ,
A small church modestly mirages,
Casting simplicity into Nordic pride.

The excitement of the northern lights
Over the precipice of these continents,
American and Eurasian plates collide.
The Langjökull Glacier screams
Witnessing its own untimely demise.

The remoteness captured in the landscape
Starkly contrasts to us who bear witness to it
And in the mirroring of the landscape
A lonely civil dwelling knows nothing
Of war between nature and humankind.

We dropping it low before
            it became came trendy..

We flying higher than any man
                  could shot us low

below..

We never lost control,  lights below

                                about to be dimmed


Dropping our attitude,  
                   we showed

that we could drop it harder

than any man an then some more.

Flying with our crew we were the angels
               dropping our vengeance below.

No one was safe when we flew,
    we were angles of death, of life.

We flew when others couldnt.

Our names were avenging beauties,
          and we kissed all below

with the fire of kisses falling from above.

Far beyond the gable ends of dark suburban streets
Riding past the furthest flats where paths give way to fields

Where giant cranes with groaning frames are elevators into space
Looming over dark estates, unoccupied and halfway built
A regiment of vacant digs

Set out just like theatre props; a sort of play not yet begun
The porches laid with welcome rugs for when the future tenants come

And when they take up residence and get their keys and pay their rent
They'll surely never think of me as I have thought of them
The countless nights I've seen to spend, exploring every lamplit bend

Or how I'd trekked those distant places, before they'd laid the first foundations
Beyond the reach of tired feet, where fauns or fairies surely meet

The dark and curing plains are real and stretch for starry miles around
The rustle and din of windblown things, the rush of moonlit clouds

And soon from now when strangers come and pick the perfect house to live
And make it theirs and settle in and pick a room to put the crib
I'll stop the squeak of spinning wheels upon some distant mound or cliff
And moving closer to the lip; Dublin twinkles past the tip

little lights
inside your eyes
pretty stars
in a midnight sky
holding hands
fingers entwined
i've got you
nothing else i need to find
running in the dark
away from it all
the sky is vast
with a love so tall
it held on tight to the pretty lights
the ones called stars
i want you to hold me close
in a world that's ours
dark as twilight
black velvet kiss
you're made of shooting stars
but you're my only wish

I find myself in a storm
I knew where I was going
Yet I am surprised
That God is crying out
Water from his eyes
Me by myself
My worries and my fears
I knew where I was going
How did I still end up here?
Then I see the lights
The only offering of guidance
They keep me from going astray
Without them surely
The ditch is where I would lay
I've seen these lights before
In following my older brother
In the kind words of a friend
The proud teardrops of my mother
They were there all along
Showing me the way
Were it not for them
The ditch is where I would lay

it seems that all these city lights
were meant to guide me home
but once they finally lose their life
i am sitting here all alone