A sentiment of peace,
A concept of love,
And an idea of happiness,
Its odd,
Because that is all they ever seem to be.

Uka 1d

Sad of wood
We step the Many
Seen of people so
Forgotten stop of Few
But the magic that shows
We as people
Never get to see
Such light of plenty
From a height so pure
From a height so sound
I as a story
And I as spoken
Person of steps and miles
Can’t take an hour
Or moment to long
Foreseen by Few
But left by Many
A table or chair
With word to share
So simple a connection
To the Many
Many, Few, Many, Few
The numbers unseen
Or ones we can
We value such
For we as people
Can’t see the Many
But cherish the
Few we experience

Dancing on the edge with you
You taught me to feel again in all the ways I forgot how to
Muddy feet
Then to the beach
Planting peacefully into shore
Like a wave the ocean can't control
You wash over me
Surrounding me at every turn
Your currents carry me to a different place
You're the only one that pulls me in
Sweeping me way into an ocean of euphoria
You changed everything
And now I never have the urge to swim back to shore

Mythic times,
Not gone from here,
But not here as well,
Mystic things,
Faded into the past,
Forgotten sects,
Rituals and magic,
Monsters, beasts,
Destroyed by man,
And even mans own creations,
Destroyed by his own hands.

Going to war
was a piece of cake
compared to coming back

In war I always knew
at least a few things
would always happen.

It became my home
because my family lived there
my comrades became
the stability to continuing on.

Each indifferent day
was a lasting piece of our humility to living
and our bond-ship to pride.  

I slept in trenches,
in the open air,
under the protection of some thin vail
that'd we all make it back together.

Here in the common wealth
I sleep in alleyways
and under bridges
with the aspirations
that someone will spare some change.

Staring at the sky
One of my favorite pastimes
Watching the world go by

The crisp air
Biting my cheek
Wind tousling my hair

The grass is damp
Running my fingers through the soil
Forever leaving my stamp

Searching for my identity
Amongst the stars
This is where I find serenity


The burning coldness,

The sharp bluntness,

The painful healing.

The loud whisper,

The soft hardness,

The peaceful war.

The shiny rust,

The infinite end,

The false truth.



I have no doubt in my mind.
Jazz is good for the soul
You're gonna' stay on the SIDELINES of all that shit
If you're listening
To some Cool Jazz

Sometimes I just wonder
What do people think of me?
Am I a good person? Or a bad person?

If I should leave this lonely world behind,
Will people be able to remember my memories?
Will my traces still be intact?

I never know
But this is for the best
So I can go peacefully.

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