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Jane Smith Apr 2021
Like the choir in heaven,
Like the death of my eleven,
Like the many who have tragically died.
There’s a devil over yonder,
And she’s getting a little closer,
And what’s the point,
If it’s not played,
In blue?

And the trees outside keep dying,
My shattered windows keep lying,
I keep myself alive like god sleeping on the seventh.
Stray cat, come back home.
You’ll step on glass if you roam.
God, what’s the point,
If I’m not there,
With you?
Kenneth Gray Mar 2021
Beckon unto me with thine
Angel-voice so soft
In heavenly song that doest
Elevate mine soul aloft
Amongst the myriad of blissful
keys I rejoice
Alas!
I've transcended to God's kingdom
by the sweet sound of thine voice
Something I thought of while out on the porch smoking. Thinking about how I wish my ex wife would apologize for all the things she put me through. How hearing her say she is sorry would be music to my ears and lift up my soul. This is what came from that idea.
Him Jan 2021
O, my silent singing bird, how I worry for you this day; for without hymns or choruses, you have allowed the Sun to fade.

Lo, though I have your ear, your heart is anything... anywhere but near, but here; for you, my silent singing bird sings a song of silence; souless symphonies of sorrow your aid.

Were only your chirps of greeting and discourse of our hopeful meeting, I could hear; then I would think it a concert, and listen well to the performance that you have prepared.
To a friend in his time of weeping, to a love both gentle and fair; your tearfall leaves me wishing, that I could wipe them all away.
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