THE QUEENS BATON RELAY
STARTS FOR THE COMMONWEALTH GAMES
THE TORCH IS NEALY READY TO GO
THE MESSAGE WILL REMAIN THE SAME


ATHLETES HAVE COMPASSION AND SKILL
AND WILL COMPETE ON THE GOLD COAST
THEY ALL HAVE DEDICATION AND PASSION
BUT TEAM SPIRIT IS THE MOST


THE GAMES REPRESENT
THE BEST OF THE BEST
COMPETING WITH EACH OTHER
THERE IS NO OTHER CONTEST


THE TORCH NOW STARTS
SUCH AN INCREDIBLE JOURNEY
CROSSING OUR GREAT PLANET TO SEE
THE TORCH YOU MUST GET UP EARLY

I left your house--
the house I'd hoped would be ours--
and all I could think about is,
out of all the people in the world,
only you feel like home.

Sitting is this lonely building,
The quiet emptiness around me echoes
With the lost sounds of playing children.
Its halls bustle with the ghosts
Of long forgotten residents.

The creeping darkness that surrounds me
Shuts everything out.
I sit in the corner of the room with my torch
And read an old book that I found on the shelf,
Worn from years of hands turning pages
And yellow from age.

As I sit here in the blissful nothingness,
I wish for nothing other
Than to be in my quiet solitude
For the rest of time itself.

I still love you
My love to you has not decreased one drop

Do not be afraid ..
My love is a Sea of drops
However, you're puzzled about two things

The first riddle:
You have given a candle to time
The second riddle:
You have taken a torch light from mine

I walk this dismal dark and damp dungeon
  Long dark the phantom am i;
Strolling I now take icy breaths;
  Mystery lies within my realm;
Far faint foot echoes announce my impending doom
  I embark upon my midnight
Echoeing chamber room
  It's chains that puppeted victims that had
Screamed for their end and at last,
  I had giggled laughed and touched their quivering chest
And felt their fading warmth
  Then into oblivion casted they were by me

This dark stone its chilling floor
  Where rodents squeek and scurry about,
My only pets and friends I know

Suddenly I hear as HEAVY VOICES of my approaching DOOM
  POUNDING FISTS and swinging logs against my dungeon door and room

I curse the empending light by
Their torches casting beams
Bound from hell and its slithering horrid beam fingers
  Under my dungeon door

I curse my end by angered pounding fists
  Hell bound to see my end to be

What cursed blackened night just lies
  A distant short,
A breathless world my oblivian beckons me by hounds
  Of DOOM,
My parts be scattered h e l t e r  s k e l t e r
  My inners thrown upon old wooden beams above

Soon i will leave this loveless world i made,
  i foretell and kiss only an empty space goodbye,  
Waiting first ****** deep within my flesh to be

Stalingrad- Germany wanted control,
But they weren't going to get it. Silly men,
Unaware that they would freeze to the bone
In those harsh Russian mountains.
Is oil worth it?

Torch- the British thought it was a simple plan.
It was, but barely. The soft underbelly,
The Mediterranean to France, through Italy?
Kick the Axis out of North Africa?
Piece of cake.

D-Day- a finale? Maybe. The ships and planes at the ready,
A possible surprise. Parachutes
And men on foot storming the beaches of Normandy.
Shots fired, push east where they belong.
Coming from the North and South. Cinch like a corset
Strings are drawn against the axis.
Good luck holding up your empire in this day and age.

Unless your hand rests on my leg;
unless they're whispered in the dark
unless they're said in real-time
your words are ghosts in broad daylight;
vows are lifeless and vague
and for skeptic crowds I contrive
phantom shapes.