(Villanelle)


It takes patience to wait for the perfect light.
Glance away and the image can disappear.
And sometimes the background isn’t quite right.

The moment missed is like a face out of sight
That against all logic we hope will appear
From around a corner, bathed in perfect light.

Or a pause in the music on a moonlit night
When hesitating lips touch, and love leans near,
But voices whisper that something’s not right.

Technology offers consolation in its sleight
Of hand:  Digitally correct the analog here
And now, counterfeit the perfect light.

Yet we want more than the mastered byte.
We want the flash between the waiting and the souvenir,
The instant when self and spectacle fuse, reality felt right.

And so we hold on to what’s passing out of sight,
The collision between soon and too late, the sheer
Thread connecting to the perfect light
In which the background is precisely right.

I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes.
It reminds me of how he'll leave.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

His smile looks like lightning flashes,
I keep thinking the electric shock might help my heart start to beat.
I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes

Our story will soon be only ashes,
I guess I need to stop wearing my heart on my sleeve.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

Tell me why my hands keep shaking like avalanches,
he can't see that he only makes me bleed.
I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes.

I keep thinking he only took my heart to cache it,
this isn't something that I can grieve.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

His shirt is stiff with blood splashes,
he's looking at his hands like this is something he can't believe.
I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

She stares at the sky, transfixed, in love

Basking in the cold, blue-white light

She adores the boy in the moon above



His pearly skin, like a kid glove

Shines down upon her, snow white

She stares at the sky, transfixed, in love


She wishes she could fly up, like a dove

To meet with the boy that she sees in the night

She adores the boy in the moon above


When he fades to a sliver each passing month

She is devastated that he’s out of her sight

She stares at the sky, transfixed, in love


Day after day, around the earth he is shoved

And she asks him why he never puts up a fight

She adores the boy in the moon above


He is the only one she ever dreams of

She wishes to join him with all of her might

She stares at the sky, transfixed, in love

She adores the boy in the moon above

I consider myself colorblind
No, I can see perfectly fine.
My true colors I hope you find.

I can see red and blues combined
I can see the green of the tree line
But I consider myself colorblind.

Times can't rewind
You and I are equal, bottom line
My true colors I hope you find.

I can see the rainbows aligned  
Hell! I can see the gold dollar sign!
But I consider myself colorblind.

All I mean is to be kind.
Life isn't a ladder it’s a vine.
My true colors I hope you find

Open up your mind
All these colors are divine.
But I consider myself colorblind
My true colors I hope you’ll find.

Sometimes in the dark
you stumble
before the morning lark

calls out to the smart
you mumble
sometimes in the dark

faintly beats the heart
sensing trouble
before the morning lark

calls for the day to start
we blunder
sometimes in the dark

trying to make their mark
our thoughts rumble
before the morning lark

All is but a house of cards
& about to crumble
somewhere in the dark
before the morning lark

Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life:
The hungry souls, crying out;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.

Divide and conquer the spirits the spirits; no given peace in the afterlife.
Give power to the beaten! but mask the drought.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.

Take shame for husband, vanity for wife.
Empty yourselves of such a notion as doubt;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.


It birthed destruction of a white rose, resentment the midwife.
You and I lost, no surviving the mirrored bout.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.

I try to adhere to your eye with it rife
As ego's pressure on a soul's sacred route;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.

Under ice and snow my own soul cries, and in strife
It marches against my beauty, of which I am devout.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.

All hail the grand demise
Yes that's what they expect
Astonished, they wept, aghast as i arise

Death came, welcomed, as they sought the prize
Survivors without guilt, with laughter they
All hail the grand demise

Defiant, i stood behind my skill and guise
A Patient witness to their slaughter
Astonished, they wept, aghast as i arise

Discounted, forgotten by my past allies
They didnt think i'd make it from behind
All hail the grand demise

The few who stood before my eyes
Swelled with anger and pure contempt
Astonished, they wept, aghast as i arise

Their efforts made vain, empty, they despise
My skill and talent, at none's expense
All hail the grand demise
Astonished, they wept, aghast as i arise

Were I a schoolboy,
summer'd pass me by.
All day I'd sleep,
content without the Sun.
But I am grown, and
must live until I die.

I shall name the birds
crossing through the sky.
I shall not rest until
the deed is done.
Were I a schoolboy,
summer'd pass me by.

There's work to do,
and little time, I sigh.
My hands are sore,
I've only just begun.
But I am grown, and
must live until I die.

My lover waits, and
to her arms I'll fly.
Though not just yet,
I cannot cut and run.
Were I a schoolboy,
summer'd pass me by.

So she calls my name,
her smile is not shy.
If I could, I would
sprint, like I'd heard the gun.
But I am grown, and
must live until I die.

I lament my youth,
lived in vain, I cry.
But I'm awake,
I'll rejoice in work and fun.
Were I a schoolboy,
summer'd pass me by.
But I am grown, and
must live until I die.