That black lump,
Devils Tongue ate from,
The ancient Greece,
Of fire and feel,
Determined of of who you are,
Is something of far,
For twisting,
Twisted,
Turn your ear,
To the side of the door,
And here me,
here me,
here me,
Your Heart
That golden sound of joy,
Of love's holy stay,
Omega forever today

My dad loved the idea of being different.
He would say "Make them remember you!" or "Let your light shine!"
He always told me to never do anything "half-***"
He wanted me to work harder, reach higher, and see beyond the horizons of society.
He always said "never look down! That's when you'll fall!"
He always knew what to say but he ever knew how to follow his own advice.

Cast an indifferent overcast
upon the coarse gray sands
around my sunken feet imprinted
on the earth grounded by gravity
tortured to look above towards
shrouding skies of hoary scale
with earthly sounds of depths
crashing without compromise
sprinkling comets of aftermath
over my pale bristled skin
shuddering convulsing trembling
in fear of this darkened oblivion.