Shattered verse flying blindly around what began as simple souls playing & plying out new roles
  Tethered tenors belting blame,while separate sopranos stand ready for even more ridicules
Ordinarily tepid  ,tactful & tasteful  this pair now parlays quips as they rake each other onto the coals
Possibly losing a link for rational ways to think ,madness rests on the brink ,corruption now rules

Belching Baritone  rumbles as altos rising falling like anvils upon heated mates ,neither wanting to lose.
While appeasement would be mutually appealing  virility hastens neutrality and is for quitters
Third parties agree aghast at how fast names have been abused in haste not seeing each others views
Greatly escalated no longer simmering ,impassioned people lay stake foundations developing fissures.

One with a wallet another with a purse,contents within  seems a ready reason for bellowing this curse
Once famous friends now seeing a need ,drawing an invisible line just to better present their own case of the lesser crime
Bold bass blindly blames with rambling range while tethered alto's allegations are relayed in strong verse
Operating like an opera, primo uomo over riding Prima Donna  their rage on a stage with a familiar rhyme.

Knowing personal need must be set aside with certain speed has become part of their new pitch
Understanding what has become wrong with that old song will take the new seat with themselves as the predominant audience
Future meetings must become legit greetings ,no groaning but growing ,the weight of the new scales making them rich
Scaled back from punk,slash hate metal to soothing richness of religious chants ,beautiful duets their new guidance .R.C.

Can dying be like turning off the radio?   tuning in for channels  from left to right ,extracting something sullen from a switch or a dial
blurbs of breaths interrupted like commercials getting their paid minutes of madness included in your daily drain
Staying in static staving off the mostly erratic ,we listen & hear but never draw near brushing it away as  trifle
Many many options, but who is making the rules of when it should stop  or what will be the proper words to explain


many never consider moving the numbers ,call signs always waiting to catch us in our prime times
Breathing outward to us, capturing capsules of our minds ,received but not welcomed another number another day
Between the hissing maybe vocal, for many never thought of more than local , moving on ,humming, simply trying to make rhymes
Making an action  from voices echoing from autos,hallways, has become so integrated that thought never develops it is  just Passe


The power from those towers can be far reaching flailing out three hundred sixty degree waves of blind finesse
Like sirens from a sonnet we take in the vibrations filling us flawlessly ,often over riding all previous notions
Now a newer unknown way of reception with nerves and neurons regulating the actions of a soul that will regress
Upbeat harmonies similar to patterns of a heart beat,  sent out through receivers ,be it stereo or EKG & EEG
Brought in felt is rising ,falls, patterns of charts or felt as soft art, quick decisions now bring new emotions

Transfixed on some beacons belching out mindless material between static ,shaky even erratic or even magic
Simple samples of voices taking notes as we turn the dial ,Passover or stay put depending on the vibe
Once released how far can the true transmissions travel,ever really lost or just passing into the abyss without ever being tragic
So A.M. or F.M. begun with tuning in ,just blending ,taken as common background expressions , becoming to accustomed with pleasantries
or patterns until the sudden LOUD rush of blind blaring induces a reaction to maybe an ending to the program that we have long been subscribed .....R.C.

What does it take
For a man to bury his dreams
Behind the garage with his gone pets?

Was it responsibility and maturity
To know that the dreams of a child
Weren't obtainable for a man anymore?

Was it because too many people
Said it couldn't be done
The doubt that seeded in
Just added up to lost time
And now there just wasn't enough time?

What does it take
For a man to finally bury his dreams?
Shovel in hand, a cigarette rests in his lips
As he says goodbye
To the dreams he had as a child

The confusion of my mind is doing it again 2 days in postictal re cooperation, I think Van Gogh would be most fitting
It is a hard state to describe for others that have not been there,my aura is heavy, with only the cold to keep it at bay
The sharp silvers have turned to mud!CRUD,If someone touches me I think will scream?cry? WAIT,hold out a little longer
I go through hell only to see the devil smiling back,grin & bear it they say, never hey,ya wanna play,restless,*****
Feeling it! R.C

Anchors aweigh they say as they also stand  two abreast for a silent moment to pray
Motions are made ,each vital in their role, laying to rest a comrades soul is the final goal
With ceremonious pride another mate laid over the side ,counting fathoms for a place to lay
Sounds of Taps against the mist of white caps brings strength maybe hiding the need to console

Many maidens of many seas have always awaited with their welcoming nets
Kiss of the wind or the breath of Poseidon if your on top it is below they want you residing
Morning sky's to moonbeams allowing enough light to guide as another mate is welcomed to the depths
All nationality's are linked by the bond accepted when cast to sea to let the waves do the guiding

All manner of craft, different from stern to aft ,leaning or listing albeit port to starboard
Always needing hands for the cargo's & their holds, the lady's open with  welcoming gangplanks
Whether active or after the fact  as an act or accident ,last rites can not be bartered
Calling from Atlantis no better honor could she grant us than laid to rest while closing ranks

Flying a flag on high as representative of allegiance  or to pay homage for brotherhood of crew
Waving banners laid out for good manners as ceremonial processes proceed ,with Officer of the Deck calling
"All hands bury the dead".
A chaplain may pray to those that stay ,joining with others to do what is right for their brothers for the card they drew
A journey that began from a pier or a berth ,from crows nest to gallows with trolls ,swabee or swashbucklers ,sardine's or submariners
Mates of all rates treated as equals ,if paying the highest toll, when checking off the final logs the names all blend together
   when the new home will be at the deepest fathoms they can not tread . R.C.

Don't ever forget yourself, a new journey with two souls
Takes a different strength making you unique
Letting anothers world come into your own, it becomes a fine line
Upright,stable& strong,has to carry on,when helping the other is one of your goals.

Hindsight is useless when recalled with broken wings
  Your own stability can no longer be supported through duel emotions
  always assessing your selfless soul, No matter the vow or pairing of rings
   Forgetting oneself  means we will lose no matter our original devotions

  Knowing the true level of ones strength, has to be known before the attempt at helping the forlorn
   The effect of the storm cannot be seen from the interior ,breaking false walls,cracking to the core
  The real allegiance cannot be forgotten & we must remember ourselves,so together we are not torn
  Maintaining a balance of hero & helper can not be achieved  if we are not the same person we were before.