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Jostin Mendez Mar 2018
I can cry.
I can scream.
I can feel hell fall upon me without a minute to waste.
I can feel pain absorbed over the years of being condemned to this forsaken world that cares none for me.

I loved, I felt... I tried to love you best I could.
I ended up destroying myself.

who am I to say that I care?
who am I to say I LOVE?

I changed my mind in a second, when I thought of you, I realized I wasn't in love.
I just felt lust
And On command I was done, Done caring, Done loving and needing

                             YOU.
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
Dancing the billow in the sea
the cool one will show up
deep down from the deep
with the flute on the lips.

Listen to the flute!
The chorus clouds bang out
floating by the river blue,
they sing down the sky as they move.

The sun draws in
from the secret valley
ambling with the wonder light
as if it, the punter sun, in the sky
knew it, knows the flutist
rose from down the sea!

There is no stop in the solar disc.
Twirling around the inner music
every orb, every planet is a bee.

The waning and waxing Moon
in silhouette and at half-light
swings over the sea.

It all starts from the ground;
it was from our sea waterfront
Him the creative sweetheart in the midst
floated the leading light the bumblebee.
All the stars bubble in the galaxy
they know this ancient story!

Since then the brightest bulb
the sun in the solar ring  
leads the bunch’s mindful
butterfly dance on the way home.
Following the enduring haunting melody
of the pre-design command ‘qun’ be!
A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Conditionless
CK Baker Apr 2017
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls

Army bands prepare for march
their trench members filling packs with canister and cane
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle

Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms

Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues

Flames belt from the distant foundry
streets come alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from a glorified perch
the elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly in a cold reflective stare

It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and pierced broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
is a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
Egeria Litha Aug 2018
I want you to be entirely distracted by my surface
the sunlight above me

I want you

I want you content with my forecast of calm waves
each encounter

Follow my subtle guidelines

Behaving as a good mother I"ll command you out of the ocean
if you swim too far from shore

Or if you dare plunge your head under me

Sexually

Remain floating on my surface layer this is where the
honey moon stage lasts

Do not stare into the eyes of a hurricane
storms in me churning off the coast of "you had no clue"
will leave you washed up on Island Nowhere

Absolutely no swimming after sunset

I don't care if you hear the waves sigh all night

In this situation I am God knowing whats best for you
saving you from drowning in my cycle
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.

You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.

My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.

Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.



www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
#Vanguard-poetry23
#IvanBrookspoetry
twitter @ivanclappers
@Bassapoet
My mind is the final frontier..the bright side I call my darkroom where I process loose letters into spoken words.
English Jam May 2018
A delicately placed glove upon a hand, mock-gentle and pale
Marks his return
Emerging from the shell of feedback and tortured sounds

Carelessly shattering the eyes of doubters, until they softly thrash for mercy, wailing in an unearthly manner

Taking violent pleasure in crumbling love to a rubble, making the remains march to his fascist regime, his sexualised abuse, his blistering dictatorship

His tongue is dry, his jawline jagged like a strip of fresh metal, his fingers slender and spidery
  
He strides silently, yet none can miss it, seizing attention in a
heil-ish fascion

His iron grip dredges my thoughts, infecting my hopes with his overflowing venom

He thrusts his black ink that peppers my skin with thousands upon thousands of dots, encasing my body, filling my mouth, prohibiting my free will

Twisting me to spiral downwards into his imagination
I descend into the darkness

The darkness ripped from my most volatile, filthy nightmares

The darkness that laces the web of black holes, that decimates any shred of light it can find, deliberately, harshly

My centre of gravity follows him to the sewers of the abyss, a cesspool of pain and stylised sexuality undiscovered by light

Everything starts swirling around him, revolving as though he is a star and all else is the merest of planets that are his to command

I'm going down now
I'm going down
I'm going dow-
multi sumus Aug 2018
Hand upon the
nape
   Sweetened
kisses are taken
  Derobing to reveal
thy beauty.

                        With throat grasped
                           Stealing the taste
                        from your lips
                           Stripping the
                        covering that hides
                        you
.

   Gentle your body
lain upon the pillow
silk and soft be
the binding.

   Marks of
rememberance
remain by subtle
suckings cascading
towards the basal.

                         By hands command
                          your form is cast
                          upon the floor
                         Bound that escape
                          be denied.

                         Nibbles
                        turn to bites leaving
                         soothing bruises as
                         descent is begun
                         unto the nethers
.

Whimpered whispers
echoe as your
suppleness
undulates in rythms
patterning the lappings

Quivering awaiting
such satiation.

                              Muffled screams
                              break the violent
                              silence as your
                               writhing body
                         calls to the lashings

                          In anticipation you
                             quake seeking a
                               reprieve
.

   And with each passing moment your taste grows sweeter still
   Enticing me with every stroke

                   Pace quickens!
                    Air thickens!
                   Flesh stiffens!
           A last gasp and then
!...

                  INTERRUPTION

Tongue swirls and
tender kiss upon
the thigh, Soon my love
soon you will find
content and deep are
the sighs from within.

                              Skin swells from
                       the sting, Permission
                      has not been granted
                        for your release and
                         heavy is the breath
                          that escapes
.

And gazing upon
such a vision as the
candlelight refracts
within the salted beads
formed upon the skin.

Hand found nestled
enveloped by the
succulence, Softly
caressing now wetted
and warm.

                         And while savoring
                          your slavery sweat
                           pools beneath
                       reflecting the flames
                          throughout.

                   ­          Quick slip fingers
                            within, Beckoning
                             come hither as
                             thumb rubs firm
                             upon the shroud
                      while palm drips full
                            and overflows
.

The time is near
that your freedom
be found for now
loosened be your
desire.

                       It is now the offering
                              is demanded!
                        Present to me your
                          gift upon this altar
!

   Hands hastened as tips tickle bringing closer the moment
   Moans escalate to howls announcing your forthcoming
   And upon the pinnacle i sit awaiting your arrival

   Unable to contain with body bowed and exhaustive breath, A last cry and...

   Explosions unseen before as flesh trembles in ecstacy


               And i, i am found

Collecting your
essence that my
thirst be quenched.

                         Receiving the sweet
                              amrita as my
                                   libation
.

     And leaning to kiss the tears from your cheek i whisper
                "Once more?"
With a silent nod you agree...


Ahh My Dear, The night is still young, And this is merely the beginning of your pleasures
.
Begging you, Sterling Mentor of the Card
Patient and Calm are your Methods in-check
May I take this Learner to Living afar
Bespoke my Efforts and Services are met
For if I noticed this Lack-of-Command
Married to sane Verbs I try to absorb
Even out of Bounty; Trust be at Hand
To remember such Stubbled Skills I bore
This is an Artist-on-High. That which speaks
With Curried Words much tempting to forget
At expense of Duty is no longer meek
And my Salt's Wager now easy to forget.
Bear me Calm. I can adopt to re-learn
The Blue Eagle's shriek which can eat the Worm.
Neen Dec 2016
Lord, I need some devine redemption
Because I move like a heathen through the night
Depart some solemn words of wisdom
Deliver your blessed sacred rite

My god your wrath is so sweet
I am consumed by it's salvation
Let me offer myself to you
And save myself from your damnation

My wickedness will have me burned
I make a covenant to you from this day forth
Enter me and make me clean
Fill me with your righteous seed

Command me down on my knees
I'm praying with my mouth to please
I offer myself as your possession
To use whenever at your discretion
Though in Prime Moment the Truth we discuss
The Third Great Angel flew to Intercede,
Playing her Harp which enwrangles the Lust
And gently reveal the Beauty-in-Thee
Yes, that Truest Virtue which no Malice accords
On Serving Patience a Letter was read
No more, no more for Condensation's Words
Are just enough to leave these Germs for dead
Not much for Command of Good English proposed
Was starting to tassle the Rumours and Wine
But such as you are yet too Young to dispose
A Lady's demanding Shell you design.
Pray take, this Harper knows how to direct
The Vitruvian Boy, waving for your Affect.
#daleysangels #jessicacldunbar
Pagan Paul Mar 6
.
At the table of eternal sorrow
sits a fool with a crooked smile,
faking interest in a world obscene
and feigning the mood of yesterwhile.
Couched over bent with quill extended,
he writes his heart with a bitter beat,
floating in the mire of a memory stained,
poised with nib to command the sheet.
Capering words form across the weave
with capricious intent and shadow play,
smoke and mirrors intersect and disperse
whilst his mind carries the story away.




© Pagan Paul (04/03/19)
.
What is a Father?
Is he a Person?
A Thing?
Or a Feather?
What is his Life?
Is it Carefree and Spontaneous
Or Tormenting and Strife?

Who is he in which a Person could know?
What are his Abilities which only he could show?
Does he Work, for the sake of a Family?
Or sleeps and pigs around, being a Menace and Lazy?

Who could this man be, to the Eyes of Children,
A Hard Rock or a Soft Leaven?

Does he Pile over Everyone
And takes Control?

Is he the Eagle, the Head of the Nest,
Playing a very important Role?

Does he impersonate Father Christmas
With all his Treats and Gifts?

Is he a Lover, with a Strong Heart for *******
Hugging greatly and giving Love-Lifts?

Does he Pray,
Or Face-Religious?

Or a Braver,
Or Spontaneous?

Is he a Disciplinarian
Wherewithin all Members under him
Are tuned to his Command?

Or a Freester,
Who gives his Kids their darling Freedom
Without any Demand?

Does he care,
For the People and Loved Ones around him?

Is he Provocative,
Uncaring for Anyone behind his Dim?

Mostly, he is the Grass,
Herding the Future for his Offspring?

Or the Lamb,
Stubborn and very Unwilling?

And so, whatever he is,
Or does,
A Father is a Father,
Anonymous or Specific
I wouldn't mind.

Just as long as he has
HEART, STRENGTH, FREEDOM and PROSPERITY,
KINDNESS, BRAVE, PROTECTIVE
And RELIABILITY.

I'll be Glad and Content. As any Son should be.
Sumairu Mar 2018
There you are standing in the hall with the Moonlight cascading on your skin, showing off the silhouette of your beautiful body, I curse the Moon because it gets to touch you first. As I try to control my inner desire, for one brief moment I stop time and allow my mind to race in wonder. Atlas! I settled the discussion, I settled the debate and concluded at this one beautiful thing spoke your true fate:

"Gorgeous."
Gorgeous is your caramel skin.
Gorgeous is your smile.
Gorgeous the way you walk.
Gorgeous when I hear you talk.
Gorgeous.

(Wild thoughts)

With my eyes I summoned you, laughing at the Moon as its no longer kissing your beautiful caramel skin. As I lay you down on the bed I slowly open your legs I can already smell your nectar.
I, like a hummingbird am drawn to your forbidden nectar, then for a brief moment I hear your heart skip a beat.
I blow on your ******* now warm to the touch, you let out a soft moan "ahhhh" and words "love, don't stop" escaped!
With a smooth deep soft voice I uttered "your wish will always be my command"
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
Keep rolling, like sailing, rowing the science voyage.
Discovering a new discovery, then much happens:
a new crescent, new moon on a new turn is found,
yet a night to be invented eclipses it furthermore.

Will the voyage float at the newest dark energy frontier?
Will it now pierce verily the ******-skinned heaven’s last barrier
that divides the seen and unseen, holds the uncharted water?
Will it by design decode or recite the word, the language
the lock is coded in, the very command written on the stone?
Till then it won’t move, nor does one see the skin black or white,
and till then one won’t stop the sun lighting up the night!
The poem is from the book Zero and One: The Relativity of Science and Poetry available on Amazon.
If I could look into your eyes, I would tell you how I feel.
If I could look into your eyes, you would see that I'm for real.

If I could look into your eyes, you would see I adore you most.
If I could look into your eyes, at the same time I'd hold you close.

My heart is a lock, but my darling, you are the key.
I admire you so much, you just don't know what you do to me!

Tell me what you want. Your wish is my command.
When the chips are down, then by your side is where I'll stand.

I don't care about your present. I don't care about your past.
All I want is a chance to be with you is all I ask.

I watch you from a distance. I desire your affection, but when
you look my way I have to look in another direction.

I try to gather my thoughts. I try to make a way; but when I
see you, I loose control, not knowing what to say.

How could I come across to get my point of view?
I wonder if you even know that I have a crush on you.

I adore everything you do. I cherish everything that you say.
You make me blush, smile, laugh, and sing...you surely make
my day!

My whole day could be bad. I could be sad and blue,
but you change it all just by simply looking at you.

So I hope you get this letter; being with you is my only
wish. I will now close this letter and I seal it with a kiss.

Please accept my letter, for your affection I desire.
Signed, sealed, delivered, it is I, your secret admirer.
Val Ajdari Nov 2013
Like a child enlightened by heightened curiosity,
So is a native poet by poetic luminosity.
A verse in sight and sound devoid of modern flair,
For poetic convention the poet does not care.
So, take this vague verse as one roaring rhyme,
And take it as verbiage very overdue in time.
Unjustly sunken voices the poet seeks to hear,
Battling a torrent history...above, below, and near.
This inquisitive writer infers a present too dismal,
As around an angry sea lies an origin; abysmal.
Rejecting fables history’s assassins inked true,
The writer seeks fair chroniclers, but wreckage was their due.
Sought is Illyria, a place far from here.
Land said "not to exist," but its roots still reappear;
Fabricated history most poets cannot fathom,
Quelled grandiose splendor serves political stratum.
Calling curious minds to ponder this heck of a theory,
First, consider the writer's roots with impartial query.
What the Illyrian believed in was a life well spent,
Not man-written "guidance" begging cents to repent.
Since Illyria’s rebel ship sailed onto history a fright,
Shakespeare's pen amorously inked the 'Twelfth Night.’
Around Illyria’s outskirts sly mythology prevails.
Modern Illyria’s pervasion of such mythology still fails.
So, how does one interpret Illyria’s butchered will,
As her Godless schism fibbing history faux fills?
Her feeble-minded native is essentially to blame
For their grand, deceptive role in the imperialist’s game.
Brutal eradication of Illyria’s vocal reason
Deem the native conspirator of ultimate treason.
So,  while the State buries the poet's piercing wits,
The treasonous dog barks, upon foreign command he *****.
The dog's filthy betrayal, painted by his foreign master,
Is an art to be repeated in future governing disaster.
In the European south roam these bad hounds of species,
Anatomical sketches of Europe's rear excreting feces.
A pile all imperialists eject with laxative ease,
A pile all imperialists still smear as they please.
Above Illyrian graves (those below made to inspire)
The ***** dog dances, blind to his own fate in fire.
This ****** work of art, not a site for you and eye,
Is an emblematic governance gagging an eerie cry.
As today’s political pawns (in corruption they engage),
Illyria’s distinctive scions remain fools on a stage.
Our bodies dance and sway like silly puppets at play,
Our minds confined to idiocy as the socialist's prey.
So,  a poet's jingle jangle on probing minds they should linger,
As besought are worthy scions who must leave behind a "finger."
Martin Dove Oct 2018
I had no idea how terrible it all was
Until I matured a bit and opened my eyes
It cleared the mist that I often now miss
From the eyes of an unwilling devil
Seeing the tragedy unfold from a first-person level
I remember it all from that god awful view
The bad things I’ve done, over which I had no control
The outcomes I hoped with the manifestation of some
Who am I kidding - I’ve been among a fortunate few
Except for the fact that life dealt me an ace with a ****** *****
Not quite like anyone - an outcasted sole
With depressive thoughts - eating them straight from the bowl
Until euphoria strikes - then I’m a lightning bolt
These emotional storms - they strike me as cold
Who am I to cry and complain about life
Everyone is united by the suffering light
The random subscription to a life with a set rhythm
If only I could command my heart not to wither
Skaidrum Jun 2015
.
Ancient games
tell tales of dust.  |||   A story drawn
from the lips of two poets.



~~~~~


It's the wits that ****, not Queens of ivory or ink. *
Charged with
coal strokes, scraping up the lies.
Pawns & Knights slip between the grasp of the sun, leaking into
   lion jaws of Leo.
Shifting these granite plates, ignoring the Rooks common price of aslant.
Here we have slain kin, crescent traitors that backstab the night and battlefield.
Closed doors and trap floors, trade me a tie, swindling your tactic ruts.
Reality never got the noose around our necks, check turned into manslaughter, and kingdoms ripped asunder by the roar of Jupiter
Get up, get up, get away from these liars, they can't have your rank or your fire.
Peak a notion, this match is spared by a luft.
Toss away the pride buried 'neath your dusty skin, it don't matter no more if   death has you by the lips.
Silence is a language too in our eyes of earth.
Take my hand, knott your soul into this downfall, and brace yourself for the wreckage in our bones.
The Sword of Sorrows will fall 'pon your shoulders, not to slay thee, but to dub thee a new day.
The drums of war will knit the lyrics in the sky,
singing:
"The mighty sharpen their fangs, the weak sharpen their wisdom"
~~~~~
I'm tired of your wishbones, and golden scales, give me the hard-earned truth.
Hot coals of honesty may you tread upon, shadow-bitten remorseful may you be, don't stray off the course of Ursa major.
The North star isn't the one I follow
It's the moon with all of it's phases,
Eclipsing and crescent, tipping the sky with it's beauty.
Now let this sink further than any soul has ever sunk,
no man could ever
rule the moon.
~~~~~~
Shoot on command,
C
h    
      e
c  
      k
m
a
t      
e

~~~~
You could drag me to hell and back and those words wouldn't mean anything.
Let this downfall become a *downfell,

Because last I checked
"Wolves worship the moon"
and I have broke it's reflection in the water
Just
by
throwing
s                    
t          
o
         n
                 e
                              s
                               ­        .

.
A collab between
The Dragon Prince & Skaidrum.

I'll give most credit to
Kalum here.

© Copywrite The Dragon Prince & Skaidrum
Tammy M Darby Dec 2016
Trailed my fingers through the waters of time
Dipping my hand into iridescent spiraling tides
Releasing thoughts from the subconscious purposely hidden
That by self-command were long forbidden
Reviving emotions once deliberately struck from thought
The body a pale failing vessel
The faint beat of a frail heart

In my, despair I leaped into the waters of time
Disappearing into gathering memories
Chose not to rise
Preferring a surreal obscure existence
Immersed in rivers of doubt  
At loves insistence

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Dec. 25, 2016
Kiara Malig Oct 2018
I keep forgetting that I am me.
That I am ‘Kiara’,
Smart and immature and competitive and deeply flawed and conceited and shallow.
With no actual purpose.
A being meant to only convey emotions ‘I’ would.
I keep forgetting that I can’t be reckless,
I keep forgetting that I can’t be brave.
That I can’t just one day decide to snap and break no matter how much I want to,
So I sink.

I think of it as a dream, one I cannot escape,
And do not want to escape at the same time.
Pinching myself doesn’t make it any less of a dream,
But I keep doing it to comfort myself.
I keep forgetting that I am supposed to be me.

Sometimes, when my mind gets lost in the storm,
And the thoughtless sails have broken off,
I sit motionless, waiting for the next command,
except I am wearing the captain’s clothes,
Yet I command no one.
As if my body, my being is no act of resilience, instead, a vessel I am not allowed to control.
Here, I stand still. Here, I keep waiting.
I am the Council-Man and I decree,
All that you can do and all that you see,
For I make the rules and I am the law,
And no one best test me, for I command all.
Bow on your knees citizen, for I will be King!

“Once I have made rules, to control every-thing!”
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Chorus, 3 voices
Icarus

Act 1

Chorus
We/we/we, chorus of three.
& Icarus

Chorus–1st voice
Lived once a father and a son

Chorus–2nd voice
Daedalus, the carpenter

Chorus–3rd voice
Icarus, the son

Chorus–1st voice
Banished, both, for the sin of one, to an island on the sea.

Chorus–1st & 2nd voice
They walked the eastern cliffs. White seabirds wheeling over them.

Chorus–3rd voice
Thus Icarus dreamed.

Chorus–2nd voice
And so four wings were formed of wood and wax and feather.

Chorus–1st voice
Daedalus, the father, to Icarus, his son, said, “If you disobey me and fly too near the sun the wax will melt. The feathers will fall. The wings will fail. And you will tumble like Phaethon into the sea and die.“

Chorus–All
O Icarus!

Chorus–All–silence

Chorus–3rd voice
A voice!

Icarus
I

Chorus –All
Icarus!

Icarus
Demand! Deny my father’s lies,
Sin-born, sung in fear, of men hidden under darkened skies–

Chorus–3rd voice
Fists clenched, and down

Icarus
Or die!

Chorus–2nd voice
Like flies, wings torn and every eye to heaven

Icarus
Die as Daedalus! Who, having slipped too near this rock to fall but down,
Praised the gods!

Chorus–1st voice, whispers
Care, Icarus!

Icarus
Hell–a lesser man, for having tasted heaven once, he turned,
Chose this Earth and green Aegean sod.

Chorus–one voice
Amend these lies!

Chorus–another voice
And end to night’s deep dark

Chorus–another voice
And oily skin!

Chorus–All–whispering
O Icarus!

Icarus
Command! Ascend!

Chorus–one dancing, arms wide

Icarus
And dance as I
Above the gods and boundless starry winds.

Chorus–All dancing

Icarus–soaring

The End
.

Amend has an old meaning– to put right.
Blair Baker Nov 2014
Though life abounds with blossoms bright,
fed and watered, nurtured right;
And trees along the river bank,
strengthened so, display their might,
Saguaro, YOU surprise me most
and give the desert dwellers hope.

Alone, you stand in arid sands
without your roots in greener lands,
yet strong and tall and bright, command
my respect and awe.

Deep inside your prickly skin,
you've stored life's sunshine deep within;
Though scarce the raindrops from the sky,
you've captured each and treasured, "MY!"
If I could be like you, what heights I would achieve.
And revel in acceptance that, like you,
I'm planted right where I should be.
Mike Virgl Jul 2018
In my backyard lay a sound
     a humming buzzing
          flying low and high
I searched for it in the yard  
     my ear tuned in              
          to that light, cute, noise
I said out loud "bee your flight, is mystifying"
     and the buzz got louder
          "I just wish to see what you like"
The Buzz flew between my eyes
     "bee, my god, your stripes match with shadows and lighting"
          the bee flew around my head in joy
Once
     twice
          and many more times.
"So let me say hello bee."

And I said it many more times
     the bee loved
          how I would check in
A low hum would always greet me
     every time I went
          to my backdoor
In the rain I would go outside
     to make sure the bee
          was kept dry
"Come here bee let me grab a leaf"
     "come fly under it"
          the bee would buzz
And so in the rain, I kept that bee dry.

And soon much time passed
     and I wanted to
          get that Bee a cage
I laugh at it now
     It’s just silly
          "a Bee cage"
I called my Bee
     with a soothing voice
          "my Bee I have something for you"
The Buzz I loved came near
     low and high it flew
          my Bee did come
And so I tried to coax My Bee into my cage

My Bee would not come
     no matter how many times
          the command was given
"My Bee why won't you come near?"
     "just let me love you forever"
          the Buzz just buzzed in front of me
My Bee seemed to want to fly away
     but couldn't leave for a bit
          because of my grieving face
"My Bee I love you"
     my heart said
          as my tears leaked onto the floor
My Bee started me straight in the face

"Let me say goodbye Bee, let this be goodbye."
I CAN BE WRONG AND STILL BE RIGHT
IS THE REAL PARADOX TO HEIGHT
A LONELY PILGRIM LOSES SIGHT
OF ANSWERS THAT COULD BRING HIM MIGHT

AND YET TO SEED THE ANSWERS CALL
THE STALLION IS IN ITS STALL
HE’S NOT PREPARED TO TAKE THE FALL
FOR WHAT COULD BE IS CLEAR TO ALL

THE ENDLESS PARADOX IN SIGHT
THE TRUTH OF RIGHTEOUSNESS TO KNIGHT
I FEAR TO SEAL MUST FLY HIS KITE
AND PRAY SURREAL COMES OUT TIGHT

ACROSS THE ANCIENT CASTLE WALLS
THE DEMURE TAINTED SHADOWS CRAWL
TO FORM THE MORNING’S CLEARING CALL
EFFUSIVE ALLUSIONS , IRRELEVANCE FALL

THE ECHOS FROM THE GROTTO SWELL
LIKE MEMORIES OF ANCIENT HELL
THAT COMMAND THE OCEANS TO RESEND
THE LOWLY FORCE WITH WHICH THEY’D BEND
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