If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day till eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do, once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty, except for the memory of how
They were answered by you

-Jim Croce (1972)

After Beck kin me in One Direction, and thence
Upon meeting me (in am i am the walrus who also
doubles up as mister kite - on windy days) Act Naturally
Because Crying, Waiting, Hoping For No One
in particular who will bring delight lite, like Good Day
Sunshine prompting me to perform The Hippy Hip
p Shake while Seals and Crofts dine with the late Jim Croce.

When we r close and come together, I Want To Hold Your Hand,
I Want To Tell You,  I'm Happy Just To Dance With You
The Inner Light from your being guides this fool on the hill
who needed to Get Back To The USSR boot my B52 combo
Cars getup kept Stalin this Joe Schmoe as glanced up
at passersby along Penny Lane.

Lonesome Tears In My Eyes this Mother Nature's Son
(a grown mwm),  Of Love, this modest no name brand Sun King (Elvis) at two score and nineteen Van Halen ZZTop Young Blood, who sweat his tears completing Orbitz in tandem with Earth, Wind And Fire (On A Three Dog Night) for...someone to call my Eleanor Rigby, He Jude, Honey Pie, et cetera.

Friend this Marquis De Sade light skinned (caucasian) sated bloke,
who (on green Sade Doors days) ambles along the boulevard of broken dreams axe sing (as a Petty Fuel doubting Tom
please axe a Pink Foreigner or Devo tad Survivor (asper this
Heart felt gun shy yet rosey guy) to board the pearl jam AC/DC powered Reo Speed wagon to Nirvana, particularly during a Black Sabbath.

Although aye Faith No More (and doo to Bad Company abetting my bad Hair line),I seek a SoulAsylum, where Our wings could travel charged via a super duper AC/DC Def Leppard shaped device at the speed of a SoundGarden while playing in Marcie's Playground, we Nsync like a Led Zeppelin into the depths (comprising many a Puddle Of Mud) ideal for Rolling Stones unable to Journey intoAerospace amidst Talking Heads.

If an absolute nyat, no, nada...sans the opportunity for us soar
like Eagles (where Air Supply quite thin) then I (Joe Schmoe
Money less), would like me Nickelback to purchase a ZZ
Top hat to travel incognito like a Foreigner and Survivor
of Earth, Wind and Fire maelstrom that turned his Motley Crue
into a teenage wasteland of Indigo Girls.

Tis best for this fool of a Meatloaf on the hill
Envision himself to be a Killer Grateful Dead Talking Head
   now lifeless per being terminally ill
   tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my pail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr the place name along rail road still
and quiet even for Lady Madonna
   who might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.

Our Wings could travel at the speed of sound
as we rise like a Led Zeppelin into the heights of Aerospace.

If an absolute nyat, no, nada...
the opportunity for us soar like Eagles
then I (Joe Schmoe Money less), would like me Nickelback.

best forU2 to text this fool on the hill
tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my Nine Inch Nail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr former place name go win n One Direction (with me self as a former groupie of Traveling Wilbury's) rail road still  
might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.

aye ham a non Blondie passenger, Who once
didst aboard Jefferson Airplane property of one Joan Jet.

This offer meant for U2 and haint no Cheap Trick
nor available to another Super ***** boot a once in a lifetime Luvin Spoonful of one humungous Kiss.

from -- juiced another beetle browed, civil chap, decent dude,
genteel guy, eclectic edified egghead, a Foster Child with preference for Pearl Jam Goo Goo Dolls, who goes by the pseudonym
of Arctic Monkey Beastie Boy.

PLEASE TAKE THIS LIVE YET AIM LESS, GOOGLY EYED, EARTH LINKED, HOTMAIL OF A YAHOO WANTS TO GO ON A SECRETE MSN i.e. mission. SO PLEASE HELP ME >>> JUNO WHAT I MEAN?

     scrawled about 150 years ago with me sharpest nicked n jagged finger nail while temporarily holed up in a dank damp dungeon before being rescued by scrooge.
--------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------
      Light snowflakes danced across fuzzy lunar beams casting moon shadows of absolute delight - at least until morning the morn o Christmas broke.
     Uncle sam and partner in grime (one union jack) joined ranks to rescue me.
     This bro British gentile ben (who likes converted rice) pull went on their beat, which result equals this swift tail lord n harried style scribbling.
     As evident dis lit writ fellow enjoys bending, deploying, experimenting, gripping, illustrating karma (his) thru words.
      That then ***** (epitomized in countless burlesque chaplinesque productions, dickensian tales, oil paintings some from artistic hands of great masters and others from anonymous exquisite painters, et cetera) remembered nothing of his birth or childhood.
     My amorphous gauzy, hazy memories solely comprised fragmented collection of miserable memories, which epitomized living a hellacious hand to mouth hard scrapple existence.
     Past and now present existence seemed a worse fate than death.
     The overpowering urge to survive as one foreigner against depredations of the grim reaper found me daily fending off real and imagined threats against daily/night grind.
      Yours truly dug deep within his bony strength in an effort to mustard every last ounce of strength to avoid the skull n crossbones that tried like the dickens to ketchup with me.
     Although cursed with nefarious fate in tandem with a measly looking specimen of thee human varmint, this then grimy, grungy, rangy, et cetera looking being clung with all the might to his five foot ten inch or so tall and one hundred and forty pound body.
     I tapped into survival skills and summoned willpower to stay alive and bear this heavy cross of ***** poor poverty.
     No matter a hard-core skeptic at heart, this cynic plaintively called for divine intervention to help, this human piece of flotsam and jetsam to cope with living like a junkyard dog - name o Jim Croce.
     In essence, this ignored and shunned vagrant frequently raged against the machine and found figurative and literal lovely bones that picked at mailer demons that tormented his psyche.
     While he traipsed along the boulevard of broken dreams (before the end o September came), a torn and well-worn shoe kicked a of couple pointed items.
     One comprised colorful jagged shard that in a previous lifetime housed some cheap fermented liquor.
      Nothing but crud filled the remnant of what looked like a ***** guzzling hounds favorite drink.
     This solitary sojourner never felt drawn to drown out moi sorrows by turning to the bottle, cigarettes nor drugs (a respect for thyself existed), though an automatic reflex found ma fingers to grab this eye-catching drunkard’s lost memento and wireless device.
     This tangle of webbed, weird wired mesh constituted a dullish metallic uh object generated by ac/dc charges, which turned out to be a heavily damaged MOTORAZR phone.
     Out of some foolish embarrassed instinct, I cradled then rubbed this remnant once containing some amber liquid of the hot ***** shaped stone temple pilots of the dogs.
     In mockery against cosmic consciousness, my mouth jabbered away into the mobile phone.
     No sooner did these chafed, course and cracked fingers slide across the unbroken surface of said bottle in with my cracked, frozen and parched lips uttering some plea, a crackle, snap and pop delivered a lifelike goddess.
     The mp3 player began issuing syncopated beats indicative per some previous owner favorite play list tunes on this electronic contraption.
     This vision and auditory music definitely brought a sobered Judy e shall punch to moi cloudy sense n sensibility flush with pride without prejudice.
     I clapped mine nearly deaf ears and thence rubbed mein kempf gnarled hands across nearly blind myopic eyes.
     A maiden suddenly appeared in plain view.
    Disbelief found me as some pretender to feign acting like a beastie boy to use said cell phone and speak in a matter of fact tone of voice.
     She (in a lilting, melodic and sing song tone) responded with casualness as like a genie appears (alladin like) everyday.
     General conversation ensued (albeit fraught with a bit of apprehension and self consciousness) before the purpose of her presence became clear.
     Immediate difficulty arose to think of one wish to alleviate grievous humiliation and immersion in misery at the dog forsaken hour of 4 after midnight, yet we carried and decamped.
     Rather than blurt out the immediate favorite offering for untold riches, I surprised myself and communicated a desire for female friendship.
     A gamesome gal who would surrender herself for cries and whispers seemed more important than any pile of wealth.
     Awareness and self-actualization about my utter decrepitude appeared as immediate deterrent toward attaining a bona fide sincere relationship.
     Nonetheless, This ordinary and reasonable ambition appeared as a lofty goal.
     Self absorbed in this rambling, jangling and longing of the body, mind and heart, I quickly became oblivious to an imaged or real corporeal presence, which spurred such an outpouring toward this ostracized and unwanted vermin.
     Eyes wide shut loosened tongue in an effort to picture the escape from pernicious malady and crushing blow of an abominable lumpenproletariat existence.
     Lips shut tight prevented the woebegone loss of what appeared as some divine trickster who conjured such a muse out of thin air.
     Upon winding down this unrehearsed recitation, a painstaking effort got made to open the eyelids very slowly.
     Wanton soupy pleasure ala a side order of Lo (mein), and behold when this nattering noodle ling manifestation in the actual guise of a gorgeous gal.
     She stood still as a statue, and remained rapt with attention.
     Provenance and providence found pleasure in prattled patois.
     A promise uttered to remain as permanent lass despite many who considered this writer nothing but a wretched pestilence of earth!
     Those comedy of errors leered at this kingpin of words ceased to punctuate one anonymous life with angst-riddled tragedy.
     Pleasant great expectations found all’s well that ends well.
     My ****** innocence, naivete, and nonchalant Tommy knocking cruise across the byways, country roads, and superhighways of this awesome World Wide Web found me sequestered in seventh heaven.
     This frenzied, mad as hatter Caucasian man found himself pleasantly ensconced with a down to earth woman, who playfully grabbed, man-handled and pinned down this artfully flirtatious fellow.
     Thine force-fed (with but a feeble protest) feasts of feverish foreplay found flaccid flesh to become primed for penultimate probing in the primary female plantation in that verdant tropic of cancer.
     Merry widow and 2000th wife who dwelled in a system with Windows 98 subjected this gentle guy to pleasant uninterrupted interludes of gentle felicitous ecstasy devoid of prophylactics for greater intensity of ****** experiences.
     Each countless caress upon thy body politik sans gorgeous gal begged to be fondled ushering (from the chamber of pheromone secretes) that pined to boot for her lil hills of Rome, which miniature towering inferno of ****** exploits dwelled in my over active imagination.

Every time I see your lips,
The way they move when you talk to me,
Those eyes when you look at me,
So intensely. I’m in love. Deeply.

I’m hurt badly, deep down.
The sorrow of a good heart.
Just wanting to be loved,
Just wanting to be yours. Truly.

I want to hold your hand, firmly.
Hold you close to me.
Stare into your bewitching eyes,
Till the end of time.

I want to say “I love you baby.”
But sadly that’s something I just couldn’t.
Cause you weren’t here no more.
Not here to say that you’re mine.
Just when I realised, I’m in love with you.

If I could just go back in time,
To all the times we’ve been together,
I would like to save all our moments,
In a bottle just like Jim Croce.

If I could just see you again,
Kiss you on your cherry lips,
Tell you that I love you,
In your warm embrace.