It doesn't matter anymore
Not to me anyway
Why should I care what you think
Do you ever think of me
  
You're so full of greed
Because you consumed it in the eighties
And they bait you in the states
With their american awards
  
So sad, such a sham, what a shame
It doesn't matter anyway
Not to me anymore
You're no comedian but, celebrities are all the same
  
Shooting lifesavers
And wishing on falling stars
So you can smoke more on the corners
And drink scotch at the bars
  
Shooting lifesavers
Like the fake friends that they are
And discovering more to life
When it's too late to start a fire
  
It's almost over now
Don't be ashamed
For the things you did you had to do
In sunshine and the rain
  
So don't you worry your poor head
or even try to try explain
It doesn't even matter now
The rest can live in pain
  
Shooting lifesavers
And wishing it would end
So all the torment Devil gave
Would get you in again
  
Your friends are shooting lifesavers
Because they want to live
But are their lives worth more than nil
If they haven't any give
  
I would rather end it all
Then shoot lifesavers again
So i could save them up, then give
My lifesavers to my friends

The numerals II Sir I to another
alphabet
ABC* confession
DEF feared_***
My bowl spilled my
heart soup

Have Merci Beau-coup
The S was left alone my survival
Do you love my eyes primal
He points widely- tribal his
marriage finger my editorial
Be kinder strawberry sugar high
Do you want me to bite down
on my wafers
-I for the Ivy League his polo loafers

He's my (Lifesavers)
The bow and arrow I met my
dark sparrow what a rainbow
So intrigued my mystery arrival

Why on earth do you want me down?

To focus staying upright but kinda
Tight-Net gown

I am not a falling we have eyes
The face to face prize to be eyed
The Carribean
That Native American
Johnny Depp
When I make my first movie wish

The pirate birdseye rash
Al Dente ziti  Eggplant Parmigiana
The headless horse Dante always neighs
kills me on
Valentine day hearts lucky horseshoe

Eyes have frozen bird's eye
They thought I was
the sweet pea
He knocked me off
My Twitter tweets
  
I am the writer don't flood
My words everything is shaking
This is the Godly earth

So confused we feel-tightly squeezed
The earthquake head over heels down to our knees

She is sipping her tears down
In her chamomile tea thumbs up
The world is evaporating
like the dead sea
Bring everything alive I am
counting to 1*2*3*4*5

Down to my last words
I'm staying alive my life is more than
A Saturday Night Fever
But feeling down to my sunrise
Your heart deeply graved
I will betcha life has
more downs downward

Even when you wake -up upward

No way out of expensive
price tags we need to save
The give or take to remake
We need to finish not at
the end of the line

Where we were left off
Whats yours is mine

Sometimes you think
you are down
But life has you
well planted

To say I do
With his mind enchanted
Let me go up---++

The spirit is a complicated thing
I got wits to carry on anything

I need more guts
Now Bill said I do
Oh! No love me to please
me as I do

My Bill is always waiting
at the upside down table
Like the will-hunting
For God sake who is on first
Going up with the bucket list
Feeling down to adore me
You're going down Oh! Christ
Don't push my buttons
the elevator
I saw your Realtor
going to
The Skyline Hilton

I-O-U trillion hearts that were
down and wasted

Falling eyelashes no surprise
That stock exchange stars fault

Money lip up and honey
eyes down
Do you want this in singing
or shall we both go down
drowning

I'm going to wash that
man right out? And sent him on
the way he's gone
The brainwashing Scientology
misery loves religious company
Like Humpty dump me
His "snoop dog so sad eating
like Pig whistle steak
Peeping Tom sales week
Anthony Perkins down to seek

The sprinkler shower
Hitchcock scene French Tickler
At Tiffany's Audrey
breakfast jewels Ruby
Hanky Panky pancakes

Like the Amazon in Prime
With fruit slashed smile
Love to love you baby at
Perkins eggs are dreamy
The shoot of ringlets hair screaming
Niagara fall and action roll fall down

You're a shade too hurtful
The red-brown chair or orange perk me
up the crown the Gala gown me

Life is so unkind why
do people smile
Going in and out the door
The rush the high like you could
mop her curls up but your hand down

Feeling inside the apple of the core

The teapot all fenced in pretending
The downspout- you're up-sprout
He's the roundabout -handle
A stranger is routing someone
is always cursing
You're going down

The game sports ball out
And your always looking
down at me when you
talk me out

Like a ring fight
falling black eye
Where is our coffee down
to nothing, she got a pink eye

Her words spilled over
upside down
pineapple printed dress

Having a breakdown
Do you want me down
I am the New York City girl
A clap of party hands
Uptown

A figure of speech when you get
lonely go downtown
To my number
address 13
what a lowdown
In the Wizard of Oz,
the  cowardly lion
crashed the window
My only lip Solo so low

My computer froze my red
rose wilted
I couldn't bring my smile
back to suit you

They were jumping for joy
Do you really want to
love a tomboy
Almond eyes of candy
Grease me down
Sandy
My pretty pink illegally
Blonde pill
Google on down with Bill

Joining the falling down crowd
But no one had a clue my face was
falling down all-stars feeling blue

They come on to my clean
sheet of paper and leave a Rorschach blot.
They do not do this to be mean,
they do it to give me a sign
they want me, as Aubrey Beardsley once said,
to shove it around till something comes.
Clumsy as I am,
I do it.
For I am like them -
both saved and lost,
tumbling downward like Humpty Dumpty
off the alphabet.

Each morning I push them off my bed
and when they get in the salad
rolling in it like a dog,
I pick each one out
just the way my daughter
picks out the anchoives.
In May they dance on the jonquils,
wearing out their toes,
laughing like fish.
In November, the dread month,
they **** the childhood out of the berries
and turn them sour and inedible.

Yet they keep me company.
They wiggle up life.
They pass out their magic
like Assorted Lifesavers.
They go with me to the dentist
and protect me form the drill.
At the same time,
they go to class with me
and lie to my students.

O fallen angel,
the companion within me,
whisper something holy
before you pinch me
into the grave.

Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom)

“a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed
a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds.
to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally

“Sweet baby
with your head on my shoulder
I'm no more growing older...” Pradip

~

the unpredictability and randomness of the winds,
seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard,
powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic,
           who can grow others       who can feed    
                             who can sustain multiple living creatures

each seed unique, a poem composed and complete,
authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors,
utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun,
rainwater from space and deep driven to
the clear milk of underground railroad rivers,
to give nurture to its revisional generational code

these new children of an old mix,
are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive,
that those who will one day grow old,
with deep gnarled roots, are most capable
of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within,
to those who give babies homage, in attendance

this then the newborn miracle, the new seed,
wind borne, replants itself in old soil,
taking but more so giving,
injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry,
how can this be?

I do not know the why or the how,
but am evidence of the therefore,
and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom



7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents

some years back, not too difficile to recall,
revive and animate those memories of love and disasters,
but the distance is comparable to half-a-dozen
eighty day trips around the world, many frequent
flyer  miles accumulated with trips to love disasters,
interspersed with the days of shock and awe believing
(sigh) that stumbled, fumbled my way in what we silly
call true love, which is really the high of believing
that you deserved the easy way, but now know, there
is no easy way, and romance is a hard earned privilege,
and sensory deprivation can  fool you, absence makes
you vulnerable, don’t be vulnerable, stand up right,
**** out, and eyes smiling but phasers on full, nonetheless…

this not a downer, but a dis-claimer, even I claim the
never be sure of the 100% foolproof methodologies for
discerning the genius of genuine,
when the risk is the reward
maybe when your 22, even 23,
you’ll be better at true discernment,
but until then be wise,
there is no saving the day,
till your knees are scraped,
and crackling and cracking
heart seem like the same thing


but they’re not
do not confuse
causality with correlation
love is not your cause, be-all,
or even the end-all, do the  work
on your self to betterment
24/7, knowledge to be wiser
comes with vive les expériences!
and

someday you’ll senses will be tickled,
and the aroma of possibilities will
arose that dormant hunger, and may
be a correlation to another human in the
immediate vicinity, a man, swimming
in your moat without permission, then,
check him out and maybe, jump in,
once you’ve passed the red cross lifesavers
test, cause the murk is murky, and is never
fraught with just rose water, but jump a
few toes in and if you’re still sinking,
hell he’ll
find away and give him the rope to help
you climb a board, yeah, a broad tough as
clear varnished nails with a heart radiating
the nuclear fission of Strontium 90.

I asked which flavor you wanted.
You answered,
*"Whichever one
you don't"

i reached for you, a safety line
you turned around, left me behind

self destruction like burning bridges you know full well you'll drown without
being reckless with your rafts and your lifesavers
and feeling the heat of the fire prickle your forehead,
beads of sweat teasing your skin
and making it impossible to ignore the deep water already lapping at your feet,
clearly prepared to completely engulf you in liquid darkness.

self destruction like inhaling the fumes of a hundred toxic promises,
made to you by old would-be lovers;
sugarcoated words and lies roughly covered in white,
feeling the poison seizing up your struggling lungs,
fingertips flicking through dictionaries with cracked spines:
desperate to find a word that isn't even there.

self destruction like breaking hearts that aren't yours for once,
just to hold the power of corruption and allow it to make you bloodthirsty,
much like slaughtering ants beneath magnifying glasses,
watching them struggle and turn to unrecognisable ashes,
whimpering half hearted apologies whilst trying to convince yourself
that you are not a bad person, but simply a broken soul.

Smells like Gun Powder in the empty room
tainted by the aura of damaged memories
feeling my armor worn out and weary
going down the stairs, the lights are fading
warm blood in my hands like a distant afternoon
I'll ride shotgun with a shotgun like in the old days
and we'll make a right turn on memory lane
just make sure to stop at every corner 
so I can blast your remembrance away.
 
Smells like Gun Powder on my side of the bed
where for the hundred time you ask if I'll be ok
I wish I had some Whisky,
it sure is wishful thinking
in my dreams I am always sober,
somehow never drinking
quite the opposite of the real life I lead
I can always count on my nightmares
to always find you here
in our worn out bed fully clothed
facing the window
and your face clenched in sorrow
is a moving talking picture.
 
It's pouring down again
in the forgotten ghost city
we take a turn towards oblivion,
where you surprised to see me?
under the leaves of an old tree
contrasting the projects brick buildings
incessant rain flows from our eyes
like a fluent turbulent river  
wondering if I should build an ark
or if it would be worth the pain
and take a wild shot in the dark
and save us both from this fast sinking boat
how did we even navigated the sea of love
without lifesavers to keep us afloat?
 
How did we lost what was so hard find?
Smells like gun powder every second of my life
my emotional ammo gets packed on an old Colt 45
a revolver that turns back the hands of time
I'll measure every word, retracing every step, 
without derailing my train of thought
inhaling the gun powder
like the ashes of this love
trying to give my Spotless Mind
Eternal Sunshine at long last
in the basement tied to a chair
I came to find myself...
barely clutching my fate in one hand 
and what's left of my conscience on the shelf.

Windshield wipers
slappin' time
Grandpa drivin'
Grandma singin'...

Goin' home from my
weekly Wednesday visit

after my mama died...

only   allowed
one day a week
with Grandma
my mama's mama...

Always a stop
at the store
for one more
Golden book
and a roll of Lifesavers
on the way home...

and I remember
my  tears
going back  to a place
that did not feel
like home
and Grandma singin'
"You are my sunshine
my only sunshine".

My tears are fallin'
now
with the memory
of her voice
and the sight and sound
of the rain...

Grandpa drivin'
and Grandma singin'....
and those windshield wipers
they were slappin' time...

cj 2016

fools, ,you see ted bunny and ronnie biggs are saying the fools have been trapped in my snowstorm

and in the category 3 cyclone marcia in queensland, nobody listens to the ploy of cronus and barry allan

even if they are trying to keep them safe, and ted bundy who flew around aistralia trying too make

marcia and lam, really ruin australia, and keep these americans trapped in snowy weather, keep kids from

learning, by closing the schools, and cronus with barry allan’s help, was trying to get people to rally together

to make everyone happy, and safe, we can’t save everyone, but we could ****** well try

and then ted bundy said heh heh the fools, thinking these waters are safe to swim in, but ted isn’t shy

he is evil enough to make people lose their lives, we must listen to authorities as opposed for doing the

right thing, you see they call this nature, i call it cosmic attack, a really fierce cosmic attack, nobody can

see the clear sky ahead, in order for people not dying from this sort of thing, and that is, don’t do stupid things

ronnie biggs also is making the category 3  cyclones marcia and lam and a terrible snowstorm in the states

you see these vicious killers are doing more harm here, than they did on earth, they are ruining families

from all over the place, and elvis presley cancelled his neptune concert, to make the jewish messiah daniel

who is his earth body, to think that he needs to start thinking of trying to save people from these terrible

snowstorms and category 3 cyclones, you see, he thinks he is forcing the cyclone probably, but we all know

that ronnie biggs and ted bundy are forcing them, i think this country concentrates too much in celebrating

the jewish messiah’s previous life, and making him sleep like a pack of rich arrogant *****, but even if he

wants to work anywhere, he wanted to get into library studies but instead of that, he is playing all over

the planets, singing elvis is a schizophrenic and everyone seems fine with that, but, instead of looking

at relief web. int, you should help us finish off ted bundy and ronnie biggs evil and cunning plan, to

force the dreadful end of the world, you know what i think, if people listen to lifeguards and not going

out to these fierce seas, the end of the world wouldn’t come, we must pray to buddha, that these people

are safe, so when marcia hits, they are not out there battling the cyclone caused by ronnie biggs and

ted bundy, please, buddha help, cronus ands barry allan battle these dreadful spirits, ,and make the

storm ease, there are a lot of snow trapping innocent americans and all ted bundy and ronnie biggs

can say is heh heh heh, these fools are falling right into my trap

PLEASE BUDDHA SAVE THESE PLACES, MAKE PEOPLE SAFE BUDDHA

MAKE THE SURF LIFESAVERS, WORK HARDER TO PREVENT PEOPLE GOING OUT

MAKE PEOPLE IN THE USA, JUST SIT IT OUT

UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM

ronnie biggs and ted bundy are sitting in saturn club rings saying foolish earthlings

they are falling right into my little trap

I remember it being cold that night.

It was the first time I had walked away
and worried I was leaving something.

It wasn't the kind of cold that
cut
and made itself at home in your bones.

It wasn't even the kind of cold
That strained every breath to feel like your last.

But I could feel the wind biting at and hanging from my ears
while it whispered.

But my mind was moving too fast to make memories,
It seems to never have the time anymore.
But it saves pictures
like polaroids.

Fast flashes of things passed
like whiplashes and mass stashes
of three picture days
of everything
and you.

Flash:
Legs around mine, light jeans, fluorescent lighting.
My heartbeat heats at the thought of it.
My back feels numb.

Flash:
Your smile in my headband, *******'re beautiful.
I think you threw your head back and laughed.
My arm tingles where you touched it.

Flash:
The sky was slate. Your eyes were asking me their first question.
I wished I had chalk.
But you already knew the answer.

I try to tell you now what you already were then,
But there aren't enough words in the world to tell you.

To tell you that your eyes looked like lifesavers.

To tell you that if I could,
I would develop my dreams at the nearest hour
drop shop and lay each frame out
like a quilt
and a collage.

(Because my mind is full
of a kind of mess that is never less
than warming.)

I would tell you that I hold your words under my tongue
To make sure they're always delivered warm.

And that if I leave them in there long enough
the fire starts.
My words melt into mercury
like ice in boiling water.

And I tell myself,
That if anyone really knew the heat,
They would stay the hell out of the kitchen.

But I made you something.

These minty memories burn the back of my throat.

My heart shakes like
The bottle I pour my coffee into.
I remember you and I drown and drink
the ocean trapped inside, brown and
two and a half times lighter than your skin,
two and a half times more than the coffee I should be drinking.
That night was our last in the same room.
You sat beside me to escape your sleepless lonely limbo.
My head throbbed and the way my heart raced then

and the way the storm crashes the air and breaks the trees and blows the rooftops
        and drenches the world -

is the way
I refused to swim in the brown seas of your skin.
The waters might wash rafts and boats and lifesavers
to the shore where I am standing
But I know that before the sand and the trees
there was a sign that said
‘No Trespassing’.

Intoxicated I stumbled and grabbed a raft of brown arms
and stepped on the black stones of your face
and slipped into your sandy smile and
buried my face into your green shirt waves.

No Trespassing.
The words loomed over my head
like the clouds that filled up the sky so much
that there was no sky -
and somewhere out there, like God in the clouds, she was
looking at me,
looking at the way I grabbed a bottle and swam in her seas.

hypocrisy is something that comes easy to me.
often feel the words falling out of my mouth but never taste what they mean.

lips know exactly what words to whisper when tear stained cheeks and broken pieces appear;
spent years formulating the right kind of glue to put them back together.

i find myself throwing out a never ending supply of lifesavers,
without even a cloud of thought to what might happen to my small boat with all this extra weight.

sometimes, little holes emerge on the worn down wood,
and suddenly all my passengers jump ship.

stuck figuring out how to fix them on my own,
most often they are covered up with only bandages.

every so often, my procrastination becomes bad karma and we both sink.
thoughts heavy like an anchor, my body lies contently on the ocean floor.
water filling my lungs like the feeling of giving in fills my frame.

self love is the biggest storm i’ve ever had to deal with.

lost at sea since i was ten years old,
it was then that i became acutely aware the space i took up.

had rolling hills occupying places where my best friend had only plains
and my smaller self never really felt small.

fast forward to the present,
where i’m often not present because i have made myself little in the only way i could.

now made up of whispered opinions and avoided eye contact,
i wonder if my younger self would smile at the thought of being slight.

i can teach you how to be content with yourself.
i can talk you through the motions.
i can tell you that i wouldn’t change a thing about you and mean it.
i can love everyone but myself.

Can the ocean really get flooded?.
when the ocean in my brain gets flooded ......

my thoughts are tangled up
in the tornado twisting and turning
in my head surrounding my brain that fight
through the tossing thoughts, emotions and
feelings that my lips may have trouble speaking
my pen is the oar I use to pull my drowning soul
out from the troubles waters

The ship wreck of words sail through
the rough thinking waters running fast
causing a whirlpool headache as they
fight pushing and clawing at my brain walls
yet surviving thoughts that were able to brake
free from the storm of depression they smudge
a trail through the dripping wet ink falling from
my oar of a writing pen dragging behind the
clustering drift wood of lost words smearing
through the lines of the solid land of paper

my brain calms down a bit to inspect the
rest stop of provided free range of open
writing space clearing the way for all the
injured broken pieces of memories and
lost thoughts that were still floating behind
the mind is trying to stay focus by thinking,
searching for any surviving notions or ideas
that hangs there on the tip of my tongue

tossing out the remembering lifesavers to
pull in other surfacing thoughts that wants
and need to be revived from the fallen debris
clustered crews of gathered thoughts form as
my pen holds the ink of hope and inspiration
dragging my down confused depressed soul
to safety by writing my trapped untold story

ink its flowing through the valleys of paper
marking detailing the saved unspoken words
freed from the clutches of depressions prison
my brain can now release its story through my
scrawling pen that I hold in my writing hand

There are always traps of frustration, confusion and
depression; which is the worse pitfall of them all
the war from the thinking process is never over
preparing for their battle I take the action to grab
the already loaded weapon for writing; the "INK PEN"

I don't believe much about the afterlife, do you?
But it's real, I mean really.
How do I know
Well, I can tell you.

First it starts with the happy part of my life.
We got Married it was a beautiful June day.
Not a cloud in the purest blue sky.
We gave our vows
I had prepared mine.

I said
I was in college
I wasted my spare cash on a Motorcycle.
I needed wheels right?
Of course, I crashed it on a bend that I took way too fast.
She lifted up my head and looked into my eyes.
I thought I am dead she is an angel right.
But i was not dead and she was a woman
A beautiful woman but still earthbound
.
She said does it hurt are you in pain.?
I said agony, not pain
She kissed my lips
And she gave me a pack of fruit flavoured Lifesavers
Only the favourite food of my sweet tooth.
And here we are six years later with our son Ben.
Getting Married.
A thing she swore she would never do.

She said her piece
Thank you for not dying that day
For I am not sure I could have survived either
Because without you I don't exist.

The car crash was an accident that same  night
The rain that had hidden in the air we breath became a weapon of destruction
As it released the imprisoned water it held in magic within its structure.
The flooded road the  Dog walking across the country bypass
The sound of his head hitting the glass of the windshield.
The silence.


Eight years later

She had remarried
A second life
Far away from me
With my crutch of alcohol.
And distance.
She Blamed me of course.
Why did you not fasten his seatbelt?
He would have been fine.
I thought I did
But alcohol quieted the guilt

I drive myself crazy with guilt
But it doesn't help,
That's when the call came in.
I am a fancy high-end corporate lawyer now
Earning high six figures.

I had bought her out of the house
And couldn't sell it.
I was us when we were happy
When we were us.

The tenants had left it wrecked.
Where are all the good people?
I went over to the place
The inside was a mess broken glass
Windows smashed the place was a wreck.
But it had a fragrance of the happiness that once lived here.
I could taste it.
It was sweet.

Then I heard the noises upstairs in the attic
I pulled down the attic ladder and walked slowly around
Looking for the intruder.
Then I Saw him it was my dead son Ben.

He said hi Dad.
Wheres, Mom.
I could not believe my eyes and fell backwards
down the ladders and knocked myself out.
When I came around he was stood near me.
Dad where Mom
I said she's not here son.

Failing to mention her husband
and the two daughters he had from a previous marriage.
He said Bring her here Dad I miss her.

I called her
She did not answer me.
The man who killed her offspring I guessed.

So I drove over to her place and said you got to come to my house.
She came and saw Ben running through the house.
She thought it a sick trick.
And slugged me with the vicious right hook.
Calling me a sick *******.


After a week I told Ben I would get her to come
I went back to her place.
She said do you want seconds
I politely refused another punch.

She came anyway
And as she entered the door
Ben said Hi mom.
She wept in disbelief.
He said I pushed the seatbelt button.
It was me

We spent weeks with him.
I quit my job to be there
She spent way too much time with us.
But we can't let him go.
No way,
No way ever

One day I heard her scream
She said
I saw a woman here
In the chair in the corner.

I asked Ben
He said she's always here.

That's when she passed out with blood
running from her nose.
I rushed her to the hospital,


The doctor said you can see her now.
I put my arms around her and told her I always loved her.
And I gave her a lifesaver from the pack she had given me
So many years ago.

She kissed me and we were close again
No issue no sadness just close.
As we got home
Ben came to me
She is leaving with me. dad.
With the lady.
What lady I said
It's Grandma her mother
We are taking her over with us.

I cried as she left me.
I know she is the only woman in this wide world
That I will be this close too.

But it's OK
I also know in the passing years
Just a blink of an eye really.
We will all be together again.

If alcohol is a crutch for one's brain
then narcotic pills are a candy cane
not if you're looking to manage pain
(although those intentions can change)
but to hop on the sugar rush train
just know once the pez dispenser is drained
you'll have to walk all the same
after the sugar train sugar crashes
and you must escape the sugar ashes
of a powder overload
that people confuse with blow because you explode
once your sweet tooth is exposed
you can barely speak because that's all that's left of your teeth
and your only way of relief
is atop a pixie stick peak
surrounded by a cocoa ocean
perpetuating turbulent motion
so you look for sugarless lifesavers
like that's asking a light favor
after you spited neighbors
over candy flavors
but now you need their help to walk
they'll think you're nothing but talk
because you thought your cane was the kind used by pimps
but take it away and watch how you limp.

But do they gleam!
Their spots unseen.
The walls we climb,
aren't they divine?
There a spit shine;
not so disgusting.
Here a soiling secret,
but it's not rusting.
You may not like it,
so quit building it,
but it's here so you
cannot even escape
a world of crap,
while you keep out
the lifesavers,
that you've crossed
off the grocery list.
So obey the walls,
they're tall order.
Ignore the calls,
or the feint odor.
The greatest malls,
and all their *****,
you'll soon realize
are hopeless junk.

there were a lot of small lifesavers
but like the candy, they only lasted for a short while
and after the flavor of one was gone i would find a new one
going and going until i ran out and had to buy another bag
music was one of themwh
i would listen instead of think
friends were one of them
i would talk instead of sleep
dreams were one of them
i would dream with eyes wide open
writing was one of them
i’d write to keep myself hoping
you were one of them
but you were different than the rest
the others only lasted a few months
but your sweet flavor never left

Rising high
Burning bright

Simple phrases
Simple lyrics

unknown the impact
that it will have

Simple songs
change into lifesavers
Classic melodies
create life

Messages through a screen
ripple through lives of the unknown

Simple star
Hidden among the rest

But burns just bright enough
to help someone find their flashlight