Not all destruction happens with quickness, explosions, proverbial volcanos, and the such
Sometimes the sky falling to rest at your feet never thinks to make a sound.
Threads slowly being strained at the seams till they burst.
Stone cathedrals eroding as waves  lick  time into the sea.
Rain drips crashing through a spiders web silent as a whisper.

When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops & karate chops
were the same thing
I thought they were both pork chops
& because my grandmother thought it was cute
& because they were my favorite,
she let me keep doing it

Not really a big deal

One day,
before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
& bruised the right side of my body

I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it
because I was afraid I'd get in trouble
for playing somewhere that I shouldn't have been

A few days later,
the gym teacher noticed the bruise
& I got sent to the principals office
From there I was sent to another small room
with a really nice lady
who asked me all kinds of questions
about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie
As far as I was concerned,
life was pretty good
I told her, "Whenever I'm sad,
my grandmother gives me karate chops!"

This led to a full scale investigation
& I was removed from the house for three days
until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruise

News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
& I earned my first nickname

Pork Chop

To this day
I hate pork chops

I'm not the only kid
who grew up this way
Surrounded by people who used to say
that rhyme about sticks & stones
as if broken bones
hurt more than the names we got called
& we got called them all
So we grew up believing no one
would ever fall in love with us
That we'd be lonely forever
That we'd never meet someone
to make us feel like the sun
was something they built for us
in their tool shed
so broken heart strings bled the blues
as we tried to empty ourselves
so we would feel nothing
Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
That an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away
That there's no way for it to metastasize

It does

She was eight years old
our first day of grade three
when she got called ugly
We both got moved to the back of the class
so we would stop getting bombarded by spit *****
but the school halls were a battleground
where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
We used to stay inside for recess
because outside was worse
Outside we'd have to rehearse running away
or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
In grade five,
they taped a sign to her desk that read
Beware Of Dog

To this day,
despite a loving husband,
she doesn't think she's beautiful
because of a birthmark
that takes up a little less than half of her face
Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
that someone tried to erase
but couldn't quite get the job done
& they'll never understand
that she's raising two kids
whose definition of beauty
begins with the word mom
because they see her heart
before they see her skin
because she's only ever always been amazing

He
was a broken branch
grafted onto a different family tree
Adopted
Not because his parents opted for a different destiny
He was three when he became a mixed drink
of one part left alone
& two parts tragedy
Started therapy in 8th grade
Had a personality made up of tests & pills.
Lived like the uphills were moutains
& the downhills were cliffs
Four fifths suicidal
A tidal wave of anti depressants
& an adolescence of being called Popper
One part because of the pills,
ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
He tried to **** himself in grade ten
when a kid who could still go home to mom & dad
had the audacity to tell him "Get over it," as if depression
is something that can be remedied
by any of the contents fround in a first aid kit

To this day
he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends
Could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
in the moments before it's about to fall
& despite an army of friends
who all call him an inspiration,
he remains a conversation piece between people
who can't understand
Sometimes becoming drug free
has less to do with addiction
& more to do with sanity

We weren't the only kids who grew up this way

To this day
kids are still being called names
The classics were
hey stupid
hey spaz
Seems like each school has an arsenal of names
getting updated every year
& if a kid breaks in a school
& no one around chooses to hear,
do they make a sound?
Are they just the background noise
of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
when people say things like
kids can be cruel?
Every school was a big top circus tent
& the pecking order went
from acrobats to lion tamers
from clowns to carnies
All of these were miles ahead of who we were
We were freaks
Lobster claw boys & bearded ladies
Oddities
juggling depression & loneliness playing solitaire, spin the bottle
trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves & heal
But at night
while the others slept
we kept walking the tightrope
It was practice
& yes
some of us fell

But I want to tell them
that all of this ****
is just debris
leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
we used to be
& if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself,
get a better mirror
look a little closer
stare a little longer
because there's something inside you
that made you keep trying
Despite everyone who told you to quit
you built a cast around your broken heart
& signed it yourself
You signed it,
"They were wrong!"
because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique
Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything
Maybe you used to bring bruises & broken teeth
to show & tell but never told
because how can you hold your ground
if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it
You have to believe that they were wrong

They have to be wrong

Why else would we still be here?
We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
because we see ourselves in them
We stem from a root planted in the belief
that we are not what we were called
We are not abandoned cars stalled out &
sitting empty on a highway
& if in some way we are
don't worry
We only got out to walk & get gas
We are graduating members from the class of
we made it
Not the faded echoes of voices crying out
Names will never hurt me

Of course
they did

But our lives will only ever always
continue to be
a balancing act
that has less to do with pain
& more to do with *beauty

i think a lesson we all need to learn
is that you need to love
selflessly,
expecting no return.
love fearlessly
on a big scale,
climb moutains
cross oceans
for those that make you feel
like warm breezy summers
and pure joy.
you can't light someone up
like a cigarette,
just to take a drag
and stomp them out.
expect nothing,
and you will recieve
plenty.

the snow fell in alaska on a christmas night
covering the moutains with ****** snow so white
huskies they were barking to pull along there sleigh
to deliver presents on a christmas day
children building snowmen as happy as can be
filled with lots of smiles and lots of christmas glee
everything so peaceful on this christmas night
when snow falls in alaska its such a wonderous sight

got poetry to show to my friends but im thinking of deleting my twitter
my thoughts aren't as cool as I wish they could be, so bookmark my HP page for the updates
the summer is chillin and im going places my mom doesn't want me to go to
just because a place brings back bad memories doesn't mean I shouldn't be there
Im past all of the stupidness and accepted my foolishness, no need for the reminders my ego is drowning
my link on my insta no need for tweeting my emotions my tumblr is boring but so are your hobbies
im writing for some dollars for more pencils, im running out of them
i got some money but thats for anything that comes coincidently coincidence
no need for some pens because I cant erase mistakes with them
nhom site under construction so give us a few weekends our weeks are productive we hustle until we get it **** what you're doing
there isn't any way but the need way so excuse your missing bikes, we're 16 and we're foolin
we order pizza and write down ideas no time for galleria
we ride for adventure on two weels
interacting for promo no need for hiding behind some screens
my life is a run on but thats how it should be no time for breaks, sleep is an option lead is necessary
rooftops capture sentences paintings illustrate our visions
if you dont contact me then why should I
I should be humble but my account has 4 zeros, my mom dont trust me with it so I dont know the pasword
That child support is piling up, I dont really care
got miles on miles on miles on miles on miles ridden on my bike but I haven't gone anywhere but the city
Im aiming for the carpet so when we go back to school I'm bringing my summer
Got numbers as options but there's no reason to hit them up, got a good one I'm grateful
I'm riding fast my way don't slow me down, is this a comeup? I don't know I'm just going along
Come up from suburbs, I want to live high until my view is the moutains
Im from Dallas but that don't mean nothing, no city defining where I'm going because I was on the 26th floor when I was at my lowest and I wasn't even on coke
these days my grind is so lowkey, im sleep deprived
my paint never dries, my brushes are always getting washed but these projects aren't for the public
I only have a few questions, is love really real? should I sleep more?
i dont know but Monarch dr is gonna be in a book one day

So much emphasis is placed
On finding the face in the crowd
That makes a permanent home in your brain
On the way a small forest fire can sprout from the fingertip touch
Of the one
Who may or may not stay
Just like the feelings that seem too good to be true.
But what about waking up early just to be filled with the solace of a gentle sunrise
Or dancing to the radio while cooking tomato soup in your sunlit kitchen
Or rolling down your car windows despite the falling rain
Or pulling on your favorite socks after eating peanut butter toast
I want you to wake up in the morning and smile because you have a whole life to live          
I want you to learn to appreciate the way the light streams over the moutains at 7:36 in the morning
through the air laying heavy with people's thoughts        
and through your window screen
Where the light lands in speckles on your bed and seeps into your heart.
I want you to cook your favorite breakfast and ride your bike the long way to work.
The beautiful things in life
Are the ones that are rarely noticed by others.
Love seeps from the earth and from your skin. Don't wait for someone to hand it to you.
Feed it to yourself.

snow leapards they are lovely and such a sight to see
they live in the moutains roaming wild and free
hunting in the snow for any food thats there
rocky mountain sheep the marmots and the hare'

they live in a den on the mountain side
that is where sleep and somewhere they can hide
they like to live alone in there solitude
until the mating season when the females brood

but now there lives endangered soon they will be rare
poachers out to **** them they dont really care
selling of there skins to fill there money greed
killing when they can wiping out there breed'

we must try to save them before there gone for good
let them live again like the leopards should

After a brush with death
his eyes were like kaleidoscopes
the scene reflected himself in relation
to an ever changing world

he felt impermance
in an after glow
as the sun decended behind
the mountain's asylum

Soldier Summit's quieted railroad
an attraction to some
but for others a refuge
after a long and hateful dawn

May their souls rest in peace
those who eternally are blanketed by snow
and may the moutains speak
to the survivors who fight to reach the top of them

Stars above my head,
Gently caress of wind on my face,
The sound of song birds in the distance,
The smell of wild flowers in the meadows below me,

O life how you can be so beautiful.
O life how you can tempt me to be at peace.

Tall moutains around me tall enought to have snow caps resting on top of them,

Forests so lush with life even the deafest ears can here the songs of forest life,

O life you, you tease me with these sweets.

Even as I stand here in this meadow of flowers dressed in moonlight i can not stem this feeling of unease,

It's the knowing that at some point this will end this peace.

Because peace never lasts long.

I know no home
no more.
Clouds on window panes
are forgotten
at night
through the shutters.

Moutains rest on the calm water
bringing flavours of snow.

Flies,  
unwanted company, dozed and silent
walk on the door frames
and die.

white posts with red eyes
flash by with driven monotony
the trees a green-grey blur
in the early morning mist.

the beat of the wipers
poens the door to
memories...
as we climb into the moutains....

spiralling sprinklers,
and hiding before tea....
a bedroom of purple,
bbqs for dinner....
lavender patches,
the home of master jack,
the old black cat....

silver hair like a curtain
to her waist...
a silver brush, always,
one hundred strokes.

the smell of tonic and gin,
russian toffees melting
on my tongue...
jam jars awaiting filling...
and
a caress,
with bony fingers,
on a young  girls cheek.
a smile gentle and knowing.
a wave by the honeysuckle
gate...

The candle
will flame
for all
Eternity

Blazing through
every day
just like
Eternity

Moutains fade
trees die
through out
Eternity

No one
would recall
with out
Eternity

Eternity
will never
fade away

They told me.
Told me this is right.
I never thought to disagree.
Until we began falling from this lofty height.
I don't know how we got here.
Or where to go.
I can't tell you why my pulse is racing.
While my breathings slow.
I think this has been some sort of accident.
The kind you drive by really slow.
Never has the air between us been less passionate.
You smile, but all I see is the anger just below.
I've watched this love wax.
I don't think I can stand it to wane.
I try to hold harder the more this retracts.
Stuck in this whirring profoundness I can't explain.
I want to stop, but again and again it's all deja vu.
We are surrounded by moutains and molehills.
Perpetually waiting for the other to come through.
Held to some truth that constantly self fufills.
Yet, I just can't bring myself to leave us behind.
I cling, I fight, I pray, I hope, I wail.
because love is patient, love is kind...
They told me love will never fail.

Across oceans
Across moutains
Across islands
Flows like viper
Speed like lite
Thorns of pains
Deep down d heart

Compromising voices
Diverting hopeS
Ufailing memories
Uncontrolable tears
Beyond reach of man
He makes and own all
Unimaginable

Dreams cone as one
under the lights of city
of city hustling inside mind
Rustling breezes of letters
seeking stairs on your service
under the night of city
of city bewildered so high
here, dreams cone as one

the beauty gasp under the bridge
praised under suffocation
On sale for shillings
while truth flowing out of town
seek solace beyond moutains
and shines under moonlight
we hold hands with smile
with dream of our own
there, a star falls for each dream

there is lots of beauty for all us to see
the wonders of the world and all of this free.
the beauty of the land with moutains very high
standing very tall reaching for the sky
the rolling of the waves on a sea of blue
the shining of the moon gently shining through
lots of little birds singing out so loud
with lots of lovely bluebells growing in a crowd
the beauty of the sun bringing in the dawn
lighting up the day on a brand new morn
these are lots of things that world can give
giving us its beauty helping us to live.

there is a place in ireland where i used to go
so very nice and quiet where the peaceful waters flow
it was in a valley where i used to walk
in a little county that is known as cork
there was lots of beauty there with moutains and some trees
and you could feel the warmth from the summer breeze
there i would go to pass the time away
somewhere i could go to brighten up my day
id; sit there for hours in the valley green
so relaxed and happy in this lovely scene.

By Arcassin Burnham

Don't look,
Don't open my eyes,
inside,
I look within,
To realize,
What my whole deal is,
Lucid,
As it gets,
Take your pick,
Your the expert,
I got to leave all this behind,
Can't be like this my whole life,
Picking your poison,
And your ivy to,
Looking decent in your favorite jeans,
Worthy cannibal,
Yeah your pretty cute,
Pretty as in pretty , and as cute as the soul in you,
Look at whos...
Flirting with you,
So subliminal,

I-know-this-is-not-real,
Expl-aining-how-you-feel,
I­'ll-wake-up-any-minute,
Loo-sing-you is no big-deal,

Insomnia is coursing through my veins as we speak
In tongues and reminisce about the feeling of kissing
Your lips in my dream state,
Was so sweet like cheesecake,
With my knees straight,
Forward like I'm coming off as crucial to them,
My brain cells are dancing to all the track's of
Riddim,
She mind controlled me to make her lust when the
Lights were dim,
And all the other females are reality Sims.

I-know-this-is-not-real,
Expl-aining-how-you-feel,
I'll-wa­ke-up-any-minute,
Loo-sing-you is no big-deal.

/

I find peace and solace knowing that I show
forgiveness and all that comes to me,
Lacking a lot out of life still,
Walking through the streets with my head held high
with mental illnesses,
but still,
I'm a loser and I will always remain a loser but not in Gods eyes,
moving moutains with my words and Reminiscent dreams overcrowding,
i sleep still,
Even though insomnia has me in its clutches,
thinking that the devils gonna hold my body down for practice,
hes a coward still.

If you must,
Then hold him tightly;
If you must,
Then pray 'til your heart's content;
Whisper unto him your sweetest desires,
Beside either
Raging or dieing fires;
Hold fast his irises in your memory:
Brown as rolling rock,
Green as that Last Homely House west of the Moutains...
Adore the man, then,
Purely, honestly, hotly,
With every muscle and hair and bead of sweat
Your body can bear;
Love the man,
If you absolutely must,
And by all universal means,
Sing to him a song as gentle
As the very breath he breathes-

Unless, of course,
The man already belongs to me.

theres a little cabin by a little lake
that i often visit when my holidays i take
surrounded by the woods and trees so very tall
and a babbling brook by a waterfall.

there are lots of squirrels that are red and grey
and i sit and watch them gracefully as they play
there are lots of falcons hovering in the sky
and lots of golden eagles nesting near by.
you can see the moutains and the valleys in between
the leaves upon the pine trees with leaves so very green


i love my little place it where i long to be
makes life seem so real makes me feel so free

I lay upon the tranquility
beneath the stars
Wondering at the wonder
that made us who we are
The water's are black
but warm around me
I float like the ripples
of the surrounding sea .
There is a silence
that I long to know well
Somehow it's alluded me
All I can say is oh well
Eventually I wash up
onto the shore
I crawl up
like my ancestors before
I sit on the dunes
the sands of my time
That once were great moutains
made out of granite and lime
But before all of this was
Before even the wetness of sea
Even before there were
the great mountains that be
Farther back than
than any memories
I wonder where is the point
from where did I depart
to make my journey's home
to find a new start

A life with no regrets,
What a life that would be,
A life where you rember all the good and none of the bad,
Where love is the stuff that moves moutains not money,
Where life and love go hand in hand,
And where we don't have to say bye to our loved ones.

If only out dreams could
Come
Tire.

These Knights of shame
fell off their horses
at the beginning of war.
These nights of shame
at the point where her body is exposed.
These Knights of shame
whom rode through battle in fear of death,
instead of conquring death itself.
These nights of shame
when the drinks became to much.
These words are how I life my head,
in moments of the worlds shame.
This is my personal worship
when it's the Father and I.
These moutains are made of mere large grains
These bits of love are made form small acts.
These Knights of shame
are the guys I have fallen for before
these nights of shame
are something of my past.
I believe in a lot of things that might wind up
false.
But I can say that I have
Hope.
If you dont stand for anything
You are bound to fall for anything.

i'm the hirsute nectarine man
i speak soft streams of exegesis phonemes
i've got the mob in my hand,
they've got the cops in their pocket
hand me the cash! hand me the cash!
i'll take over the world!
i wanna get high!
i want my legs to be hundreds of feet long
and my **** to swing around my knees!
shove it in your face! shove it!
i am the archon!
i am the agelessness of ontology!
i watched the moutains crumble to dust
and i laughed, and i pressed the big red button!

my nightmare isn't any dreaming place
it's heaven on earth
what a wonderful world
where the sicknesses can come to play
where the tommy's and dandy's can frolic
and all the cats can get ******
and the warlords all chortle
and the bric-a-brac is never stolen!

i live in an amusement park
my soapbox is full of holes
but they just let the sun shine in
on the flowers i've planted at my feet

I sat on the edge of the rivers mouth, watching the sun set slowly behind the eyes of forever
There in the dusk a pack of coyotes approached me, they asked of my somber state
I said my sorrow was with morality, the thoughts of my death and the dismay of human suffering
One of the coyotes scarred with deep wounds from years of survival, approached me closer
He said I have been from the moutains edge of Appalachia, to the rivers of Savannah
Life is a fragile and cruel thing, our kind knows of the suffering of existing day to day
Life isn't a waterfall, it is the blink at which you do at the waters cascading down
Death is the pool which the water collects, all living things end up there
You must not ponder why, only ponder what to do next
For it will be gone human, as all things go
I merely looked and nodded a heavy sigh
The pack nodded back in unity, and carried on
And I looked back at the sun, disapperaing in the forever
So I took my heavy legs to a step, and walked from the mouth
To the limbs of Oconee, and walked to my place of rest
To ponder my next

I was the last man on the range
Hitting wedges

Moutains framed the range
In the distance

First full swings
Then half shots

There was a sense of oneness
With the environment

The silence and the stillness
Just the sound of the club striking the ball
The breeze blowing the dirt back toward me

As the warm breeze blew
I struck each shot so purely
I cried some out of pure bliss

That was true contentment

I can't explain
I love the game so much
And to hit the ball so well
And my swing feels so good

I've hit ***** in every season
Spring, summer, fall and winter

This is an eternal game

i sit on the bathtub's edge
weeping
not from grief,
tho i still wear it's coarse haired, grey cardigan
but from the pain,
emenating,
from my recently reconstructed leg.

broken and pinned
in summer, to all intents and purposes healed.
it and me have been ****** into the pre winter cold snap
on the moutains,
it is so freaking cold,
my breathe splumes
before me
and my poor mangled apendage, with the livid scars, where the bone had silvered through
is protesting with
a ferocious, throbbing ache.

i have tablets, and have taken them,  but i am in here
trying to warm the air with
the water running hot from
the shower.
i cannot stand long enough to stand under the water's spray yet.

ben, sleeps still,
in the other room,
he is exhausted,
from bearing the grieved desolation that is Laz.
he could do nothing to help,
at present, no one could.
but tried so very hard.
so i leave him to sleep......

...and hope the pills kick in
soon.

there is lots of beauty for all us to see
the wonders of the world and all of this free.
the beauty of the land with moutains very high
standing very tall reaching for the sky.

the rolling of the waves on a sea of blue
the shining of the moon gently shining through
lots of little birds singing out so loud
with lots of lovely bluebells growing in a crowd.

the beauty of the sun bringing in the dawn
lighting up the day on a brand new morn
these are lots of things that world can give
giving us its beauty helping us to live.

i watched the eagles fly on the moutains of mourne
along the mountain side in the early dawn
hovering high above flying wild and free
with there sense of freedom watching over me

with the mountain dew scattered all around
across the mountain side covering the ground
high up in the sky hovering high above
warms my soul inside fills my heart with love

brings a sense of freedom makes you want to smile
takes away your worries if only for a while
floating in the sky as gentle as can be
flying with such grace with a life so free

such a peaceful feeling fills your heart with pride
puts your mind at ease warms you up inside
flying over head  high up in the sky
watching over me as they gently fly

all along the mountains in the early dawn
flying wild and free bringing in the morn
with the mountain dew scattered all around
across the moutain side covering the ground

with there sense of freedom flying wild and free
fills your heart with love warms the soul in me
flying over head  high up in the sky
watching over me as they gently fly

My father told my sister and I that if we jumped and missed the ground, we'd be flying
And God, I believed him
We spent hours on that trampoline
Wore ourselves silly,
Got jabs from all the pine needles lost to the mesh from acid rain
Not allowed to come into the house until we hosed our feet off

We upgraded our efforts
My father had a pickup truck that we loved,
And we had umbrellas for walking to school with
We tried every height we thought we could get away with no broken bones
And we came close, I landed on my neck once
Morphine in the hospital is sort of like flying
Best attempt we had at the time

When I turned 18, I bought a plane ticket
I had to apologize to my mother, because I never stopped running away
We lived in the valley, and I always saw the moutains which enclosed us as a challenge
But she built us a home, our imaginary flight a simple trick to keep us grounded
It worked for so long, and she held on to her family
So it's only fair. She's earned this apology-
But I've earned this air space
I worked for the money, and paid for this ticket,
A guarenteed four hours of nothing but simulated pressure and clouds obscuring city lines

Before autumn passes, I will leave to wander,
Tread, tread, a small feeble thing swaying in the wind
Below lazy clouds that happily drift away,
In the distant shimmer of an endless sunset.

Leave to wander under the warm evening light,
And ask to be carried away, carried away,
Sprout wings and fly against a growing gale, but I,
Am left to wonder, how far I can be taken,
By an unsure wing whose feathers shake and shiver,
By my body whose hands are pressed against its chest,
Hoping to find its heart, still beating as it should.

Leave to be flown, over rivers, hills and moutains,
Riding the wind, up to a lonely aerie,
Where secluded, bright crimson autumn trees have grown,
Shedding, unendingly, their leaves into the breeze.

Arrive to sit atop, hugging my own body,
To feel the warmth filtering through to my fingers,
To feel my hair flare up and flitter about me,
Lit by the sunlight into a dancing fire.

Wait until the day falls into a gentle night,
Lie down, breathe slowly, softly whisper to myself.
And dream beneath a blanket of stars, forever,
As the careless carmine leaves float down and away.

Before autumn passes, I will be left to sleep,
Until the leaves fall to earth, the earth becomes dust,
Until the dust scatters, before the wind ceases,
Before the world falls silent, before the light dies.

I keep on waiting till blossoming trees start snowing
In the Spring, when all I want to wear is the sun and
all I want to taste is an aerial blue
And you
A someone you
To roll around in nature’s meadowy beds with
To build moutains and swallow oceans
I keep on waiting till I can love myself and hear myself crying something other than sadness
Crying something happy
Something satisfied
I’m going to learn how to breathe again and what it means to not be terrified
every moment of pitch black days
I want you to watch me
Swallow oceans
Build mountains
Taste skies
Wear stars
Remember my tears don’t always leave scars
And I can hear birds sing behind the veil of traffic and cars
And I can exist
And breathe

there is a place in ireland where i used to go
so very nice and quiet where the peaceful waters flow.

it was in a valley where i used to walk
in a little county that is known as cork.

there was lots of beauty with moutains and some trees
and you could feel the warmth from the summer breeze.

there i would go to pass the time away
somewhere i could go to brighten up my day.

sitting there for hours in the valley green
so relaxed and happy in this lovely scene.

the hell of winter snow

We walk in snow over hills  and moutains high  with our feet pushing through the  long flakes that penatrates our soul  making us  shiver   within a deep  snowfall. Our bodies freeze whilst we push  our hands through the snow and try to escape  with our lives while we struggle with the cold  temperature of  the deadly  frost of evil  the covers the country for an eternity of life.
We hunger for food and look throgh the deep snow  and  search for food and shelter from  the harsh wind of the east.  Our bodies   carry on  walking  to  the cry of  a desert land looking for  the light  and the warmth of summer  in all its glory.
We search  for weeks and months  in the  hell of winter looking for summer  to begin and see the birds  run around the grass in search of  food  and  hear them sing  high in the trees. The  people of winter   wait for the summer  to  start  and see the sun beam down  on  a  horrible  and miserable winter  storm that has   pushed mankind down  and held us in its grip  in the  this   horror of  life with no money and hunger to  pave our path
The final day has come we sing  and dance  with the warm  and caring sun has come  to smile upon us and  bring is happines  and laughter for all humanity  and  animals alike.  We  give thanks to our sun  and  sit back and enjoy  its love  and tenderness until the cold of winter comes  back for all to see
written by wayne mocker
copyright and ownership wayne mockler

i love it the moutains with it rocky tops
and the mountain music it just never stops
fiddles and  the banjos puts dancing in your feet
dancing all day long to the mountain beat


grandad plays guitar grandma mandolin
jake he plays the fiddle umderneath his chin
slapping and a clapping  to a moutain song
all the folks join in as they dance along

dancing  to the music to its mountain beat
males you feel alive puts dancing in your feet
good ole mountain music it just never stops
high up in the mountain with its rocky tops

grandad plays guitar grandma mandolin
jake he plays the fiddle umderneath his chin
slapping and a clapping  to a moutain song
all the folks join in as they dance along