There's this guy who constantly gives me grief online
as if I need a reminder that I am not funny or smart
that I am incapable of posting any story without his remark
as if he should impart and bestow all of social media
with his divine and seraphic academia:
what is with that?

He posts comments about how illiterate my poetry is
how it doesn't follow the rules; the do-nots and the do's
pontificates how its not properly punctuated
as if I should give up altogether and just shine shoes
and forget trying to construct sentences
just wander in the carousel of nebula's
eternally seeking the tentacle of enemas:
what is with that?

This guy enjoys winding me up like a persistent hobby
the reverent devilment of sadistic entitlement
pushing my head under water for a digital baptism
that I should thank him for his rhetoric enlightenment
as if he was blessed with a correspondence talisman:
what is with that?

This isn't even a poem.
I am letting off steam like an overused kettle
fed up of his mortar forever rammed in my pestle
the temples are raging and my brain is just draining
to explode on cue on the next digital heckle
the cracked and broken vessel
into a vengeful steam-driven projectile:
what is with that?

This, < here > , is my only escape
and creative cathartic vent
I'll post this lament
with the stench of discontent
and tag his name and then just wait
for his feverish malcontent
that I should dare to
prevent his God-like dissent:

memo to self
to a digital antagonist
and his verbose verbal cyst
and the keyboard of twists
when you push
sometimes you get
a big shove back
so don't be surprised
by my riposte
and this poetic attack.

Great Expectations


The moment after you were born
(which apparently was a great miracle)
they slapped your ***
took your footprints
wrote your name on an official certificate
wrapped you up and sent you home.
The doctors said you were healthy:
your parents said you were better than that.

And from then on you were to be exactly that.
Excellent in every way.
Tall.
Charming.
Wide-eyed.
Witty.
Strong.
Unbreakable.
A statue will be made of you.

Affectionately inscribed to
shine in the sun,
you've no need to know the darkness:
only the weak waste their breath
reveling in the moon,
howling the night away.

Great care was put into raising you.
You are not to take it for granted.
Do you not know how high
your parents had to fling you
for you to hit that pedestal so monolithic?

Expecting you to fly
without asking if you feared heights
or sought the soft grass instead.

Expecting you to eclipse the Sun
oh, so long you stared into it
asking how to fly so high
sun in your eyes
darkness burning in.

Expecting you to See the World
in all it's brilliant beauty
with those eclipses in your skull
with the abyss open eyes.

Given a pen to write great words
but I guess they never noticed
it had no ink.

Big bulging eyes expected to see everything.
Eyes taught to see the flaws in everything
eyes with nothing better to look at
but televisions and mirrors.

The bathroom mirror where you first realized
that you weren't good enough.
Hours spent staring at some ugly stranger
too proud for friends
too quiet for fame
too tired for talent.

A living collaboration of flaws
held together by bits of pasty skin
broken bones
and dark eye circles
by all the times you were called a failure
or all the times they said "you did your best"
but you called yourself a failure anyways.

Eyes like mirrors seeing eyes and windows
and eyes and glass barriers.
All those eyes swirling around you
seeing what they want to see,
you can only hope they don't see too much.
At least you've grown cynical enough
to know they're not looking for much to begin with
but even still your stomach grows weary.

Here you soar at the prime of your youth
surrounded by mirrors
eyes full of fluorescent lighting.
sleepy and stumbling.
Confused as to how anyone could
think of you as special and grand.
Confused at how everyone else is so much better
at simply living their lives.
Like they really didn't know that Life was
the hardest thing there ever is.

Words fallen upon distracted ears.

Eyes that are full of Life
but only the brighter half of it.
Eyes as windows staring at screens
texting all the silence away.
Eyes that are lost in Life
loving and living
taking every step forward
without feeling the weight to ask why.

Oh, and here you are,
sitting, perched on a street bench
watching the passer-bys go about their day.

Looking at those strange eyes
trying to see what they see.
Trying to see how anyone could fail to notice
that sad statue staring there.

All those times you watched
the ones you loved
stand in inconsolable silence
but if only you knew what to say...

...
Nights quiet

the sheen of the abyss reflecting their
sorrows back at them.

You found shelter in the darkest corner of existence
still expected to converse happily
still expected to live with a smile
still expected to hide your unfortunate understanding
of the way things really work
the lead role in the tragiccomedy of your own life
set on the absurd stage of our own gravity.

The gravity that is every day of your life
the aching in your bones as the alarm goes off
the stagger in your step as you stumble forward
the tears at night as you have to do it all over again.
The only thing temporary are those
crashing moments of happiness
that shine bright
but disappear with the thunder.

You're expected for great love
but you never expected the way your heart pounds
and your stomach turns
when you fight back the tears
standing naked there with your darkness hanging out.
Staring into a devastated face
seeing in perfect form a heart you've shattered.

It's like they don't know just how burdensome
these great expectations are.

But perhaps -- most importantly --
they don't understand
the beauty of a sunrise after a sleepless, crying night
or the gratitude felt from finding a legitimate hand to hold.

You are expected for great things,
but then again,
everyone thinks they are.
But you,
but me,
but all the rest of the people like us.
Let us leave this place
with the preoccupations and the pedestals.

Our bodies torn and torn again
worn down and weary but somehow
still stepping
strengthened by the expectations
we exchanged
for a peaceful sunset
and a good night's sleep.

For that little light
that we forgot shone
in these tired, confused, marvelous eyes.

Feel breath upon milky neck
give yourself
the sacrifice
for unchained paradise
and the gifts of life.

Thrusting forth upon such shapely form
the rise of golden **** and the
glide of swollen *******
such feline majesty
such magnificence of deviance.

Lay hands on nubile skin
deft and swift precision
straddled in muscular passion
the reins like a flowing mane
gracing the arched spine in pleasure.

Tilted head stretched
exposed form
catching dancing shadows
in the eternal midnight.

Call my name
as if a name
were a pulse wave
of unreserved expletives.

The chastity of yesterday
innocence lost in devilry
offered freely
like a gift to the gods
empower revelry
chemically.

****** Deeper
Give Give Give
again and again and again and again and again and again and...

No refrain
awash in pagan sweat
doused and dripping wet
revel in cobalt aquas
close in the rise
of final exaltation
the Alpha stanza.

BOP/bop BOP/bop
hearts beat out of time
heaving breath
encased in bone and heated skin
consumed in the juices of forever
and the pleasure of
pagan archaic sin.

Skyscrapers jut towards the heavens
middle fingers to Mother Nature
or sun-bleached white ribs of some poor beast
who tangoed with a toyota
and lost.

The stench that wafts through the streets could easily strip paint
but the locals don't seem to mind.
They march through their mundane Mondays
like maggots in goose-step.
The cacophony of their carrion communion is grisly and deafening.

Garish billboards burn
obscene advertisements onto assaulted retinas.
Street salesmen descend upon naive tourists
like vultures after fresh meat.

Policemen **** and pillage
what they were sworn to protect and serve,
and the Mayor's fungal tendrils
reach deep into the criminal underbelly of his city.

The voracious human hunger for wealth
knows no boundaries.
The grey-on-grey urban tragedy that is this concrete corpse
is always changing. Growing. Advancing.
however, it is not without waste.

Abandoned asphalt arteries stretch as far as the eye can see.
Somewhere, in a derelict parking lot, a flower is blooming.

We may spit in the face of Mother Nature
with every tree we cut and river we dam,
but soon she will be the one laughing
over our shattered
concrete
corpses.

Pity party, pity poison,
pity is pretty *******
at your Pompadour proposition, your Pompeii proposal.
The judge and jury blame  your execution;
you thought the tri in matrimony meant three
in love when it really meant that you're the third wheel.
You hoped I'd kiss and tell in your world of wedding bells.
Go to hell.
You smiled as you beguiled with false feminine wiles the
boy of miles and miles away, hoping that he might stay
with you instead of her.
Well, this is his answer, and, dear failed romancer,
you won't get that last dance.
Her love was pretense in past tense,
events not recorded in your history book hips.
Ah, a novel idea: you, John Green with envy,
tried to bend me to your whim.
Tried, but your pride died when I sighed
and said that I loved her, so you booked it
from the floor and seemed gone forevermore,
a footnote in the lore until you...turned into a *****,
came to me and said that you loved me more.
That is wrong.
Strike the gong.
This is a correction.
Your insurrection of our connection turned
affection into an infection,
and don't interrupt with your **** interjection--
were you expecting an *******?
Because you're getting a rejection,
so keep your confection objection to yourself.
You hoped to trace my face, take first place or third base,
leave no space for even lace, and half of lace is empty space.
I should have brought mace.
You are jelly in a jam, so your ham-****** attitude
led the lamb of love to slaughter;
the s leads laughter on, standing for ***
(check male or female),
stimulation, squabble, ****, ****, sext--
a wrecked relationship sinking, sinking,
and being nearer, my ******* God, to thee
makes me sick between my bulkhead bones.
The iceberg of your persistence
puts up its last resistance,
but it melts, melts, melts, in water hot as hell.
Is it not plain as you the pain you put me through?
You, with two left feet, hope I'll cheat the day we meet
on the girl who was your friend, and you've done this
once before.
Your dainty hopes that you could go two for two
with hearts and minds disgusts, and your lust broke my trust,
and I must, must, must ring the bells.
Class dismissed. I hope you've learned.

Once I had a garden,
built to spite my constant gloom.
I planted hope and happiness,
those seeds will never bloom.
I had hoped that all the rain,
would see the ground be rich.
But it seems my little cloud
has only proven to restrict.
Now within my garden,
but one lonely flower grows.
The oddest rose I've ever seen,
with petals made of bones.

Destructive tendencies
You are wandering now, fallen
In this forbidden
Torn apart wasteland that is your forest
Your mind
Trees fall as you collapse
Sobbing to the floor
Wishing for it all to end
Overwhelmed
You break, again and again
New scars riddling your body every day
Every moment tearing your sanity anew
Making you cold
Frozen to the bone with anger
Fear
Longing
You stumble across the line you've drawn
You never wished to revert
A tree you're climbing
Hand over hand to emerge
Atop the fragile canopy
As if made of glass
Cracking under the weight of your sadness
As you panic, frantic
Looking for some release
Some escape from the terrifying
Cold
Shadows surrounding you
Sliding over your soul
Caressing your heart
Tantalizing your mind with thoughts of pain
Of screams locked up
Never to be released to anybody
Doomed to torment you forever
Like the terrified call of some beast
A last noise of suffering
Brought short by others
Treating you as some snail
Pouring salt deep into your open wounds
Into your gouged out eyes
Your mouth agape with a constant, silent scream
Tearing your hair out
Covering your ears
To repel the constant torment following you
The forest
Once black
Now stained a ***** red
Towers overhead
You only want to escape
To hide
To see the light from the darkness once more
To stop the searing pain of the past
Reminders bringing about rage
Bringing hate
Polluting your life
Your pure colors become *****
A white sheet dragged through a rainstorm
You cry out in pain
Frantically searching for the invisible enemy
Who hates you fully and completely
Laughing hysterically at you
Driving you almost over the edge
Pulling a blindfold tight over your eyes
Dragging you toward a dark ravine
Jagged, dying plants littering it
But look, in your blindfold
There is a tear
Through it, light is shining
Mysteriously, you are released
The rag is untied
As you peer through the inky darkness of the forest
There is a clearing

here you are.
at a ******* standstill.
sitting on the fence of taking leaps, or going back to sleep
breathing in all these insecurities.
it’s sick because theyre not worth a ****** thing, not a ****** thing.
cry for all the things you wont do
cry for your sick, sad world
cry for the doors you close, for the windows you wont open
suffocate yourself, discourage every spark from turning into a flame.
all the things that give you thrills are gone, and going.
******* fleeting.
look at you, left behind
alone with your crutches and your boundaries.
*******. *******.

I see a sadness in the eyes of conformists —
and I see that same sadness in the eyes of those
convulsing radically in opposition.

In others, and in my own.

Each are lingering at a window of perception.

As they want to be engaged, engage them.
Listen to them, and be listened to.

Both will have lent each other liberation
from their chains of perception,

because both will have gazed
through each other's windows —

I used to spend my days people-watching,
but now I spend my days window-watching.

Releasing my attachments
to states of sedentary perception.

Walking through the universe's
gallery of infinite windows.

Exploring the galaxies of the minds of others,
and exploring  galaxies of my own.

Every star — an eye;
a window to another reality.

Standing up from my complacent seat!
Sitting no longer at my dusty window!
Breaking my gaze from my
oh so cherished glass!

Breaking my chains,
discarding my burdens.

This is the only way that I can truly explore!

This is the only way that I may truly be free.

I want to explore the sensual map that is your body,
My hands and mouth the tools of discovery,
Caressing, licking your precious land,
Until your sighs become moans

A network of nerve endings,
Electrified
Mapping your ecstasy
Until you're aglow

A body erupting with passion,
A land erupting volcanically,
Molten magma flowing,
Scorching euphoria

My bed is a mass grave
My toilet is a mass grave
My kitchen sink is a mass grave
Stretched out in lines of chrysalis coke, choking the evanescent life that could have been. Straight into the empty Coca Cola can you go. A litany of atrocity in every bed, futon, desks, truck stop bathroom, camera lens, attempting to capture the genocide on film.
Alas, the lens is Covered with white, bioluminescent death.
Choking the unborn in the ****** drain.
Coffee mug refill, for but a single dime,
sweaty palms connected to strained veins on wrists,
connected to thrusting elbows.
Firing wrist rocket, V2, V1, buzz bomb.
Unsuspecting future citizens, blocks of thousands at a time.
Tadpoles, rotting in murky basement suits the world over.
The war is on.
Auschwitz, Dachau, Sachsenhausen.
Arbeit Macht Frei.
Swim for dear life

i breathed you in
and filled my lungs
with every ash of you
inhaling every smoke of you
they say i’ll get sick
they say i’ll die
of too much cigarettes
but they didn’t know
i’ll die if i breathed you out





—you, my cigarette

I saw it coming

And

then it was right there;
in touching distance.

The

could've been
would've been
should've been

But

she faded
like a photograph
left to curl in the sun

The moment passed...

and then
she was gone

I remember you, all plain and empty
Your towers and sidewalks were mere thoughts
I see your smoke, as it’s made
Billows of twists and haphazard crisscross
I remember you, do you realize?
That I was the one that saw you when you were so young
So faint
Do you remember?
I don’t mean to push you,
you were just a half a thought back then
And even so, we spent so long together
I remember that day, when it was just you and I
And we were simple and organic
Your buildings so silly, your true face still hidden
I smiled
And I like to think sometimes
That you smiled back

I passed to you a magazine with
An article on Love and Loving.
'Here - look at this', was lightly said,
- With grin and irony of look -
'If you want to know about love...'

Then back to screen and papers, emails, work.

Quiet for a space in open plan humdrum.

Then looking up: your hand, the magazine.
'Yes' was all you said.

But your eyes
Were full and dark and teared in pity
For you.

For all the World.

Hope doesn't perch.
Hope isn't a smiling face
among a dismal crowd.
Hope isn't the light at the end
of the tunnel.

Hope is when the crows
grow full from the carrion of
a dead lamb and rest.
Hope is when the old man
having forgotten himself years ago
falls asleep one last time.

Hope is everything you've needed
after you didn't need it anymore.
Hope is the time after the noose tightens
and before you fade away.

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intro:
teddy bear teddy bear turn around teddy bear teddy bear touch the skyyyyy....
chorus:
i sleep with my **** like its my teddy bear cuz its my teddy bear like it like it my teddy bear
i dream of those leaves they are everywhere they they are everywhere
V1:
i wake up and the smoke disapate
i was so high last nite but now its a different day
if i were ****** tested it would be to there dismay
i cant wait till the cash bounce back my way
order some more kush its mi main entree
now here bad ***** smoke some john deer
we dont gotta be hicks to take a couple hits
got tht **** burning like a wick oh **** i cant feel my face
drip....
chorus:
i sleep with my **** like its my teddy bear cuz its my teddy bear like it like it my teddy bear
i dream of those leaves they are everywhere they they are everywhere
V2:
my teddy bear alwas got me feelin safe
im in the air like will & grace
hahahahahaa ***** i spit in ur face
come here baby come get a taste
i never knew green was a flavor

The colors of the sun run,
like damaged tapestries.
Painting the sky surrealistic
and I wonder what it means to me.
Light reflected from waters surface
glitters for a moment then refracts,
A million different directions
leaving more questions than it subtracts.
How many lives have sparked and died,
within the never ending depths?
The waves receive the query
and to the bottom it gets swept.

Voice in the sky
God forgive me
Stars in the sky
God forgive me

Calling my name
For the times when I was wrong
Guide my way home
Hands from the sky rip me open

Choices I've made
God have mercy
A place I belong
God have mercy

Prices I've paid
For the times I have sinned
I've been lost for far too long
Suffer begin

Hands from the sky
Stars in my eyes
Rip me open
Scars on my skin
Suffer begin
Suffer begin
Unfriendly end
Heaven let me in

you were so young, it was so wrong, we went too far
newly bloomed, fully flowering, once a girl, now a woman
a mutual attraction, too strong to ignore
a subtle seduction, of a man, just moments a boy
who seduced whom, who crossed the line
i couldn’t help it, i was mesmerized,
by the whispers of your blue eyes
your pouty lips, deliciously wet, glistening red
dangers foretold by a warning sign
i resisted, as much as i could
i lost my senses, to my youth, and your beauty
i was drawn to the flame, like a moth
i was captured like a butterfly, in the spider’s web
how could i escape, when the siren calls

(c) Dec. 15-2005 John Stevens

(V1)
When trouble comes around you
And you don’t know where to turn.
Look up and see Jesus standing there.
He will take all your sorrows
And give you peace within.
Just look up and see Jesus standing there.

(V2)
When love seems so distant
And you feel lost and alone.
Look up and find Jesus waiting there.
His arms are open wide for you
To take you as His own.
Just look up and find Jesus waiting there.

(V3)
When hope has all but gone
And darkness closes in.
Look up and find Jesus kneeling there.
He is reaching down to lift you up
From the pit of despair.
Look up and find Jesus kneeling there.

(V4)
When joy comes upon you
And you don’t know who to thank.
Look up and see Jesus smiling there.
His grace does surround you
His mercy brings you through.
Just look up and see Jesus waiting there.

(Chorus)
Look up and see Jesus
He waits for you to call His name.
Look up and see Jesus standing there.
Look up and see Jesus
Receive His gift of love for you.
Look up and see Jesus standing there.

(tag)
He will take you in His arms of love
And give you peace within.

The kinetic energy
contained in this resting pencil
will soon be let out
in accelerated shouts and whispers
and the odd word of wisdom.
Just wait.
You'll see.

Life’s ostensibly dead weight pulls downward, maddeningly consistent in its campaign to fell him.
Its moribund song is maniacally hummed by he who seems to mourn with his limbs as he walks,
Soul skulking petulantly as suicide-bees formicate wildly beneath his scalp;
He dreams of his post-mortem feast.

Gazing intently at his doodle-strewn bedside wall,
Cringing as he reads those scribbled aphorisms he had erased the day before,
He wonders if the bees were ever really there in the first place.

He writes, ‘Ire-inducing idleness. Vapid, vacuous days;
He is man’s antithesis, ****** from sentiment.
His is the syphilitic brain of one filled with disdain
For all those who threaten his thinly-veiled comfort,
The thespian of truth, he’d play the faux jumper.’

The elevator comes to a halt.
Exiting, he sees someone has left the door open for him.
Climbing cautiously to the roof, he is met with an angry gust upon stepping outside.
The solemn timbre of T. Yorke resounds as he drunkenly stumbles across the pebble-laden surface,
And as he sidles along the ledge he realizes that nothing is infinite.

Yo
I think life’s pretty fucken neat
I wish you could think the same,
See the reason I don’t believe in a thing as hate
Life is faint but it ain’t
Faint is life but it ain’t
(((Repeat
Betweeens (((-except when it is is & when it ain’t it just ain’t
You know what I’m sayin’n
Or shall I try to explain it a bit more
Some more words;personal experiences to which relate in at a variety of ways expressing it to each in your own unique way for the other own mind which doesn’t perceive things the same , hardly close to even just alike
I hope you feel me and the words I’m tryna say with the words I’m speaking in paused uttering words
We all have one way to millions of ways
And millions way to just one way
Why hate but not appreciate
Appreciate but not hate
It ain’t so complicate except when it is
Just fall in love with that
Express it your unique way
Try to relate and express the reason it is
Expressing the way you see it, tryna explain and find a means to the others knowledge understanding, expressing what how it seem
Haha
Wait, tf I say right there
Tf do I even mean
I’m not even sure it makes sense
To others or even just myself
I don’t even really care anymore
Bout what I was tryna say or tryna remember what it I was I was tryna make relate
It’ll come together later
Or maybe it ain’t till 68years later , in outerpace, between the lines of two lines of five
Lol jk but you see what I mean
Later

© 1-07-04 John Stevens
v1
He waits at the door of my heart this hour
Knocking so gently for me.
To answer the call, through His power
To be all I can be.          
The choice is mine to make this hour.
To accept or reject His love.      
The choice I make for eternity
Will decide my life for above.

(chorus 1)
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?  

v2
Will I invite Him in only on Sunday
And set Him close to the door?
Then invite Him out when church is over
When no one's looking any more?
Will I when Monday morning comes
Forget the lessons He taught?
Of love, forgiveness, grace and more
By His blood on the Cross He bought.

(chorus 1)
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?  


v3        
Will I do the right and shun the wrong
In the work that I perform?
Not leave my faith on a hook by the door
Until the next Sunday morn.
Will I park Him outside some of the doors
Of my favorite places to be?
And pretend it is ok to do the things,
I'm ashamed for Jesus to see?

(chorus 1)
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
Will I turn my back and walk away?
Will I open my heart to Him?  

v4              
The lessons I have learned today
Must not be shelved tomorrow.
For I've been set free to do His will
In all happiness and sorrow.
He cleansed my heart- all the rooms.
And the closets so dark today.
His love shone 'round in all the corners
The gloom and darkness went away

(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will open my heart today

v5
I will open the door, invite Him in.
I will give Him the key to my heart's door
I will give Him control of all my life.
I will love Him forever and more.
I will listen to His every whisper.
I will do His thoughts for me.
I will praise His Holy name this hour.
I will shine His light for others to see.

(chorus 2 )
What will I do with Jesus?              
What will I say to Him?
I will open my all my life to Him
I will open my heart today

v6
When my heart is breaking from the pain
Of things in my life I start.
He is there the moment I breathe His name
He mends my broken heart.
I have been forgiven by His blood
My sin on the cross He bore.
I have been forgiven, cleansed by His blood
I bare the guilt no more.
Chorus ?  

I have been forgiven..    
Praise His Holy Name.                
I am forgiven.........
Thank you Jesus, today.

-----------------------
He waits at the door   Calling for you
To open your heart     To let Him in.

What will you do?       What will you say?

Version 03-29-2004
Mod.9-27-04

I carry an ocean of regret and longing,
Things I never got to say,
Before you went away,
But these streams of poetry
Slowly drain waters roiling,
While thoughts of you are gently boiling,
And time ticks by with every exhalation,
But this love has no expiration,
And I have no explanation,
And no expectation,
And this awful want knows no reason,
Growing no less with each passing season,
Like a virulent plague spreading,
And a dire end most dreading

Attraction** is a curse,
It's quick and fleeting,
or it's burning and everlasting.
Love can be real.
Yes, love is a concept,
yes, love is an idea,
to make us feel safe and protected.
The only truths in life
are pure.
Liars and fakes
surround all of those who tell the truth.
They take and destroy
those who wish for a better life.
They strike down new ideas,
and they steal from each other,
not realizing
that none of their inventions
are truly theirs.

lemon, a touch too artificial
sugar, a touch too sweet
in an owl painted mug, a touch too hot

that first sip hits like a memory
it drags with it the smell of coffee
       black, no room
and the taste of your name
the sound of a coffee shop
       of a donut shop
blood orange slices and citrus frosting and paper straws
       soaked
              soaking
                     disintegrating

the memory dissolves alongside the straw
and the back of my throat burns
at a touch too much
it rings in my ears, trailing behind Freddie Mercury
crooning about how he doesn’t want to die
       i told you i didn’t want to die anymore that first night
and i pretend i don’t hear you singing along
i pretend you didn’t see me cry on the side of the road
       for two hours
i pretend i don’t miss the way you held my hand
i pretend
       i don’t
              miss
                     you

V1
Oh, how the moon shines on me tonight
Always needin' some stimuli
Gettin' used to it, you say to me
Just another life under the stars.

Chorus
Love to ride the see-saw
Yes, love to ride the see-ee-saw
You love to ride the see-saw
Up, down....up, down.....
Up, down....oh up, down.

Rode it many times
Always get away
Always flying high in the sky to lo-o-ve!

V2
Tomorrow, we ride the rhythm of another wave
Lying, facing each other, so close
Silently staring into each other's eyes
Nothing said, 'cos words fail soooo bad! CHORUS

V3
Listening out so well for your steps
Don't be such a fool, it's only a car
Kiss your feet and touch your heart
We need to ride our chakra together.

Chorus
Love to ride the see-saw
Yes, love to ride the see-ee-saw
You love to ride the see-saw.

Up, down....up, down.....
Up, down....oh up, down.
Rode it many times
Always get away
Always flying high in the sky to love.



S T, 02 June 2013

Let us dethrone this ***** little clone,
put him back in the barn where he belongs;
next to the other dozen standalone stepping
stones collectively gathering dust to the dome.

A collection of crazies chasing overblown
daisies in a field of belated phrases. Like,
"Three lines should get you going, Homie!"
(I love you)
how about
(NO! *******)

Where's your patience? Did you check the back pages?
What's a death race without 1st place?
It's death before dishonor or have you already forgotten?
All we ever wanted was to flagpole our importance.


Crusading sapiens stay pounding their chest
while these invading aliens blend in with the rest
and I'm two pills past drunk waiting for the pending
blimp on your radar to changeling into a Death Star.

© 1-24-2006 J.L. Stevens
V1
Oh Mary do you see your Son
High upon the hill?
Your Son has come to this world
To do His Father’s will.
Behold the Lamb Oh Mary.
High upon the cross.
Behold the Lamb who shed His blood
To rescue you and me.

V2
He finds me in my deepest need    
When darkness comes around me.
He gives me peace in my soul    
And sets my spirit free.
I am baptized with His Spirit
He meets my every need.
Behold the Lamb of God
High upon the throne.

Chorus
Behold the Lamb of God
Who takes away my sin.
Behold the Lamb of God
Who cleansed my heart within.
My name is written there
In the Lamb’s Book of Life.
He is the great I Am.
The Savior of the world


Chorus

End
Oh Mary you are with your Son
The Savior of the world.