Vibrations
Sense the tiger
Louder and louder
Screaming and screaming
Pouncing apon the tree
Loudly screaming
So gleefully
Vibrations

Tree isn't sure
The tiger is right
Snake still had
The hardest bite
If only it were true
If only it were right
That the fur of the lion
Would jump back with fright

The tree set about
Telling his tale
Of lions and tigers
And the wind's harsh gale
Jamming and painting
Fresh air burning high
Power
Power in his eyes

Signs are showing
Which way he's going
But he's not sure
If this door
Is true
Or if it is
Quite simply put
A wolf

Wolves are so quiet
Playing
In the clouds
But the mist of that height
Cleverly shrouds
The wolf's true
Intentions
With the snakes new
Vibrations

Wolf pounces high
And swallows the snake
Quickly and violently
The ground starts to shake
The tree can't believe
He's looking at her
The lion standing there
With a new coat of fur

Tiger bounce over
Tiger please leave
Don't disturb the peace
Of the lions and the trees
The moon now realise
The tale, oh so quaint
The stars now realise
It's time now to paint

You asked me to trust you
And you expected a reply
I saw it in your eye.
But I hesitated.

You grew worried,
Unsure of yourself.
So I pointed to the shelf
Where all the pictures stood.

I knew that you finally understood
As realization dawned upon your face.
So I told you a story to erase
All of the tension that had built.

You asked me to trust you
And you expected a reply
I saw it in your eye.
But I hesitated.

You asked me questions
As I told my tale.
But all I did was flail
As I tried to explain.

I revealed that I couldn’t trust
Not when friend after friend
Brought an end
To every relationship.

You asked me to trust you
And you expected a reply
I saw it in your eye.
But I hesitated.

They broke me
In ways you can’t imagine
As they left my heart and soul all barren.
I don’t know how to trust.

I want to trust you
But after end and end
You must comprehend
That I don’t know how.

You asked me to trust you
And you expected a reply
I saw it in your eye.
But I hesitated.

I've handed out
Too much of my trust.
People never put it in their hearts,
where it belongs.
They just take it, use it, spend it, and lose it.
Nobody ever wants to keep it.
So I'm done passing it out...
...I just hope there is still enough
for my own heart...

The puzzle that is the world
is missing a piece.
A piece, that when included,
would change everything.
But the piece that is sitting
on the sidelines, watching,
waiting.
It doesn’t fit.
It looks around and sees
the loneliness that comes
from being itself.
A bit too much of this,
too little of that.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.
Even though it is the last piece
and it should fit,
it wasn’t made to fit in.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.
The divine puzzle is where
it calls home.
But it can’t get home.
Home is a place where
it is not allowed.
Not yet.
The piece has to leave it’s mark
on the lost puzzle.  
It’s a lonely road
with an entire generation going one way
and a singular piece going the other.
Striving to get home.
Striving to just be heard
in a world full of unneeded noise.
The piece sees it’s destiny.
It has a passionate, relentless dream inside
it’s entire being.
It knows what it’s called for
and what it longs to do.
But the restrictions of it’s life
and the road that it is on
says 
“Not yet”.
“Not now”.
“Just wait”.
“My timing
is right”.
The piece expects the
world to shift under
it’s footsteps.
But the power of the divine,
it doesn’t show up.
Not in the way
the piece expected.
A lonely road this is.
With an entire generation going one way
and a singular piece going the other.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.

I have to c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶  ̶o̶u̶t̶
The names of her disciples.
Like a corroded mob boss
Hung on pills and grass.
Wasted manhood
A shotgun +

I passed the time to care -

The darkness sets
In yellow circles and square stones
I'll let go of them tomorrow.
But, that's what I always say,
Dear God, please!!

The plastic-faced-man
Will shut out the only light.
It's been a real pleasure -

Thank you reader,
For not reading this too
Far into and out of space
and to note the time it's
Twelve o' clock
You're on the midnight express,
Just you outside and in the stars.
"Is the devil here?"
I guess that'll make three,
So just put me in

As well. As the story goes,
I'm getting old and restless
Impatient and tired of this
World around me; the corner folds me
Back around the world and
I'm stuck on a knuckle.
What funky luck, ******!

Lay me down and ask,
"What's going on stranger?**"