Rebel My Daylight

Enter in to sky to give meaning that’s seeming fastly so fleeting. Start at first it may be sleeping until two three; a song repeating. Daily dance hit the fast life fire’s in you my friend and you I desire. Part from beam of light your rod of sun beckons me as your God. Until…

Cold Is A Phantom

Weeping profuse do tender hearts when tender lives from life do part. Fragile it defines what life is truly; day it does pass, we must live fully. A snap of a finger and the day gone becomes distant; we move on along. Angels immortal tender they there where heaven it collides in the air. Pure…

From Below

Rose petals and fancy confetti for me a fool. I do lament love of life flowing in earthen pools. At death’s bed platitudes will drip from tounges. Leave warm sentiment reserved for the young. I’m not made of brick nor am I of some mortar. I am rife with humanity bury me in earth’s order….

Blaming The Reaper

They say look at him now how he tries to work words. Tell him he has no meter and his words, how absurd. He speaks as if he knows how a true poet feels bleed from the heart rhythm and now from lines come speed. I hear them they are right but I know not…

To The Beyond In Song

When dead am I one cold day, underground I’ll finally behave. Into a box then earth it caves around me and my stiffened face. Though my body rots slowly gone, they’ll be some memories or songs that pass from a preacher’s charm that find ears where they belong. As color from the sky it disappears….


The memory of you will be a part of me and only me until I am placed in my coffin. For even if I find myself in hell in the next life, your eyes my mind will think of to withstand the flames.

Death Makes Us Kin

I’m far from being damn special. Yet the reaper finds I’m acceptable. Let coldness for it be reciprocal, it brings us all to be connectable. Berate fellow souls we should not for we can see our common spot. In large fields of tombstone lots we’ll be what the earth has forgot. The grave’s our common…

Contemplation At Eden’s End

This tiny earth you should know where you are is bit by the snow. The land is so rife, stiffled not nice. There’s bitter ice cutting as if a knife. So sayeth God our hearts are odd. We take breaths often to breathe smog. Since original sin, what a way to begin, a starting clock…

The Sound Of Time

Father Time reaches with his tightfist grip. Grabbing masses whole singing along his trip. His voice revealed are simple sounds. Birds singing softly flying amongst clouds. The circle, the cycle around and around we go. Some are luckily released, from vices as their thrones. I try and I’ll call loud out into the vast crowd….