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Rolling Death | Still | To a Rook in Winter
To Myself | Trickle of the Flood

Rolling Death

Blood splattered rain-like
          'cross the windshield of Death

Death, beads, dripping
          down the face of unconsciousness

Unconscious thoughts turning
          sour in the night

Night turn the page
          to a day with little hope

Hope snuffed out
          against the windshield of Death

Death with no remorse
          cursed lives, dreams, and days

Days that stream along
          unwaivered, at a loss,
                    for ever on

Still

Totally blindsided under a blood red sky.
Slapped in the face and set aside to cry.
Wait for an answer with the tears I make.
Becoming fit for my very own wake.
Can hardly wait to see you there.
Hope my face still expresses care.
Please take the time to look your best.
Show off the beauty I once caressed.
Sometimes its quicker to be alone.
On a long hard journey to a new home.

To A Rook in Winter

O! What beauty in sounds they weave
The same beauty in all my mind perceives
Seldom missing from the dreams
of wanderers on this Earth green
I hear the trickle of the brook
and there sings out a steadfast rook
Past the meadow in the poplar tree
It's voice rising up to speak to me
From leaf barren tree to another it flies
In search of food before it dies
Not a morsel for to live
And not a morsel I have to give
For I am just a wayward soul matured
Nothing but grieving to give the bird
as it lie there dying
So are the ways of Mother Earth trying
to balance the damage that goes there
O! The sounds of Nature

To Myself

I can't help but feel misused
Feel so mistook, so misunderstood
So misplaced, mentally abused
But never breaking, never would

More blood and sweat, no tears
Pride with pain, no fears
So it goes through the years
Too many broken promises
to myself

I can't help but be amused
Bright and bored, oh too bored
Happy and sad, and so confused
But never stopping, just ignored

More blood and sweat, no tears
Pride with pain, no fears
So it goes through the years
Too many ideas kept
to myself

I just can't help being confused
The compass turns, roads go on
Feel like dynamite, shortly fused
Making a bang, before I'm gone
I still can't help but be amused
Keep my feet to the compass path
Be so misplaced, and so abused
Take the bumps, endure the wrath
Too many broken promises kept
to myself

Trickle of the Flood

Play in the water.

Walk right up and join the game.
Play with the water to entertain.
The water that drives some insane.
Bow your head and keep playing in the water.

Play in the water; Play in the water

As you play along comes a fish.
Lets you do with it what you wish.
So you fillet it and serve it on a dish.
Then lower your head and play in the water.

Playing in the water; Playing in the water

Storms are brewing; The rains come now.
The dam soon breaks and floods come down.
They trickle to you and wash sweat from your brow.
You ready your hands to play in the water.

Play in the water; Playing in the water; Play the water

The saline water you love is gone
not to mention the floor it was puddled on.
From these drops a new man is grown.
You steady yourself to play in the water.