When you finally realize
your life is a death sentence
in every breath
your eyes and mind
Those cold hands sheltered in his lap...
A simple life chosen to live, perhaps?
Could no bed be offered though?
Not even a chair?
My friends and my family scattered across
the land of America; land of the Lost
there's a shortage of love - a shortage of water
a shortage of food - the temperatures hotter
A poem comes abruptly – A poem
Sneaks into the room and hides behind the chair
Or the couch, or the curtain
And then pounces through the air
Though we both lay here together
we're a hundred worlds apart
different memories; different demons
different Spirits; different Hearts
With no inspiration or passion in heart
O, where is a person ever to start
With hardly a friend in this mysterious land
Is there hope for growth
Go to work, get paid then spend it fast
You need more stuff cuz things don't last
forever. - Hurry! Run to the store!
Corporate slaves and Wal-mart whores
Song bird, intrigue me
flow forth your wondrous tune
your music pours from you
When Mind is baked,
When it rains,
the puddles Plinkle