No paradigm of peace will ever dwell
Upon the land of evil and the outcasts
Who are not evil, but were born in hell
And this alienates them from the lucky ones
Who despise those unfortunates, believing
They’ve drawn the short straw they deserved for sins
Of their forefathers, which seems merely decieving
To the unfortunates, for they’re not welcomed in
The lands of lucky, and those habitants of hell
Don’t understand the laws of kinship from the Bible
And this exacerbates their fates so well
That makes them feel a bit upset about arrival
And so predictably they hate the lucky ones
And so the lucky hate those people in return
The only option left is to load up the guns
Expanding hell, for reason possibly unknown
The explanations become vaguer, there is no
Plain truth to tell, and every fool looks pensive
Although when killing is the only way to go
Both sides meet hell for being too defensive.
Barefooted, I keep sliding
Shuffling down the Long Grass Street
To the fountain of Poseidon
Where some ageless people meet
Think it’s time to see my friend
And a dog of hers as well
Time to talk about the end
If there’s something new to tell
Windows open, doors ajar
Most of habitants look out
Some drink whiskey from a jar
Some are smoking, talking loud
Round the corner music’s playing
That I’m quite familiar with
Big and small boats keep on sailing
With a little help of breeze
I would like to join the chorus
But I look for better treat
Humming Rex Tyrannosaurus
Walking down the Long Grass street
I’m a knee-deep in the grass
By the fountain I see you
Smiling through the jets of glass
In your shirt of navy blue.
Dear Lord:
Thank you for one more day of live
Bless my family and friends
Thanks for having a home
Thank you for having a job
Bless all the habitants of Earth
That peace reigns in all nations
Through out the entire world
Faith will give the necessary strength
Give me the wisdom and knowledge
To make the best decisions that
Will decide my future life
Thank you Lord for everything
Amen
No peace here for these slumbering souls.
Mourners songs - a cacophonous keen.
These rocks are weeping here on hallowed beds,
the habitants are restless this eve.
Visual 3
Tenielle
Miss Spring arrived quite early today...
She brought with her some rain..Hooray...
Her job description is to assure...
That the garden will endure...
All the habitants needed...
And even the seeded....
Her first assignment of her duties..
Will be to match up all the cuties..
Like Azaleas , Iris, Pansies and more...
a Rose with a Rose...and even more...
A home for everything, even Anthills...
Right next to the bright yellow Daffodils...
However even the flowers have rebels who seek,
Pleasures that are.. that of the weak...
And sometimes it is beyond Miss Springs grasp..
That “ new” faces show up...with no names..Alas !
You hear them in whispers..when the wind blows threw the grass...
They are the “ love childs” produced by the rebels you see...
they are called “ Wildflowers “ and picked by both you and me...
But, it’s not here where the story ends...
Cause even Miss Spring has a “ seedy “ side my friends...
And as the months pass...she too changes..
Sometimes even exchanges..
And sells herself out..what a bummer..
She gets “ hotter “ and changes her name...to Summer
Meadows swaying with fresh plant life
Cliffs stand chalky surround the valley
Deep within it breaths heaven
Habitants there within caves
Ladies of hair scarfs and long dresses
Men with strong structure and charisma
Whispering winds of imagination leaves
Farmiliarising myself to the re-occurring dream
Imagine,
picture, if you will,
a glass bowl, clear crystal --
a bubble.
Create, therein,
an atmosphere,
diaphanous, of water.
Pebble its bottom
with small shards:
amber, flint, obsidian
and cloudy quartz.
Introduce a coral branch
and set a sprig, dark green,
of kelpy moss.
Disperse -- suspend --
a fishy population.
Put in motion this tableau:
habitants in bowl-bounded ocean --
flashing mauve, bright blues, pink, red,
emerald and silver hues. And yellow.
Regard. Then stow immobile bones
bleached shiny white
below.
I rot alone in my prison house
my shakes and splits are now voluntary
the voices soothe me and rock me
I alone am privy to my lock box of sins
the drugs and questions posed are pointless
my mental habitants signed a life long lease
and they have this message for me to give
your wife shall look good on our mantle
and her screams will be like silk to our ears
and will strike a chorus in our heart
these subsequent day dreams soothe us
and the madness frolicks in us nightly
now doc be a good servant and bring our meds
oh yeah and doc our knife is dull
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