star scan body dust follow grow stroke stony moonshine goddess song slip
Sitting under the moonshine the goddess strokes the lean body of her cat Her gaze following a shooting star while a soft song grows out of her soft lips She sings of the forest and all of its men who are stony and stoic and cold Dust slips through the cracks in the canopy and she scans the sky for a sign.
With all intent and purposes I crack the curtains quick I try to get a glimpse of who might loom and play a trick. I grip the curtain with my hand, creeped out by a large stain I wonder if it’s part of the man’s now exploded brain. I hear a noise and whirl around, more of a clumsy spin To see through light left by the moon and then I leaned right in. I saw my Lord in my garden of coloredtulip blooms He is my favorite man of law, mixed in like smokey fumes I backed right up and curled my fingers ’round the slack fabric And tried to think of why I’m here, I’d figure something quick My mind erased the memories of seeing him that day But every night when I lay down, to him I like to pray I pray that he comes back around to see me at my best And go to sleep with joyous vibes inclined to take a rest.
‘As ancestors go, mine are pretty unique From the depths of the oceans to tall mountain peaks The grief from their passing is replaced with a smile The sadness is lifted, depths of loss reconcile Pretty bright blooms rise right out of the ice Rain melts the snow, it is really quite nice Mud seems to grovel in crevices bare While salt from the ocean’s like crystals of air The bruises of sorrow on the skin of the soul Replace what the heart wants and what it still knows From the edge of a field to the top of a peak No words heard murmuring, no sounds here to seek Keep moving on ’til your cup runneth dry And remember the happiness each time you cry.
Narcotic skies depict the culture of the world Where a fondness for hatred encapsulate thought An obtuse idea indicative of our leaders Who think of nothing more than sinking lower than ought
I don’t want to be saved in a place like a cupboard Closed and dark opened only once for a simple cup The design of our world should be clean and open Allowing us to live in peace, while the evil shut up
We are all different or that’s what they all say like the tiles lining the wall of a bathroom stall Scrubbed clean only when someone wants to do it showing the shine that is hiding under it all.
Someday there will be life without hate or sadness Brought on by others who have no care for the lame Grief is free, given when we have loved ones who depart In the end, don’t we know we all are the same
During the homecoming they were happy to see That the bush and the shrub weren’t hurt by the bee There was no regret since no time went to waste finding the ytterbite was for what they all raced They wasted no time in this journey of life like presented with teeth of a tenacious steak knife For they didn’t know they were next on the list A symptomatic response like a crack in the schist they went rocking along, such an agile climb They picked from a shrub near a dirty clothesline You could read the response on the older one’s face That satire here was the ribbons and lace Tied to the tree to keep all pests away wanting nothing to bother them during their stay
I’m on the straight and narrow as I follow down this path Heading to the vet right now to give my dog a bath This always is a challenge since my doggie growls lots But if I fail to do this chore his skin will get hot spots I wish the place was vacant like at night when no ones there I breathe a sigh of relief and try to fix my hair The fact I try concealing is slapstick to some folks But building up a facade is like mountains with no slopes I vicariously will cover regrets with a mock cape Even though my ideas do not have a certain shape I ask to use the toilet to erase my sweaty pits Happy that they use a vent, while doggie waits and sits This all sounds like a comedy with a genius who is stuck I wish my body held its heat I really have no luck But without obstructing further we head to the front door Until I hear the barking, doggie’s sniffing at the floor There is a tiny item hiding firmly by the wall Is that a mouse or hamster? I think it is a vole I tell doggie to leave it, they deserve the chance to live After this I head back home, doggie’s bath I did not give.
How many numbers can one gambler count When wearing a crown, I’d say any amount But he is a fool who’ll request a memento And cross all his friends, making them foes He’ll be unrelenting and seek a new hat But rumors will stir, he’s too exotic for that There’s no chance that his soul is headed up north Heavenwardness, Godly haven, so forth ‘Cause he’s mean as a bull with secrets to hide with his bony, white hand, he’ll push you aside. He’ll float past the crowd on his way to the top Then have a repast before he really will drop To the bottom of hell or wherever it is That bad people go, and it ain’t just show biz! He’ll stay there and rot like bad people do And no one will cry or ever be blue.
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