To me or not to me
That stage 'pon which we are all actors Tis too but a play within a play The roles so profuse, the parts played with fervour The actors recluse, the man hid forever Life Performers may well come and go, But parts - these age don't know. Long may we try to understand What, pray, lies within the man? We are but windows to ourselves Seldom clear, the frost removed The reveals but only misty tombs. Living Dank cellars of the mind are rife We know ourselves not of this life. Death, oh thou sweet comfort of the night wait indeed beyond the door of light Exit thro' the latter door - applause rings out for thee no more. Death Entrance is but to be made By the star of center stage. What is real, yea what is true? Do we host, or are we hosted? The outermost - true - tis not us yet that within is but a ghost. Truth? The nonce is but a fleeting slot of what may be or what may not. |
Our love
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How dost thou love me Whence hast thy love departed? Tis no longer before mine eyes That which gave me life worth living Promises unto eternity Gavest thou me Didst thy heart lie to thee? or twas it just to me? I loved thee as with fire twas all consuming; beyond control Yet woudst I ensure no injury to thy heart, mind, body or soul |
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The war
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The time draws nigh, when those who are without are too made captive to the dregs of society. Their armies upon us, intent on defeat Their war - conversion, ideals, beliefs. What lies ahead - a highway of sorts is mapped out for us, though realms of the dead. "Conformity sucks" they chant out in unison Their eyes are too dark to see through the flood. Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me The smoke of persecution looms over the meek permeating our robes as the way we seek. I'll stand my ground, yet not making a stand - Play your cards well - never show them your hand. Dark is the night and darker still the way It leads right through the gate, the future waits obscure Walking on in final hope, our destiny is one unsure May we find - what - know we not, some small peace of truth of heart. |
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For Ryan
You and yours
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My love for you is boundless. The way I feel when I'm with you Cannot fall into shape as words. Your presence lights my eyes. Your voice is a stream in the forest And your touch - Your touch - the rhythm of my heart. |
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Nostalgia
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As the full moon rises enshrouded in a vale of pearl The radio plays - the piano-man sings But it's all been said before The music soon changes its rhythm But the message of lives and loves lost remains I'm one of a few million - a statistic in Life's hit-and-run. There's comfort in numbers - that's what they say but a broken heart is one alone surrounded by fragments of its person. -So sing me a song, you're the piano-man; and I'm a lover spurned. |
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