Flowery Fantasy

Angels Footfalls

The tap, tap, tap, of dancing feet, 
Awake me from my slumber.
When the angels celebrate, 
Their dance, it sounds like thunder.

My weighted heart, so full of love,
It aches with childish wonder.

To dance with angels in the sky,
The hoped filled dream of childhood eye,
To feel as though I could just die,
And spend my whole life in that slumber. 

On the land your father died
O’er his grave your mother cried
From ultimate end we cannot hide
So why even try

Build a life

With work and play
Roll in the hay
Sit tight in strife
For short the night and long the day

Build a family well

With offspring many and healthy too
Look like me and act like you
What will you do
As the spider’s web of life’s age closes on you ever more tightly

And when the day of life comes to close
Fear not the short night
The wake of the sun will ease your fright
And shine down on you and yours once more

Build A Home

Sounds of Insanity

I’ve found myself hear before,
The same small whispers of insanity,
They come in the night, behind my eyes,
With prospects against humanity,
They border on hilarity,
With crystal bouts of clarity.

Insanity, alas, is often funny,
An inexplicable fashion sight,
What fashion choice, society is blind,
Except the ones visited at night,
We see the colors between the lines,
Of the matrix clasping us in tight

The necessity of creation on a young girls mind
Without which she will surely go mad – but don’t call her Shirley

What a mess – lost my trust in my instincts
My instincts now yield mass extinct
What to trust in
Full open prospects
The bliss of uncertainty is a burden on me

Creation is Necessary

Dancing With Monsters

The trees they dance, 
The winds they cry, 
While monsters hide from naked eye.

Oh joy, we dance, 
We drink, we cry,
On heart relieved in gaping sigh.

Hideaway moon,
Hideaway light,
Let us dance, 
Let us cry, 
With monsters of the night. 

Exit this way,
One and all.

The first to jump, 
The first to fall.

No parachute,
Or guiding arms,

To ease you to the ground.

Please do not scream, 
Please do not shout,

No one will hear your sound. 

But step right up, 
This way to die.

Unless of course,
You know to fly. 

Fall or Fly

Coffee Black

Collecting Xi.
Creating Jing.
Black and cold,
or hot with cream.

When I wake
from slumber’s grasp,
reach to my right,
for mug or glass.
Pull the sleep from dreary eyes,
with sweet aroma,
But Java lies
Yawning hard at just past two,
Someone’s made me quite the fool.
My weighted lids, they ache for bed,
My desk, it welcomes my heavy head.
I’ll get them back, 
For what’s been done.
Slash their tires,
Slay their first born son.
Someone’s in for a wicked backlash,
That’s the last time they’ll ever give me
Decaf.