Woe is me oh
I am a torn soul
torn Torn
between two worlds’

One black
one gray
woe is me
a candle
A candle
in a storm
never enough light
to see the ground
upon which
are pieces of me.

Shattered, I am shattered
and I can not embrace
life or anything new
for my hands are, are torn,
torn and filled with
the jagged pieces of me.

Adrift, I am adrift
through life
an empty vessel
that longs only to be
filled with melancholy.

Mr. Butle was an older guy.
He'd hardly ever smile,
head always bowed and stature slumped,
most of his words were full of bile,

Yet everyone thought well of him,
he had that valued "Midas touch"
so most overlooked his grumpy ways,
his grumbles, frowns and such.

His wife always dressed to the hilt.
For an older lady she looked good
yet her smile seemed somehow cold
as she walked about the neighborhood.

Dr Chaz I am near you

From the legends of Kali

I heard the churning of the Ocean
There the milk frothed and changed state
A poison I have brewed for my enemies
Madhva can relate this story true to you

It with me, are now locked in legend
Or so it is told to all men to deceive
Halahala will be mine to give too many
Even Vaya tried to make it weak

His winds could not reduce Halahala
A gift of the milky Oceans fury
Shiva he turned blue with just a sip
In a gold pot, held in the arms of Vaya.

Somewhere in the trees,
a hooting owl greets the night
restless bats take flight

Spying on the moon,
a young crow is mesmerized
by her great beauty

Where fireflies gather,
tiny merry lights linger,
teasing the shadows

While the crickets sing
celebrating the dark hour
with their own rhythm

The night comes alive
with the sound of hunting beasts
fighting or survival....