Many survive on the bones
and raw flesh of corpses,
to boast and bask in the cauldrons
Where they in reality smolder…
The guffaw, the gumption they boast,
they feel the world is
about them to toast

A sullen face falls
and
when the world around does awake,
Like foxes into the forest they escape,
tails wagging below the horizon
they are actually dead
ere the new morn sunrise is arisen

He sits alone on his park bench
on this frigid winter morn.
For hours he's not moved one inch.
His heavy coat is old and torn.

With gaze unflinching toward the west
where the sun set this past eve.
No breath stirs within his chest.
A pigeon lights on dirty sleeve

The eyes of blue, yesterday clear,
now dimmed by a skim of frost.
To any who once held him dear
the chance to reconcile is lost.

Tracing the forest domicile
away from a shadowy civilization.
A dark toiling earth,
bereft nobility and worth,
amend self gratification.

Searing plains of adversity,
walls, ignorant, situate torn minds, once blissful.
Promise to appease,
a heavy avalanche of knees.
Thoughts in action turn choice deedful.

Yet still recede I to a cavernous mind,
meandering tunnels through questions too deep,
for beneath the surface, emptiness will seep.
Light shatters darkened forms to keep thee entwined.

Get the morning up!

Our night'been too long.
For daylight, now I do long.
Out, for dignity do all throng.
Hand in hand sing the salvation song.

Get the morning up!

Sprung, bounteous mobs I can hear.
Forget the flowers of yesteryear.
The new Spring, they'll never sear.
Tendered gore,them all will rear.

Get the morning up!

Groveling, servility never been inhere.
Your roaring silence, don't veneer!
Away chase the mighty jageer.
To lustering Springs, let's all adhere!