MEAD

Well consider them poems for this format, here's some recent songs/ poems of mine.

Low

Can things get any lower than when the song bird can’t sing?
You can’t hear all his sad songs and the comfort they bring

Because sometimes you can’t cry on your own
And you look for emotion that the song bird might loan

So under a moon in the night
I wait for his song to alight

That part of me that sits by your side
That waits and waits and never dies

When the songbird can’t sing
All his sad songs
And the comfort they bring me
When I’m missing you

Cadmus

In labors of lost epic heroes gone before
I find my eyes fixated on my native shore
My mind on times that makes them water
My heart pinned safe to beauty’s daughter

I am without
My Harmony

Did I Tell You?

I got a lover like no other
Gonna bring some flowers to her mother

Gonna tell her she’s everything
And everything’s right in my head
Gonna tell her she’s the only thing
Gonna love her when I’m dead

In June

June, oh it’s June!
It smells like you
The flowers found around your hair
Golden dew drops dappled there
On you, oh it’s you!
Your sweet perfume
Hangs another year around my heart
It gives a boy a brand new start
Oh!
I wish it were June

Hospital K

My cold morning found bathed in last night
That disappeared, distracted by sheets and hospital light

Yesterday's air remains, stings, and sobers the soul
The muted morning seen through suffering swallows me whole

Snapping me up in such a violence
Smashing my head that held no silence

Down in it's organs, writhing and swelling
I spent that time with no time telling

Deeper into the body that now is bursting
Crying for the last light that it is thirsting

I waded in and out of anxious thought
Awaiting the response that it has brought

Does it bring pain, destruction, loss and death?
“It brings nothing, you’re healthy” said in one breath

Maybe sleep will renew yesterday's air
Looking through my pockets to pay the cab's fare

Waiting on the corner for it to take me to home
Where I might deflate and not feel so alone

But I started this day and must follow it through
There are things to be done; there's really only you

Guilt

It that been both bore of monster
Misdeed, maligned
Yet nurtured by Compassion
And Wisdom combined

By my head
Toward blacker tends
A dirge of thoughts
On silent sends

Deafly past my ears
Unto an untrained tongue
And after this procession
Your heat I have wrung

The Ground

Within her may lay:

Precious gem
To be unfold
Or countenance of dead men
On tombstone told

And that which make thee gentlemen
Through labor can be won
And that which make thee of God's kin
Set once labor has been done

__________________
Here are some phrases I'd like to be able to say, in all honesty, before I die.
"That's it, send out the ninjas!"
"So then I had to kill my way to the second floor."