About A Happy Song

Little did I know of precious music,
When I want of belief in western consequence;
Long did I sing them with parodies inside,
Failing reason and song that should live side by side.


A joker stands in the way,
The path where my lyrical justice must sway,
And he knows how the song will go,
But he laughs anyway despite what I say.


I have no sweet melody to capture radiance,
In this life if we don't sing we dance,
And we prance and we prance till death do us part,
To forget what we left half dream't and again to start.

Why Ask Questions?When You Know Everything.....

If I died in my sleep,

Where would I wake?

If the skies surround me,

Does it matter if I'm drowning?

If god loves me,

why hasn't he set me free?

If the truth is hollow,

What are these words in hunger we swallow?

If dreams were surreal,

How is life said to be real?

And if I bow my head to look above,

How faraway would be heaven's love?

If I am me and I am you,

Who will ask me who are you?

If I am here and you are there,

We all say the world is not fair.

An Open Window

The tragic artist without your sight,
Should you paint this window in sorrow and pain,
Breathing with life as you turn the world to your light,
Soon there will be nothing left in vain.


Be the face of prospect surely as your blindness tomorrow,
And let the world be kind in your divine favor,
The creations of madmen they watch you grow,
For you have become their unattained flavor.


Paint a window of childish remembrance,
Of lush innocence that may never return,
As it sits on the rock that tempted the ocean wild,
Hidden from the misty gauntlets that savage waters may churn.


Leave alone my walls of your tears dry,
Crumble not your face in its passing agony,
For his victory your beloved neighbor will buy,
Pass through this window quickly into silent secrecy.

Snakes and Ladders

 A die cast on the promised call of fortune,
While still life awaits its fateful turn,
Tomorrow,it said that all will be done,
When the wheel spins it has finally nowhere to run.


Cant this man rest his eyes to watch above,
And must others hinder his fading question of love;
For what passes through everything in time,
Guide him the ladder that moves in every line.


Wife of man take not this stand,
The stage of humility that compassion tries to understand,
Despair of heights where morality may reach,
And open the doors that all men preach.


The serpents have waited for our future to learn,
What becomes of merciless giants that did walk and burn,
Carve this world of relentless stone,
Where these ladders rigid fall among their bones.

A Man Of God

What dreams can aspire of this higher need,
Be struck down against ignorance that flows still,
And of what desire to evoke that sleeping lust,
For this murderer who waits not to kill.


From whence the sun fled west,
To voices that speak of questions of simplicity,
To fall among silence at the mother's breast,
Suckled of their vanity that only she could see.


They boasted of a life they could not revive,
Promises made with death as the hidden lay his face,
And he followed them along the road they would strive,
The masked shepherd to guide and slaughter upon grace.


How mortal must be the fair mind of god,
Chasing the world to turn by his hand,
Praising the day his faith will fall,
For lost and forever be the innocence of man.

The Birth

Remember when it was still yesterday,
So young and yet pale as the tender moon that night;
I still remember how began that day,
But how should it end so soon?

His children gather behind their father,
Listening with open ears to endless stories,
While his voice speaks as a night should stir,
His fear is all but what the world must believe.

I can hear footsteps walking lost without their heels,
Climbing softly to a sky though the ladder will not go down;
Awaiting the faint horizon on comforting knees,
Long have we waited for a king to crown.

As a child be born to its tear stained mother,
The blood of its birth spilt upon the eyes that gaze,
From the ocean will he wash his body,
And burn the darkness of man for all his days.

The Throne Upon The Hill

Forgotten winters lay still as the silence of nothing,
The emptiness no ocean would fill beyond greatness,
As the times of unsung beauty has come to sing,
Upon this hill shall the world be at rest.

Like a thrill that flutters its wings to an anxious heart,
The bellowing waves that slap the ground with no tender touch,
While neither stone nor sand will lead the steep road,
The path so crudely hewn is all that remains of my faith.

As a shattered rainbow crawls through the winding thicket,
Moving voices that speak softly in my soul,
If never a word were whispered to the deaf sky,
This high wind untamed should be so bold.

Forgive this illusion that should play upon my spine,
As mine eyes must deceive of the throne I longed to see still;
Awake awake cried heaven for dreams become the pleasure of time,
And I say this to the world,may a dream be lost but may we meet upon this hill.