We Are The WorksPastels suspended in time [Trapped on the window sill]We Are The Works
Castaways, waiting to be cast away Oils, charcoals, pencils alike waiting for purpose [I’m not here on purpose] Canvas on the horizon, greatness just beyond Waiting for application [Wishing brilliance]
Sparrows' MetronomeTime beat dash heatSparrows' Metronome
Never thought it would come to this Musician’s count
Musician’s death chant Music can’t save you now Hold it, hold it, cherish [You’ll never need it again] Air sounds Sounds of birds in the miles behind the ones in front
[They’re here! Hear!] The sparrows bring death on their wings Pluck at life, quick, there isn’t much left [Turning blue, don’t be so blue] Carried by sparrows, it’s all gone now [One] [Last] [Breath]
An Ode to LuisKindly mentions and silken praise come from secrecy The Master reveals himself as not; The crusader The savior The simple blessed boy, is he At times of woe he speaks of truth thought false [But truthfully, it is true . . .] A false deity, he is [quite not!] Thank the heavens for such a boy His velvet pen in gentle hand he weaves [Together] You and IAn Ode to Luis
A poet’s soul is not his pen, but the paper it touches [We are paper . . .]
High ClassLittle miss skeleton key sipping that spiked cider [Spindly as a spider] Such a lush, forgotten by lust [No one wants to break her] Grasping that Grey Goose neck Kissing onto glass lips Lined with crystal lace [Intoxicating grace] That dead little face Enjoy your last mealHigh Class
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