Is It Noon 'Fore I Am to Tune?

Is It Noon 'Fore I Am to Tune?                   November 30, 2013

Shall I see thee smile, my lady,

'Fore the sun shineth bright?
As the light of my life, my lady,

Your love begets me comfort.

And yet, what do I know 'tis real

Other than that which I doth feel

Whenever I am bereft of thou touch,
And my life, as I knew to be such?

Is it noon 'fore I am to tune

Into the channel to which you croon

To me of your love, as I do unto you?

That radio sings 'pon the heron's call,

And 'tis you! And yet I can only bawl,

For when you're gone from my sight,

O' Lord! How I am filled with fright!

Is it noon 'fore I am to tune

Into the sight of thou sweet eyes
As the darkness leaves thy lids o' mine?

How shall I cope sans your caress
If all I am to know then is duress?

My love! I ne'er again wish to leave you!

I would rather lie amid the winter foliage

Dead amid my commiserate mileage!

The Death of Christmas

The Death of Christmas                   November 29, 2013

 So many mindless vagabonds, and I never knew
How they could have survived without a clue
As to The Truth of His Immaculate Conception past,
But for those amid the rat race, the cheap prices await.
And tho' the days go on, shall they seek His Call?
Will the mindless vagabonds stop fighting with all?
Shall they consume The Truth Faith doth provide?
Is Mankind destined for its final midnight ride?

Do the people know Santa Claus is but a fantasy,
Or do they seek to drive their money-grabbing fancy?
Do the people stop to pray for the less in fortunes,
Or do they simply cry amid not finding le jouet de la journée?
When the people are forced to work on the Holy Day,
Shall those who shop stop to pay heed other than to mock?
Will those who seek His Truth ever remove the blinders
Or will they force to Hell the name "Jesus" in kind?

When last do you recall when Christmas was alive?
I fail to recall; it happened one Fourth of July.

Of Pilgrims' Pride

Of Pilgrims' Pride                   November 27, 2013

My cornucopia runneth o'er

As the time for our feast approaches;
Shall ye feel obliged to pray for all,
For those at dearth to be bless'd?
And shall ye hearken 'pon the journey

'Cross the Atlantic's angry waves?

For those who died, we shall all recall

Their spirits 'pon this, our breaking bread.

Shall our pride begat love or to deceive?
Shall ye ever fail to comprehend or see?

I hope to see a slew of warm'd hearts

Always to love their fellow man!

Shall we open our eyes to see
The fruits o' our sailing the sea?

As English folk, to each of our blokes,
The pride o' our pilgrimage's delights!

Just That Same Old Song You Used to Sing

Just That Same Old Song You Used to Sing      November 24, 2013

Look at you, Baby Blue! 

And my! How do you do?

I've come just to hear you croon!

When I stand and look around,
All I hear is the sweetest sound,

And that sight I sought was you
Singing a song to me so true!

You're just a canary

Singing as I always carry
Your photo singing with me
Amid this smoky sea!

Shall I play my guitar

In accompanying you, my star?
For between you and me,
Our love is His decree!

Amid these sultan swingers
With each, their humdingers,

I know I've won the lottery!

No need to say I'm sorry,
I love you amid this rude soiree,

Let us sing among just us
How our life began 'pon a bus!

It's just that same old song
You used to sing, Blue,

And tho' it's never long,
I find our subject infinitely true.

Shall we repeat our refrain?
For I must drive into her lane,

She'll ignite the flame of the fire

 Within my heart's desire!

Death Becomes the Stars and the Stripes

Death Becomes the Stars and the Stripes               November 22, 2013

I said to that jerk, the corrupt Uncle Sam: 

"Don't tread 'pon me, you cursed man!"
But he does not seem with me to agree,
And to care about my desperate plea.
If I don't vote for him along his path
As my conscience deems; He is my guide,
I shall feel the heat amid his wrath
Upon the heel when he shall decide.

And tho' my faith is still in Him true,
Uncle Sam keeps on stabbing me through,
And once I am forced to surrender,
My life shall forever live amid the hinder
My love and zeal for Lady Liberty, for she
Is America: my country 'tis of thee,
And I shall hide as an ostrich within my pillow
As thy soul weeps amid the willow.

As death becomes the Stars and the Stripes,
I shall abscond to Don Quixote's Neverland,
Tho' Uncle Sam may through the pipes
Sink me beneath all thee in quicksand,
And into Hell's grasps, and I, crisp, singed,
As Lucifer's flames torch our patriots blacked,
And our liberties, dead, as they binged,
And we? To the grave as we are sacked!

Too Young to Die

Too Young to Die                November 18, 2013

As she drove along the race track

Down the Route 666 freeway,

She threw caution into the wind,

And never cared to live each day:
Kissing the ground for another moment,
For tho' she may have been wild,
T'was really just a goodbye to the world
Once the road reached Paradise.

Life had dialed her 'pon the phone,
Said t'was time for a final rest,
Tho' she protested o' so much,
Death touched her; she left the flesh.
And the lady answered, intrepidly,
Never shall she be outdone:
She opened the gateway to Paradise,
The end to rain, and an eternal sun.

And 'pon the moment of her wake,
So many beloved wept and said
She was too old to run wild
Yet far too young to die:
Her soul was too large
For the life of our realm.
And yet measures are but human,
For our measures are all in vane:
And the girl tore loose 'pon this track
With wings letting her fly away.

A free spirit she be at her sunrise
Till t'was time for her to slip
Unto an eternal posterity,
The girl shall forever live amid
Contemporaries so timeless,
No time measured linearly.
Always so trendy, she was free;
Let her example be realized:
Let freedom ring, He shall say!
Let Eternity be a timeless day!

When the Thrill is Gone

When the Thrill is Gone                  November 16, 2013

The music died 'pon us abruptly
As we danced away the night so slowly;

I only wished we'd kept the moment alive.

Mary Jane was so lovely, 

As she was tasting her bowl of rue,

But the time had passed, my Lord,

Can't you spare us our life?
Our work has yet been done.

Love was so lonely for us
If only that were true, but I shan't fuss,

But, o' yes! It was our lone gift He betrothed!

Our groveling words 'pon the nightly embers

The candlewick burned till t'was a wake,

Out 'pon the line, and I am resigned to die.

When the thrill is gone, my dear,
I shall sing our requiem, kiss thee good night,

Until we meet again at the pass in the sky!

Where will we fly? Are we really to die?

Another summer drifts away by-and-by!

We are just shooting stars 'pon a whiskey bar!

We anointed the world enough.

We now lie down 'pon the life raft,

Sailing away 'cross the cloudy skies.

A gondola we bear; our love only to dare -

Shall we break 'cross the astral plain,

A cloudy Venetian tour of His lanes?

When the thrill is gone, my dear,

I hope to see you forever and again.

The moonlit nights, only bearable when

You held my right hand, the embrace tight!

Till we meet again, it'll be by-and-by,

For I shall be out in Infinity's sky.

Love shall never let us die;

For we are an infinite force, our love,

 A troika drawn by The Trinity's Word!

Getting Close to My Home

Getting Close to My Home                       November 16, 2013

Shall it be another day to forget
Or worse, to remember, and to fret?

Shall I be burdened with your sorrows
By day, as well as mine?

An ice cream sundae would do me well
If only I could dream of a day
Where the vanities doth fly away.

And look at you, Sue,
O' my! And how do you do?
I shall one day be avenged!
A life 'pon the tapestry,
A Hastings so dastardly,
And my sanctity of self-rule

Has been violated till dead!

Let those Franks come rushing in!

I swear they'll forever do it again!

Like a bowl of future escargots!

You should tear down my wall now,
For you shall ne'er breach me again!

I shall ne'er sing of your love again
Till the day I am to die,

And then onward to the Heavenly sky!

I hitched a ride 'pon my motorcycle
Bound for that state of mind
Where I know I shall forever unwind!

Ev'ry mile I will traverse
Shall carry me one closer to home;

I am getting close to my home.

I want to see my life smile,
I want to be happy awhile,

But I know amid my Dunkirk,
My troubles shall force me to abscond!

No more Fascists, Nazis, nor Commies
To persecute me unto night!

O'! Let my spirit bleed me till I'm dry!

My Will is Gone

My Will is Gone                 November 15, 2013

My will is gone; 'tis time to depart

For the Isle of Misfit Toys,
With a cherry as my top.

I saw 'pon the crystal ball

My time had come to die;

My days had passed over Jordan,

With the Moon in tow.

And if my life had known
A small trove of a treasure,
A candlewick, perhaps lit,
Would have guided me through.

Appearances deceived;

I was always led to believe,

And now my faith is squandered,

And a moon o'er head to harvest.

The garden of bulbs soon to grow

As I harvest them home

Till the moon lit them through

O' so long ago.

And I sing my swan song

For a life I will depart:

No more Christmases for me,
And I shall not cry
When I see the avarice
Of the people doth prevail;
Christ is dead, the Left smiles.

We reignite the Red Scare

Amid our rulers elected,
And soon that will bid us adieu;
Our liberties shall die with it.

We are a nation of victims,
Always promised the moon,
And then the stars and sun,

Till we are only shown a gulag.

Though we may not be amid
The Siberian sickle and hammer,

Ours is a death by a twilight

A majority foolishly elected.

My life, tho', shall be dead

For my own sins 'pon me wrought,

And I shall taste the blood

My hand wipes from my brow.

The unicorn in Nam shall be thy sign:
The Berlin Wall was only temporary;

But the Red Scare for most, sublime!

The state closed Christ's last seminary.

Angel of Mercy

Angel of Mercy                      November 15, 2013

I wish for a sleep so deep, I shall never know
The likes of a day where I go home:
The body, the mind, those vagabond prisoners,
And the weapon of choice, the maternal pistol.

I seek His grace 'pon the pastor's pulpit,
But I am only told, "She holds your soul,
Your mind, your body, and everything which goes:
You live for her life, the dependency upon her."

And the life I live, I cry inside,
Though the tears never cascade, and I only tremor.
My life is a mirage the American Dream doth cast:
My genetics pervade, and I shall die
A mad hatter in my own skin.

What if an angel of mercy should arrive?
Shall I be liberated from another day?
Shall God release my final breath 'pon night?
Will I finally sleep away to Eternity,

Never to feel again a day's plight?
I fail constantly, everything which I embark,

And the life I lead is never my own:
Whether it be hers or my curse

The genetics wrought 'pon me,

And if I were to die 'pon the night,

At least I would lie forever free!

I have never known before misery as now.
A failure at port as everywhere else I know how.

I live to succeed, but what do I achieve?
I succeed at my abject failures: 

My mother's show of love via deathly creed.