A thing of death

A thing of death is a sorrow forever:

It harbors beautiful pain it will never

Fade from tomorrow; yesterday, today

A blanket, pillow, shadow of ash grey

Stolen breath, and stolen warmth, and stolen years



Take away the smiles and replace with tears

Those gorgeous tears that run down crimson cheeks

Decay’s smell runs laps around the lips for weeks

Tongue tastes solemness of the putrid disease

Disease and quick death puts the young heart at ease

One last word of hello and goodbye

Many more lonely nights and weeps to dry

Pale moon under collective webs of dust

Scars and memories under jellied crust

For the weak at heart; and such are pansies

Shaking in fields at the edge of Andes

Where the accepting graze on their pity slow

The cycle of death, its beauty will grow,

On past the edge, from curled tails of the sun,

This is the division of birth and done

We pretend for those fully alive;

That honey keeps pouring from an empty hive;

An endless fountain of mortal think,

Pouring from ignorance’s kitchen sink





A shy glance at denial under roses

Fingers trace crosses, as the evening closes

A prayer of safety for tomorrow must,

Be threaded through the fingers of God’s trust

His hands lay upon you like underbrush thorns

He’ll rid the soul of its masquerade thorns

And throw you below or raise you up high

But he’ll never promise a last goodbye

So count your blessings and count your seconds



Try to remember life’s little lessons

Can you count on your fingers, all of the deeds,

That upraised the roots which watered the seeds

Grew unto daisies enrobed with prickers

Cutting the flesh of trespassing pickers

Blood seeps down into the yearning grasses

Someone lives on while the other passes

Baby breath uproots from the clotted blood

The stems poke through and petals lick the mud

The wind whispers slowly, the flower bends

Soaks up the vile black gore to make amends

Life from death, pain from beauty, then the rain

Washed away innocence down Reaper’s drain

Then life started new as it always has been

Renew the world once again, wash away sin

Tomorrow is a lesson that starts the same

Beauty is death hidden under a name