Let her know
Let her know the spirits don\'t rise here,
they wander the fields screaming in fear.
There is no other side or passage through,
nobody looking ghostly towards another\'s view.
Let her know her God ignores the death I see,
that he she it won\'t set the spirits free.
No light shining, pulling, or guiding them in,
no forgiveness for all these committed sins.
Let her know the images in front they show,
between the trenches spirits roam and flow.
They are cast screaming feared with fright,
and I\'ll be joining them on this night.
Echoing
It\'s the loudness heard in the silenced room,
the spider, bug, and the floored broken broom.
Each has it own sense of sounds vibrating tone,
each silently listening to the sounds they hone.
It\'s the noises of wings, feet, and past sweeps,
echoing in a room as it silently quietly sleeps.
Even the dirt and webs rest to a relaxing still,
and the silence is echoing in the room it fills.
I would
If the earth was to die in my hands,
fall to pieces and turn to dead sands,
would I miss the things I use to do,
would I miss the love I got from you.
If the sun was to reach and flick a switch,
turn out its light to become darkened and ditched,
would I miss the warmth that came from space,
would I miss the beauty of your lovely face.
If the moon left our side and went its way,
moved towards the milkiest place to stay,
would I miss the touches that come from you,
would I miss the presence of you in my view.
If the earth, sun, or moon leave my sight,
I would miss you every single night.
Single thought
It\'s the thought of things that come and go,
our pointed notions, they\'re moving to and fro.
Flowing in, around, and in between each others ride,
the thought it fades then is moved to the flows other side.
Forgotten the notions wave goodbye to flowing ones,
closed eyes is where the dreams, they freely run.
Imagination leads the flows twists and turns,
thoughts, they spin while the mind it heats and burns.
Back and forth they move and flow left to be forgot,
it\'s the thing of things to be a single thought.
Before I lie
I need to get my story straight,
before I lie and its too late.
Where do I begin with my tale,
at the dock, the storm, or broken sail.
The end is the same and I\'m standing here,
terrible looks on both faces of fear.
He\'s gone and there was no saving him,
that man flailing, he couldn\'t swim.
The storm was fierce and cracked the mast,
the waves came crash and off he cast.
I clung on with my deathly stare,
and yes I know this isn\'t fair.
Before I lie and it\'s too late,
I had to tell you of his fate.