OR
The Child Is Father Of The Man, But Not For Quite A While

So Thomas Edison
Never drank his medicine;
So Blackstone and Hoyle
Refused cod-liver oil;
So Sir Thomas Malory
Never heard of a calory;
So the Earl of Lennox
Murdered Rizzio without the aid of vitamins or calisthenox;
So Socrates and Plato
Ate dessert without finishing their potato;
So spinach was too spinachy
For Leonardo da Vinaci;
Well, it's all immaterial,
So eat your nice cereal,
And if you want to name your ration,
First go get a reputation.

You showed me your line of vinyls. You know, I always liked the ones that dug their lives into music.
The way you'd add your experiences in tunes, your voice much therapeutic.
You played me like the violin, stroking your brown soft fingers through my strings.
Your blues flowing through my ears,
I could feel the skin crawling chilling feelings near & near.
Remember when we'd lose ourselves to dance in the middle of your bedroom floor.
The way we'd flow our bodies into the  rhythm of the beat helped me adore you much more.
The spiritual tunes of Michael Jackson,
Oh, you rock my world.
The sensual touch of your body is like the equivalence of jazz blues.
You always had ways with your words, my operator real smooth.
My mind ran deep with your influential words, especially when you'd make me feel as though I was your one & only girl.
Blind to anyone else, I felt as if I belonged in your inner world.
But all that came between us was fast women, and herbs.
All that I have of you are memories in music.
The words you gave me, no longer sounds acoustic.

People who are afraid of themselves
Multiply themselves into families
And so divide themselves
And so become less afraid.

People who might have to go out
Into clanging strangers' laughter,
Crowd under roofs, make compacts
To no more than smile at each other.

People who might meet their own faces
Or surprise their own voices in doorways
Build themselves rooms without mirrors
And live between walls without echoes.

People who might meet other faces
And unknown voices round corners
Build themselves rooms all mirrors
And live between walls all echoes.

People who are afraid to go naked
Clothe themselves in families, houses,
But are still afraid of death
Because death one day will undress them.

Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart;
Keep your pretty words serene;
Never murmur what you mean.
Show yourself, by word and look,
Swift and shallow as a brook.
Be as cool and quick to go
As a drop of April snow;
Be as delicate and gay
As a cherry flower in May.
Lady, lady, never speak
Of the tears that burn your cheek--
She will never win him, whose
Words had shown she feared to lose.
Be you wise and never sad,
You will get your lovely lad.
Never serious be, nor true,
And your wish will come to you--
And if that makes you happy, kid,
You'll be the first it ever did.