The word I have to keep .
Spelled with an 'o' after the "t'  because I haven't got a leg to stand on .

I knew your laugh
before I heard it.
I felt your warmth
before you touched me.

We stayed side by side
even in silence
even as time ran ahead.

We stayed side by side
in the quiet of us.

I want to be your scarf,
So soft and mohair,
To warm you in snowfalls
And even in rainy autumn.

I will embrace your neck
Like a mother cradles her child.
I’ll save the warmth for you.
Put on the scarf, be so kind.

I want to be your scarf.
Oh, don’t wear scarfs? Well now,
If I can’t softly warm you,
I’ll be your skin somehow.

There's a map of heaven
You can download
Off of the internet
All the major religions
Have got one
Well them that have
An afterlife
And the lads in the Taliban
Have got to have theirs on parchment
You can do a VR tour
If your feeling that confident
Apparently the Hereafter
Plays out like a video game
Generating then deleting all That remains
And the memories too so you never get bored
as you bliss through eternity feeling adored.

But it's just a demo,you know.

Give me a well honed
Katana
And I'll walk any street
Straight into
Well deserved defeat.

It went so quick
From bladder to boot
Like a Haitian
Visited in the night
By the Ton Ton Macoute
That was stark fear
Knowing that this was the end
No compassion here
Just torturous ruin my friend
Some say with a straight face
Hilarity
Does the same thing
Poetic license
Served by fools
Is one hell
Of a thing.

Been digging through CDs this evening
Might sound like the vynl version
Of me dad
But that would not belong
Because he didn't
View music like that
Been grabbing random
With all due abandon
First Johnny Corndog
The giant Sand
Then Black Sunday
Cypresshillian  demand
Scot Lavenne
The Dust Junkies
The Beatles
And then the
Realest Of People
That makes
oasis redundant
Which turned into
Cohen.

Before I was born,
God looked down at my unfinished fate,
And he declared,
"We shall make him a poet, but he will learn to be,
And not be gifted with."

Well God gifted me,
And sent me down to earth,
In the fall, a season marked by death!
How ironic I was born,
In the month of earth's last breath.

As a young child I played happily,
As the angels of dilemma watched over me,
And every so often sent a tragedy.
That I'd have to foster and live with,
Until I returned to God my poetic gift.

I

Fear

                       You are mistaken for that's not truthful at all

I

Fear

                       I don't like you like you think

I

Fear

                      I instead love you right up to the moon