Neverland

Call all of the lost boys I’m leaving Neverland,

I’m packing away my toys, and my stories,

Leaving them for recollection down the road.

Farewell! Farewell, for you cannot join me past the folds

Of time. Leave you in the rhyme, I must, I must

Dust you off when I’m old and yearning.

Gone are the days when we watched the dinosaurs

Float through the sky. Gone are mermaids, talking cars,

The genie, his lamp, and dreams of conquering mars.

 I must take my place as Atlas, and there is no room for bliss.

My bags are packed. My feet are ready. No time for a goodbye kiss

Piglet, I must be off. But soon I find,

On the edge of 100 Acre I realize I haven’t a clue!

Because my heart is a big jar of honey, filled up just for Pooh.

Because I wish I had three wishes, all of them to stay with you.

Farewell to the others who lives will be bland,

Call all of the Lost Boys I’m never leaving Neverland!  

Hangman

Oh Hangman! Hangman what have I done?

My life before, no evil had I spun,

No wrongs wrought me to this dusty alter.

My last words, I vow, should surely falter.

When neck and noose meet in matrimony,

When I an angel, my feet hovering

I should kiss the angel of death,

And my freedom flutters with the doves.

At the gallows I do stand,

In front of the mourning sun.

Oh Hangman! Hangman!

What have I done?

The Absence of Age

In the absence of age, love is free
The truths of words are the strings of heart
And the heart strings of a harp, you look at me
Together, ageless, forever one part
Sheets on the moonlit summers eve
Your eyes are stars the sky a mirror
Souls intertwined neither able to breathe
Always pulled apart wishing to be nearer
I the moon you the sun, the earth our love
Because you burn bright a true goddess
And i'm only there because your above
I sit under, loving none the less
You are a morning dove, and I the night
We can never be even though its right

Phoenix

A man is dead
red ash and white flames fall
Out of the cinder comes a cry
a dead man brings new life's call
the head of a small bird pokes through the dust
eyes blind and memory blank
He shakes to find he is out of the ashey womb
A hiccup of flame, and a flutter of undeveloped wings
in the dead man's tomb