A Prediction

I predict that Ghost’s next Album will reach No1 on the US Billboard 200 later this year.

Let Me

Let me linger on your lips

As though a memory there

Let me feel your fingertips

As you strum my hair

 

Let me look into your eyes

And looking lose all care

Let me breathe in your scent

As though my very air

When Writing a Book

 

There is no way around it

The only way to get anywhere

Is to sit in the chair and go nowhere

To travel through page after page

World after world without moving

Interference

I broke those that I tried to repair

Not knowing that they were fine as they were

That it wasn’t up to me to change them

My dreams were never theirs

They had their own

The best thing I could have done

Was to let them live as they wished to

To have my say then be silent

To honor their choices

And be happy when they were

Nervous

 

The nerves are working,

Producing endorphins

The senses are heightened

Until they touch the sky’s ceiling

And bend back in again

Until nerve endings hang like jungle vines

Someone more experienced could swing from them and go far

How good they are at beating their chests

And picking ant holes clean

They know the jungle

And what to do when it rains

They have evolved to it

They have labored to become natural

Whereas I am still learning to walk hunched over

To stay calm when ticks are bitten from my fir

Bloodsuckers that they are

To climb the high trees without a tremble

The Flower

Ladybugs dot the flower stem
And its radiant bloom
They flutter their wings now and then
And fly away too soon

The flower is left quivering
From the bugs that have flown
Like a child left shivering
In cold waters alone

Flying ladybugs circle the flower
Soon to land again
Its nectar they in love devour
Until washed away by rain

Either way the flower is content
Its roots are deep and strong
It cares not where the ladybugs went
Its centre will bloom on

Bubbles

We have much to say to each other

And have been shook up

Like a champagne bottle

Ready to blow its cork

And be a foamy fountain

 

Thought bubble form above our heads,

Still we speak with great caution

And say nothing

That gets to the bottom of anything,

Fearing the eruption

 

Weary of idol chatter

Our thoughts bubbles float away

And we stay bottled up

Sleep Little One

Sleep, Sleep,

Little one

Night is here,

Day is done

Let dreams stir

Beneath your brow

Nothing here

Can hurt you now

 

The kiss I lay

Upon your head

The words I say

Beside your bed

Are the secrets

Of my heart

Are but shades

Of what thou art