Desperation festers on graceful faces,
Lacey white feathers worry thin,
Desolation angels' beat wings for Mercy's
sake against the wind.
Crazed over betrayal as the days wear thin
storm-cloaks on the horizon, soak in sin.

One prayer shy
of the power and glory,
Soaring past, everlasting life,
Nary more than a trace of hope
in thread-bare robes
they wore out in stories.

Too late to save the end of days.
Grains of time scattered in gravel,
Unraveled all that faith left behind,
Slayers from the frayed edge
of sanity arrive.

Fathoms of chaos harrass the light,
Menacing tar ships, dark contrast,
Arrangements in rage set to ignite,
Gashes a black hole in the ceiling of night.
Growing timid amass pure evil,
The fallen angels stole from sight,
Beneath the diabolic sky,
To plan a ten million wing second strike,
Sneak in on a slack tide,
Devil may cry.

Wicked grins
drift in the wind.
Hints of mystery,
Thicken the pitch.

On lips of whispers
sins of a bitch
wrinkle falling leaves.

Slants a sunshine dappled path
slips amid
dabbles in shadows,
rut slits beckon
last ditch reckoning
for fertile soil.

~etm

Hey, Boy in the Basket, we're wishing you well.
Hey, Boy in the Basket, you're going thru hell.
The winds and the rains, they'll try beating you down,
But you'll face them and fight them with nary a frown.

Hey, Boy in the Basket, we're wishing you well.
Hey, Boy in the Basket, you're going thru hell.
It's Rita that's looking to conquer you lad,
It's Rita that's trying to make you look bad.

Hey, Boy in the Basket, we're wishing you well.
Hey, Boy in the Basket, you're going thru hell.
You'll face her and fight her, we know that you can.
You'll beat her, defeat her because you're a man

Hey, Boy in the Basket, we're wishing you well.
Hey, Boy in the Basket, you're going thru hell.
Hey, Boy in the Basket, we're all missing you.
Hey, Boy in the Basket, all God's speed to you.

Please return quickly, Jeffrey, our friend.

There was a barn raisin' a long time ago,
By the neighbors and cousins and kin.
It was some hard workin' I certainly know,
Cause the hammers made such a loud din.
The barn had some windows and also some doors,
To let in the people and light.
And when she was finished, we heard the loud roars,
She sure was a beautiful sight.
Where are all the beautiful windows and doors,
The one's that we're longin' to see?
They're gone with the ages like old days of yore,
And they're fuzzy in my memory......................DEK 2005

No Door
No Window, No Door
Fuzzy Memory

The smithy's the fellow that handles the  bellows
That makes the  fire roar.
The smithy   strikes batches of  hinges and  latches
To place upon the door.
Smithy's building is old, but he never gets cold
When he works behind the door.
When he's done with his  hinges and finished his  latches,
There's fun behind this door.