Beauty
The very word born of the trees
My stained-glass heart ruptures for thee:
A pang of joy to cure dis-ease
poem
Dolly Moon (4)
Now, where is that Dolly Moon?
She’s to pass by my bedroom
And cast a silvery, calming glow
As pure as white and cool as snow
Dolly Moon (2)
Now, where is that Dolly Moon?
I’ll woo her with a jolly tune
Tell her about the afternoon
While she’s still in her dressing room
Dolly Moon
Now, where is that Dolly Moon?
Shrouded with a cloud festoon!
If the wind had any rigor,
We could spy her fulsome figure
Dolly Moon (3)
Now, where is that Dolly Moon?
We’re to uncover ancient runes,
Carve golden numbers on quasars,
And play hopscotch amongst the stars
The Moon Follows Me
The moon follows me wherever I roam,
From love to love, and home to home
Across the sea and back again,
My ever-changing, constant friend
Nevermore
I’ll write a song called Nevermore,
And travel to a distant shore.
I’ll carve it into stone by runes,
Under a bone-white winter’s moon.
And when my body meets the coal,
You may yet find my treasured soul.
Flotsam & Jetsam
Flotsam and Jetsam
Were best of friends
‘Till one began
The other’s end
Talisman
The moon, the moon, ever my love
My talisman of truth above
Upon the sky’s holy priestess,
My devotions swell ceaseless
I See Myself (2)
I see myself in every park
Each sun-soaked leaf, and strip of bark
Each lover lain beneath a tree
Each sacred simplicity
malarky musings 