Intermission

Chatter of bullets, the smear of the smoke

Dirt moist with blood and damp sickness of heart

The air rang with passion, now silence doth choke

All savage aggressions, fallen apart

Peace, a thin cloth stretched tightly over swollen greed

Rips stitch by stitch, splitting at the seams

Endless bodies growl, melded and bound by raw need

Longing quenched with pride's flowing streams

Will turn salty on the tongue

But pushing boarders, like a smooth faced child

Is an ancient song, backwards and forwards sung

It's the waning moon and the bodies piled

To black out stars, man's power is none

So get out of Versailles and go grab your gun

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The breeze dictates the path of a lofty, withered leaf

Proud in his season, he blossoms towards the sun

Arms spread wide, richly, rightly green

Rough rains rip at him on occasion

He grasps more desperate to his foundation

To feel the soft, warming light he knows he must trudge through the thick chill

Yet, when the keeper of icicles creeps in, leaves release their grip on sunlight

Willing, eager

He falls

Artistic and beautiful, as if practiced

The breeze caresses him down

Soft as silent Satan's secrets

He rests now on thousands of his brothers

And as the cycle goes, he is trodden into the soil

Veins and flesh break apart, fragile as they are

The Earth lays claim to the rotten

And so the cycle repeats, sure as a babe cries for comfort and milk

Knots

I've been telling myself words I want to hear to justify

Things that I want to do

Is it true, is it true

What I feel for you?