Sun

child of heaven, hear my voice
listen to the pleas, 'o my underlings
you bring spring, to us things
reason, doubt and choice


tattered shoes grip the soil
green garments, yellow cap
life, from which we wish to take naps
let us burn off this mutual coil


flaming orb, similar in skin
in this way I feel shame, in fact rather
brothers 'o colour kneel before each other
fiery tongues infest us, till dry,and furthermore thin


the sanctuary of night, I repose
my head, held low, give blatant sighs
starving, the seeds of offspring, show them bony tighs
and could probably silence their whines, I suppose


child of heaven, hear me say
the sky you make grey, like wine
your crimson drops and my feet, intertwine
little is much enough, thats all I pray

Death's Road

The grey blends in blue, and covers the sun
till up in the sky I see none
upon the empty road I walk
the onyx ravens seem to talk...


crooked fingers point at me
like signboards for me to see
upon the empty road I run
I see future friends at every glance...


rustle the leaves as I please
and they poke me like a tease
upon the empty road I prance
the fallen twigs seem to dance...



dilly dally, I've time to free
maybe in this dream, I'll find glee
upon the empty road I trail
my life now is for sale...


send me away to another place
perchance I find sorrow, I'll live in grace
upon the empty road I amble
my legs begin to tremble...


the saying goes: life flashes past
but instead I see my sins flying fast

Because

upon the empty road I walk...
the reaper's scythe I stalk

Riverside

Saga seeds lie in repose
I just watch and appreciate
scents of treaded grass that rose
just before they dissipate.

Stalwartly I watched the show
bug-bitten hand on my chest.
Weathered compass in my hand
in such contrast to the rest.

Many mosquitoes recline
spoiling the walk and the fun
Wings erect, held paralysed
my blood tribute to the sun.

The stillness soon is dead, with
the gloom of incoming rain.
I gazed on the path ahead
this long trek would end in vain!

It’s sad: I still feel the pain
I can’t ask clouds not to pour!
Pristine drops slowly fall. Rain;
the situation turning sour.

I shake my head hard and fast
no longer thinking of this grove.
I slide my hood and run past
with the rain it’s time to move.

Life and movement fills the air
I thought I’d stay as I please.
E’vry scent, this scene so fair,
the forest moves in a wheeze.

That time will never come again
Frozen scenery comes to life
my solstice gone with the rain
the world moves again in strife

The trees’ shelter keeps me dry
but only for a short mile.
I think of the scene and cry;
a sight not seen for a while

Life moves on eventually
There’s not enough time to chill
How I feel the irony!
of the saying, time moves still.

I don't think a dictionary helps

Jordan Scott Miller, thanks muchly for introducing me to the grandiloquent dictionary. I hope that we can engage in a aceldamaic logomachy soon, and that you will cease your aoelian lexiphanism, your grandiloquence, your magniloquence.

yet another...

You know something is wrong with your hands when you hold the PS2 controller and it spoils; you hold the remote control and it spoils; you can see sweat droplets forming on your hands; you hold your phone and water drips from the cover.
DAmn this palmer hyperhydrosis.~.~

another one.

you know something is wrong with the tray you're holding when the $4.30 Deliciously Scrumciously Aromatically Beautifully made Koi Vanila Milk Bubble Tea drops off from your mc'donalds' tray.

Oh no I'm getting into the you know something is wrong syndrome again...

You know something is wrong with that guy when you dribble the ball away from him, and he tackles you with his blubber, causing you to strain your tigh. It's not a joke, he whose name starts with a J and ends with orim.