Calm they say before the storm
and day before night
stars in quantity
and light is never bright

all the will of man lays cold upon the ground
and in the vision left
I hear the single sound
of wisdom

granted to a man a woman
at his feet
while tired
and lonely
still the darken street

a bottle for a friend

a

 blanket made of straw and in the midst of ever after I hear an angel call

no palace on a hill nor

daydreams to scream and in the time before the dawn I will take her in

What is the things that need to be

a voice opens up the mind a thought

no man sees
 
yet in the quest for better than
 
few but hungry see the blessings all a round

 from street to climbing tree

a child in hope

 seeks what he can not have

a man takes what he can

and settles for the bad

Woman chases bad in search of good

we are what we are most often understood

a trip to be a hero in side our minds

 a

venture to the last of hope with faith tight in view

so well the voice inside the mind so great the solitude

cry or whimper what the same in risk and shadow

call wind and rain

feel the soul but we leave it all

in

graves with a name ours

they often say and in the last hours we fall to knees and pray

 a feeble lot of persons silenced by our mistakes

ignorance washes the blood from a dirty face

help waits in place not

 easily seen

and the girl is old who once was the dream

ideals and innocence a strange a failing lot

as the few reach for the haves and the have nots

The borderline between reality

 how much is the window dog

what will it cost to send him free

no answer for the world has changed

in a place so far from right

close your eyes and hold her old image tight

her new form is cold as day is long

and in it you question right from wrong

No place to lay your head

no

 warmth for your mind

few could understand those that could just do not have the time

so take the picture hold it well

inside your temper truth

cry a song for old age

sing another for

youth

a pittance is no a gash upon a fallen head

and bottle soft good brandy

are just like the words said

no want or need

 is

ever with out place

and hues of love still can be seen

in the young girls face

Crash in tools of loss

and banners flying high

was it that you gave up

or did you just die

 no love pure no knight on stead of white

no girl to give you love

 in
the cool of summer lit

a empty feeling as you lay your bottle down

the bed is soft with lonely thoughts

her bickering voice rips holes in your soul

near you make a sound

love permeated deep in side

but body rejects

and the pride of self dissipates

to a lone

 heart driven by a stake can you see the wind it takes and takes and takes

Half a man tempted shrew lays cold upon a stone

a shroud of life lingers but the grave digger has gone

home no night gown dances in his view

and the results of age have taken even the likes of you

pleasant is the farce that passes for life

as words decorate the stage

in actors face in makeup paste it fades

 from

view the lights on edge fall

on what is left of two.

Bars and halls dance in merry way

 and time kiss the death of just up
and walked away

Robin hood and maid Marry step into the cold

arrow from the Sheriff's bow laid them all low

The writer cries
 the poet dies
the Baird can not sing
for

 in the forest no longer is a dream
 
too real to young no hope all is done

words fade
stage is cold
last of footlight broke
no fever left in

the pen

 blood will not write 
the spirit has become
a victim of the night