love is what is found in gods cookie jar, he keeps the lid on tight, holds it up above our grasp, until the time is right, a waving finger to those who try, the pennance then is heart ache.

love is the greatest theif, the sneakiest of rogues it binds your site to other places, and passes the unknown, it's greatest of feats; illusory, for more than even waldo, and hides itself where one dares not look, its hiddem deep inside.

darkness cast upon the face of truth, eschewed visions on its hold, nothing ever as it seems, in a world thats black and cold, any inference that you gather, any grab at what you know, can be taken all for granted,only can you jeopardize the soul.

Ring out the colors of the heart, speak out the visage of your love, ring out til day you part, ring forth the name of your sacred dove,

Can this assurance given now be worth what all will be at risk, when such matters are all unsure, the broken heart cant be assured, and if the matter is to fall, and such a self-mochery made of you ; the weakness in you now exposed, the bittered taste of tainted use.

where in me does victory lay? its darkened hand is clutched in the grave, its taped up body mangled, and torn, cast its shadow;cold and gray, with twisted features, nose upturn, without warning it was hunted, Pillaged from its noble home, consecrated into darkness resting now in catacomb.

ove plays the disc jockey to the heart, melodies foriegn to all in nature, but, in all regards as glorius every time they are heard, no warning, in their interest it is the music in which all grow fond, how'ere it is my regret that i have not yet been dancing.

Everyman is borne to barks every man a tree, to some go the briar bush, others born to tea, others follow path of larsh, they who follow just to far, I dont follow path of larsh, i am but a willow.

spurns and needles in my side, for every word not spake-their is so much i need to say, there is so much i cower from, the words that only stray away the words that come from my bossom.

there is so little that i fear in world of sky of blue, broken mirrors not the list, nor is the black cats' mew,
the only fear of mine on here is what i shall not do.

Battles will always be fought, yet battles can never be won, when the only thing that matters in life cannot be fond within them, and though it is within the blood this magic organ thrives, one cannot find a scrap of love in those who take anothers life.

Whoms hand is it to blame upon for casting you to dark? whoms unwelcomed judgement is that to break your heart? it is your own, and your shame will keep you to this state until the waves will part.

all here is lost now,
the Advance is closing in.
the world loses love.
Mmmmm Haiku-ey!

to the Soul,
to the tormentor of my will
to the insults that you bear me,
to the malice you forced in me
to the pangs of all you've taken
to the pain you live to give me
to the asinine quests you give me,
to your mother fucking glory
to the time you've shifted on me
to the grief you will not claim
to your infinite evil
to your glory and justice
to my shortcomings.

love is water to the being, it cleanses the body,
purges impurities, and hydrates our youth.

high on the mark there stands a mounted champion
she is known to all who pass, she stands there holding our wills high, among the willow grass. she speaks to us of rebellion against our trodden fears, she speaks to us to move on, to strengthen year by year, She is the being of our hearts and of our plight she frees, she is the vessel of all love within the hearts great seas.

grand is the theft of thought, for those who think only enable their own mouse and cookie, thus leaving a chain of neverending infuffilment.