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The Beggining Of Something Beautiful

Put dandelions and red carnations on my grave
Keep your head up, smile and be brave
Even in cross words you still were loved
And I still love you and care from above
Dont miss me I'll hardly be gone
You'll see me one day so just be strong
Dont mourn me or cry, Its not worth the tears
Just know im there and I'll always be near
Smile at the ceremony and please dont wear black
Lets look to the future and celebrate the past
I was there and Im still in your heart
But now im gone and I have no part
Just talk like Im there when you need a friend
I promise to listen and a hand I will lend
Put dandelions and red carnations on my grave
Keep your head up, smile and be brave
Remember I love you and I'm always there
And even in the next life I still care


City of Mystery”

As Homer tells the tale
There used to be an island
Of academy and arcanum,
Where anything you’d ever dreamed
Could be spun from lead to gold
That legend called Atlantis.

Hidden in the Himalayas
Atop a mountain wreathed in cloud
Sits a city borne of peace,
Never a care has fallen on
The lanes and vaulted towers
Of remote Shangri-La.

The wreck of old Tintagel
There on Cornwall’s rugged coast
Where once was a fortress
Held by a guardian knight.
We ask the stones remaining,
“Were you Camelot?”

But Atlantis fell into the sea,
The mists reclaim Shangri-La,
Cornwall keeps her secrets.
The only city of mysteries
That holds my interest still
Is the elusive one called home.



Different Tombstones of the Same Grave

Death lures in curiosity without a collar
Thus, we're not surprised to see you here
We welcome you this museum of decadence
Simply - a graveyard; Deeper - an alter
Please feel free to browse and as you do
We invite you to take note of the similarities
The same applied effort in seeking originality
Point and comment with fascination and displeasure
Decide upon your favorites and linger there
We'll provide you a shovel and watch you proceed
You're actions are illicit but you must
Obligated to curiosity, you get your hands dirty
Discover where vain ambitions come to an end
At the realization that each coffin is identical
Made from the same place of the same tree
Not one that is whole, but only vapid
Identity is a facade of unique similarities
And when you open the lids you'll find truth
Underneath it all, each grave is empty


OPEN WOUNDS

The 3 year mark is drawing near
Its on my mind so often I cant think clear
My half healed heart still trying to heal
Everytime I think Im getting better I hafta once again learn to feel

Tears Ive cried stain my pillow
Hearing my cries and seeing the scars brutally show
After it all theres nothing left
To hold on to, no secrets kept

Sitting here day and night trying to forget everything
Careful not to reopen healing wounds that violently sting
And the thought of you moving on once again without a care
Really shows me that deep down theres nothing there
So alone I sit tears falling repeatedly as I try to feel the crisp cold air.

You had me with the first line of the first verse. What wonderful punch and color! That poem was beautiful. The second one made me smile at the conclusion since I could relate to the feeling very much. the third gave me a spooky feeling, but in a good way. The family, at my idea and encouragement, went to various cemeteries around the area and while researching the family history so some of the ideas touched a chord. And the final piece, oh my, I found that very relative, too.
All in all, I wouldn't change a thing and thanks for the wonderful little group of pieces. You painted some wonderful pictures without blowing language out of the water so an average reader could pull things from it easily.

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The first song is awesome.