People

My head is an atlas,
My chest made of stars,
My arms form a compass;
My ass is on mars.

~

To see an angel in the sky
is scarcely an event.
To often are they stuck up high
without a thought turned towards decent.

Here I lay on solid ground
staring at the clouds,
feel the breath within my chest
and hear my anchor's bound.

To see an angel in the sky
is scarcely an event,
when I have people at my side
I know are heaven sent.

~

Grace us with your presence
but don't allow a touch,
I no longer think your guiles
hold interest for me much.
But just for now I see you
for everything you are,
everything you'll be
and everyone you’ll scar.

~

Words that I have yet to write
prefer not to manifest tonight
but sit outside my stain glass door,
to lie and wait for something more.

The Constant Foreigner

The Constant Foreigner
always wandering alone
if he asks directions
be kind and point him home.

A Constant Foreigner
knows how to get around
spent the last three days
lost around this town.

The Constant Foreigner
knows how to demand
he don’t speak any languages
he’s a master of the hands.

A foreign man in a foreign place
A foreign hand on his forlorn face
Words of comfort he can’t ear
Fills the lips within his hear.

A Constant Foreigner
to tired to be alone
if he asks directions
be kind and take him home.

A constant Foreigner came to touch the stars upon your face
Come the morning light he’ll finally find his place.

A wanted coroner
I haven’t seen around
asked his clients where to hide -
heard he’s underground.