Letting Go

Get this thing from out my mind,

It should never undermine,

It should go and let me be,

It should go and I’ll be free!

Tear it out from in my heart,

From its madness I can part,

From its sadness I can leave,

From its gladness be reprieved!

Give me quiet from this thing,

Let the angels to me sing,

And their beauty touch my skin,

Cleanse it of this rotten sin.

Fling me through the air of night

To a tiny cliff respite,

Hanging over emptiness,

Hidden in the safe abyss.

Let it pass now overhead

While I pretend to be dead,

Like a fire let it burn

Till it uses all its yearn.

Drowned in the waves of night,

Of the scary empty fright,

Of the passion now destroyed,

Like a child losing his toy.

Like a child losing his toy?

A pathetic little boy,

For the moment is annoyed

Till something new soon employs.

Now the fickle flames have died

And I forget why I cried,

As the light world moves on by,

Floating like a carefree sigh.

Like the winds over valleys,

Through pleasant small town allies,

Whispering to the faeries,

Gliding over rich prairies.

Hantz Farms

The Apocalypse: what would it look like?
Half the people now gone,
When the gods’ dike
That holds back raging waters was half withdrawn.

Weeds overgrown, buildings abandoned,
Houses like faces of ghosts,
And locals who look stranded
On an endless cracked concrete coast.

In the streets of Detroit, I walk,
Looking over my shoulder
Wary that the locals may stalk
If they get a bit bolder.

In search of an antidote
To save the rest of the nation
Before the decay begins to float
And spread devastation.

I find endless graffiti
Like messages from a lost race
I find a past century’s
Train station an empty disgrace.

At last! Beneath the infectious decay
Lined up in neat rows,
I find children of the new way
In brilliant purity glow.

The tree saplings stand short but straight
Ready to grasp at the future,
To change the city’s fate
By one day being prized furniture.

The locals get bold but do not stalk,
They come to see the tree farm
And are merely glad to talk,
One says, “I don’t see any harm.

“I see only promise in these trees,
That from our torpid chains
Will set our strength free
To build something of value to sustain.”