To Live And Die In Reach of Gold

A journal unfolds murmurs to mumbles
Soft like the fur from a bumble bee's flutters
A butterfly effect of born character
From a Prince as he towers the chapter
He blinks in rapid R.E.M stasis
Turn page after page churning crayon's faceless
Plotting and blotting shards of shades
In waves of forgotten memories of change
He ponders on a young Princess bride
Her pastel smell that fills the room she supplies
He puts his nose in the pages breathes death
Projects every step like a new born blessed
He crawls in catacombs, calls in seashells
Bewitches mermaids, slaves the beat well
Unmounting each paper plane like a bird
Channeling through planets like his mecury turned
An mc of the forgotten era - bound
To what was once his childhouse of lost sounds
A playground of stunts when he was just a runt
Even uneven grunts of his not much, gather as such

Who was to know one day he would be heard
From gods and back all the peoples "words"
They listened for what was never more
What's sure shakespearen in galore
The raw emotions from his barbershop blues
To his faded hues on his swayed shoes
To the dusty old paper its printed on..

to his final word after each sentence "PEROID"
but what if there was one more drip in his tipped crayon
what if there was wit at the end of his passion
through babylon and beyond babble he passes on..

the story of a lifetime sung in an orchestra of love

now the days have past and his book of rhymes still sits on the shelf

i wonder - as a princess
did anyone ever look at the negatives of such a world..

as i slowly sniff the decay spreading where it was hurled...

hmm yum it taste like a peach..