

Give Me the TangibleGive Me the TangibleGive Me the Tangible
Touch my hand and I will Know that you are real. For your words are but my weary mind’s hallucination Concocted to combat the miasmic loneliness Holding me hostage to this Doldrum-life.
Reach your unearthly hand beyond my mortal page, And touch the flawed face you so grandly proclaim To love above life and death.
Touch me and I will know, That I’m not just making this all up, Not fooling myself with hope built on Sandy shores
That will wash wishful thinking into Reality’s unforgiving hands.
Give me


Don't Play it Again SamDon’t Play it Again SamDon't Play it Again Sam
Sing me the song, That I’ll never hear from his lips. Sing it slowly and sweetly, Let the words wrap around me, And be, My comforting chains.
Let the music fill the dusty barroom So that every forgotten corner may know, Of the dream dispersing, With every melancholy note you play.
And when the melody ceases, When the verse is complete, And the piano falls silent, Don’t tell me that you’re sorry. Don’t give me dimwitted hope or half-hearted sympathy.
Just leave me here with my whisky, And tea


Cruel BeautyCruel BeautyCruel Beauty
My sweet dream, Where did you go? I scarcely knew you Across the empty distance, Scarcely began to feel the
Radiating glow from your guileless smile And the cashmere empathy in your eyes, Before you were gone. Plucked from my eyes, Like some offending weed I grew to love.
Now your evanescenced form Haunts my tortured soul, That such beauty should exist Too far from my straining hands reach. That love should be so cruel as to Present us with what Will never be ours. Dangle fantasies dripping desire  
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Try to define art and you try to destroy it. Laws can't define it. Nor medium chain it. No old idea or imitation survives. It creates its own laws of change. Witness time and again to the rebirth of art. It translates the human experience because Art IS.
I love compliments as much as the next person.
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