• *This is a long poem, but it has short lines. It has nothing to do with Morton Salt or anything else.

    Here we go
    Holding hands
    Picture show
    Shown again
    What circle lacks
    So must a square
    Strip the facts
    Past left bare
    End is near
    Or so they say
    Game of fear
    We all play
    Glances exchanged
    Across a room
    Preordained,
    Flowers bloom
    People talk
    But do they speak?
    People walk
    What do they seek?
    Record players
    Cassettes, CDs
    Hear mine prayers
    Beseech of thee
    Breath of moon
    Lick of flame
    Fork and spoon
    Not the same
    Cut the knife
    Filtered glass
    Take my life
    Take my past
    Examples given
    Taking notes
    Do as bidden
    By ancient rotes
    Cast a spell
    Cast a glance
    Once night fell
    Take the dance
    Abstract thought
    Abstract art
    Souls you bought
    You take apart
    Sell yourself
    For just a dime
    Placed on the shelf
    The sands of time
    Easily amused
    Or so she seems
    So long abused
    But never scream
    Who's to say
    The Reaper is grim
    When we slay
    More than him
    Thorn of rose
    Drop of blood
    Beauty shows
    In the mud
    Paper blank
    Ink well dry
    Poison drank
    Wish to die
    See the sun
    See the grin
    Tales are spun
    With no end
    Spinning webs
    Blowing bubbles
    Heartbeat ebbs
    Seeing double
    Take a breath
    Take a dare
    Cheating death
    With a flair
    Watch the wrecks
    Hear the cries
    Golden flecks
    In your eyes
    It could be love
    It could be lust
    Push to shove
    Iron to rust
    Take my hand
    We'll fly away
    Rock to sand
    Free the slaves
    Progress is slow
    Regress is fast
    Watch the show
    While it lasts
    I now pronoune
    Man and wife
    Once you pounce
    You take a life
    Take a pen
    And draw the line
    The tree of sin
    Could be mine