What Mama Told Dada Made Dada Blush
Beaten up beaten down and left to cry
left to die where
not even the trees can be happy.
Float glide slip slide where the waters
insist you naught be dry, just to cry
some more (unto big weepiness again).
The real night has no shadows to deceive
our senses. It's a place of deep peace. Not
hardly the place of trepidation fulla spooks,
devils, anti-christs, vampires, or the like.
Tis the same
care-free playground where children have a
chance to become saints in any given daylight,
The rotted dead pose no threat here