ScadianArcadium

Here's to You Here's to You If you're feeling blue On this lover's day begun Here's someone for you to hug I'd like to give a shout out That no one is left out One single to another I'd like to say Have a happy Non-Valentine's Day

Brought from the earth, Conceived in the womb, I once was a child, A gallant stripling of youth, But not to be, For Time made off, Like a thief in the night, And thrust me into adulthood, The seeds were planted, And grew into children, The light of my eyes, But the years pulled them away, And the world claimed them, I gave them away, To Time's slow calling, Old friends and old memories, Mold into golden treasures, To remind me, Of times not long ago but, Oh, so far away, Like a dream, We can vividly recall, But never reclaim, The snow in my hair, Chills my bones, As death's icy grasp, Lays upon my soul, Holding me t

"Alright gentlemen, this meeting's adjourned," Geobbles proclaimed with a stolid glare across the table.  With that the assortment of generals and influential figures dispersed through the thick oak doors.  I, Dietrich Knickerbocker, aide to General von Paulus, was waiting just outside the summit doors, prepared to assist my employer in all documental matters.  I held my pen and paper at attention, ready for the slightest whim.  These sentiments were put to rest as I saw Paulus's dour expression, his eyes seemingly dug into his sockets. I proceeded cautiously towards him, intent on not provoking him further.  I asked, "Sir, was the meeting

I stand before you the Son of Man, The treachery of Judas delivered into your hands, For thirty coins of blood stained silver, That caused the world and Heaven to shudder, But I love you. You try me before this court of heresies, Whose trial is watched over by the Pharisees, Tried, beaten, and humiliated by the Jews, Even denied thrice by Peter before the rooster crew, And yet I love you. I am taken to Pilate, who presides as Roman governor, Whom questions me, "King of the Jews, whom you rule o'r?", He finds no fault, but hands me to the Jews to crucify, For the crowd request Barabbas and I denied, And I continue to love you. T

My favorite place on this blessed earth Is the sweet homeland of my birth, Living to the rhythm of a natural chorus In the nestled heartland of the virgin forest, Across the winding paths of the forest grove Among the hidden cache of a private cove, Feel the ferns that brush your sides Where the thickets dwell and the undergrowth bides, Chime to the chirp of a distant tree frog As the air resounds with his cheerful song, Glimpse the golden sunrise coming in view As its rays refract off the morning dew, Witness the silent, tranquil sight Of the quiet stillness of a moonlit night, I humbly admire the work by His hands Painting a

My favorite place on this blessed earth Is the sweet homeland of my birth, Living to the rhythm of a natural chorus In the nestled heartland of the virgin forest, Many memories I can recollect From several of my adventurous foot trail treks, Across the winding paths of the forest grove Among the hidden cache of a private cove, From the warm springs when the first buds blossom To the fall foliage of the picturesque autumn, Feel the playful balls of the sweet gum trees Or the soft carpet laid by fallen leaves, Or the damp moss cool beneath your feet The creeks soft with their layer of peat, Feel the ferns that brush your sides Wh

Looking over the fields I see the grass swaying in the breeze- Though it is here today and gone tomorrow and cannot control the wind it can still dance to Its song.

Walls of books piled up high;   Stacks of paper that pierce the sky, Pencils, pens with blue/black ink;   Gotta gear my brain to think,   I don't know what I'm gonna do, I keep a'moanin' these schoolhouse blues, Algebra, Geometry, Cal and Trig, (Man those books are really big!) Quadratic Formulas and square roots, Imaginary numbers to boot, Slopes of lines and matrices, When will I use any of these? History class is a royal drag, Sitting and listening to some old bag, All these dates and places split my head, Why should I care, aren't they all dead? Who cares what happened in 1776, Isn't that when Napoleon conquered France

Why do you torture me so with the things you never say? What am I to do when you treat me this way? I sit and I wait but you ignore my existence, Your callous expression tears at my conscience, Why do you set this wall of silence this palpable force of animosity? Why do you sever yourself off and delve into melancholy? My soul tosses and turns every time you look my way, How can you torture me so with the things you never say?

As I walk into the house it hits me, the silence. The ghosts of my loved ones haunt these halls, Their memories echoing throughout the empty chambers, The rooms of my children, Are now only filled with shadows, As I recall my children's lives it hits me, the silence. The faces in the pictures stare back, Their gazes unchanging, their faces cold, Their memories all I have to remember by, The only friends to comfort me and my loneliness, As I rummage through the pictures it hits me, the silence. As the walls close in, suffocating me, The sounds cut and smother me, The sounds of what used to be, Are the loudest and hardest to en