Because of you I am so rich a man,
The sainthood ever mine a gift to be,
As I am samely sent from Christ to you,
To me your voice and chorus I can't sing,
Your wisdom, smiles and golden hearts I love,
To you my feet, my words, all I don't see,

We walk apart yet to the same true home,
Where all things rightly march else err to death.
The glory of the highest God supreme,
Uniting every fractured good we chased,
First place of Man to which he must return,
Drenched in the blood of God forever free.

I'll have a poem - two to go!
Please sprinkle in the crazy words...
Like jazzfunkle.
The kind that gives the impression of...
Something rambotent but that never holds a glass -
Of water, never solid but a vapour,
Of something hazy yet familiar.

The beating heart thrums loud unsaid,
From a beckoned chest - an urge to dance,
No, nod your head, your feet like lead,
The world is quiet listening still,
To unlyrics from jazzfunkle's quill,
Deeper than you know is you,
Yet you it is, for you see you move,
Your face turns sombre even stern,
To chew on rambotent lines and turns.

---

Nonsense poems what a laugh,
I see you puzzling at my path,
Its more than fun to walk on through,
I guess from over there I'm quite kookoo.

Dream vessel,
Washed as white as snow,
I see you again,
Drifting pale in the sideways starlight,
Yearning out an incomplete symphony,
And so left half gone...
Strapped in part to wandering impossibilities,
And chained to the tides of deepest unconscious order,
You stand alone, still, veiled in obscuring violets,
Felling trees like great hammers that strike the chords of resounding sleep,
And the walls of truest reality stand firm,
Begone now,
Your time is ever yesterday.