Now, without fail, each early morning He stops inside his new cafe Suspects to see him sans forewarning Enjoying coffee every day. His presence noted, Jean-Paul ambles Towards his table, takes a gamble That his old friend will bid him sit And with a coffee talk a bit. And thus
Go up, Parnassuss, up and flee the flood Which will destroy the light and love of art. Forget that which was lost and gird your heart To start anew in sweat and tears and blood. There was a slow stagnation where you stood And time has come to toil and
Image of a door in white and blue Pulled ajar by vagabonds. It rains And I am stuck between the door and you Lost to all the light I hoped to gain. Close it for land's sakes; it brings a draft Quietly the beggar men remain Lost to
I have been one acquainted with the night. I kissed and told, smoked and inhaled, and slept With dogs and scorned the blinding, burning light. I felt the darkness as it slowly crept In cold and ice upon me until dawn. I reveled in the company I kept. In streets
The Servant of the Lord in Israel born Meant to be a beacon to the earth Full of hope and light; and yet forlorn Groaning in the hope of virgin birth. Jacob failed the covenant and lost The freedom which he scorned for other loves. Now Son of David, come