On nature

Of what use is innocence, to one of many years
I seek purity, to reflect what is returned
Yet I have known guilty pleasure
A Macbeth scar hidden up my ear
So then, am I simply faltering
Or is it a  flawed moral
my flexible yardstick

In Earnest Asking

Keep me awake
Till the last song ends
So I can hear the crowds clap.

Put me back there, on that creaking stage
I'll trade with the act and the rehearsed lines
Get me a small pat, some honest approval
Like yesterday, like an ordinary everyday
And then perhaps peace will come to me
Like water in a slanted jar shifted straight