The Brass RoomThere is a world beyond my reality, and into my dreams.
A magical place that isn't so special.
A room that doesn't exist, here it does. Only in my dreams.
Every time I visit this place, it's so hidden, and I don't think I should knock.
It's a tight squeeze in, but wary, things are not stacked properly, yet the never wobble, they never fall.
A room of brass where the bathroom should be.
Along the walls, overflowing shelves of lamps, cups, and containers litter the room neatly. I never touch anything, and I never know the purpose of this place.
It's a nice place, how bright but dull, a place I like to explore.
I hate to leave, but what lies beyond the imagination is left to the imagination.
The Devil's PlaygroundThere once was a boy,The Devil's Playground5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
who gave his sister hell,
he treated her like a broken toy,
the devil was to come everyone could tell.
Here the devil came,
to pay the girl a visit,
he knew her as she was the same,
he saw her and couldn't miss it.
The devil played with her hair,
as she dried her tears,
she knew he didn't care,
and he stayed to kindle her fears.
the devil so happy,
he heard her cries,
and heard her pleas,
'there is no remorse for me.'
The devil danced his dance,
while she sat there and watched,
and he chanted his chant,
her soul remained staunch.
The devil's playground has been extended,
the girl's heart has finally smiled,
the devil was recommended,
he go elsewhere for a while.
The devil has gone,
to bug someone new,
to find a pawn,
suited to his new crew.
The devil frowned,
there's no need to bring shame,
by acting like a clown,
there is no one left to blame.
It not me this time,
it's he who lost his way,
I didn't commit the crime,
now it's his time to pay.
The devil is busy,