Friends

A memory serves as right or wrong
only in madness we fight back in words or song
on deserted shores the heads walk past us zealously
to take what we have made of nothing
a million faces down to earth , subscribers to a heavenly way
another  head dying to grow  the flower for my lapel
a promise away from a corny heaven or balmy hell

a time to relent and sell my goods of worthless pride
sod's earth it looks to me up close, a bloody veil to hide

death is nearer to earth and hell is just a name

how some run to meet the garden of delights there
a bit between their teeth all bright and cocky with it

some  life ! commended into a shell of pain 
but matters not ..as all in hand or bush are far away
my feathered friends now eat at my table, .and we are well