Looking for an echo

Play some doo-woop when I close,
earth angel a cappella into sixteen
candles overdose, looking for one
echo reverbing into soul complete.

Sweet sounds soar off subway tiles,
a white and grimy womb for rebirth
scrubbed by angelic harmonies neat,
little Frankie's tomb is not plumb yet.

If within a nested set so brightly painted

If within a nested set so brightly painted
the faces seem a bit contrived, with rough 
rouge ooze to thickly rush a thin disguise,
smiles too bluish to fool a sampling mind

with gnarled fingers to grasp the tropic root 
rolling from the antipodes soft into laughter
while a warm sunset inflames a viral dance.
If distant orange circles encircle, and snakes

in tropical spirals around frozen glances twirl,
the northern lights slither diamond and yellow
while on the lunar child a sneaky goat awaits.