Woke I from an abstract dream of childhood
As I watched her fall asleep.
There is no pain like a silent lullaby
And God works in mysterious ways.
Connecting the DotsI've dealt in death with you. We knew the bill,
and going Dutch seemed okay. Colouring in the spaces
perhaps resolved the stasis of these outlines,
but now this painted portrait subtly repines
for life, for what small art is born of drowning faces.
Submerged beneath your throes I held a beacon,
ambling between your toes I worshipped Eve,
so saturnine, whose lips of time could not preclude
this fruit of mine. Alone at last, the senses brood
on rectitude, while nameless lovers leave.
Would you care for a lie? An explanation?
You must have your own, mine are gormless -
it was not passion, merely impassioned:
irrationally cherished, rightly rationed.
When did our days perceive this lacking
rousing spore on spore, spire and steeple?
Evoking the strange and sublime to embrace
the earliest preserver of people.
We’ve dueled with death and dice. But who can blame
the shamefully bored of rolling one too many times?
I knew the rules as they were spoken
and you let them be, bare, unbroken.
Death of a YearWe stand on the footstools of yesterday’s promises,
peering into the blue harmony of a timeless aubade:
the new year separates us from the old;
their rustic charms and world wise baubles
are fading, falling, kissing white December’s brow -
the magic is in wane, the Wicca in the wine
offers little relief in way of innocence;
instead the remembrance alleviates the holidays:
what a time it was, what a place it was –
what paradise it was - that spectre of Insouciance.
Last night’s basting, Jacobi’s painting, the real thing -
sooner or later everyone becomes a thing:
objects remind us of piecemeal courtships,
passion in a pendrive portends the minimalism of the soul
once feather driven by the heart dregs of Tasso – Toulmin
explains the six elements fundamental to each argument
with little claim to why we’re arguing and
even lesser qualification of why conflict needs a structure.
Structure, edifice, complex, fabric, battery cages
The Cycle of PassionNever knowing eyes never did haunt us
’Tis our own ditty which fails to daunt us;
The amorous rose or the lovebird’s lustre
Leaves but two shades for a season’s fluster,
Yet the poet’s pen is perchance guided
With rabid romance, nature unprovided -
For summer songs are bare conversation
Betwixt life and long winter’s predation:
Pale thirst for passion or higher power
Quenches its quaff in the quiet hour,
The soul’s tragedy is in demanding
Liberty lost from body remanding
Creation’s cold woes and callous joys, cannot grace
Vanity’s visage or the selfsame face,
In vain, we swallow the daily smother
To love ourselves, we love another.
Sleep Well, My SoulSleep well, my soul, the light has passed
’Tis dark, this closing hour,
Rest in peace, sweet life, at last
Let your toils awake a flower.
Dream deep, asleep, of each roving wraith
Which sought a home in thee
And sigh a little, for the wasted faith
Which were born of you and me.
And smile beneath the mourning ground
As the world clasps morning’s glory,
For the moon still dotes the earth around
And the sun gilds another story.
And then, in a squall of rain and rue
Lament life’s sole severance;
For god and men, we wept them true,
Slighting our Reverence.
The Fall of EpithilinonI
Let no man speak of wars whence
No answer graced our call,
Let man remember gods thence
Gods, watchful of our fall;
Speak in silenced sighs, men,
Dead men hither sleep,
No flag here flails, amen, amen!
Who can ever beweep
Our brethren in the deep.
Frightened colours breached the sky,
The church bells played a dirge;
The bustling hills and vales so nigh
In crimson rage did merge,
Archers with crescents held high
Keen arrows fell like sin,
The portcullis in sorrow, shy
Interred our fathers in
The last grave of our kin.
Wailed the night in thunder blare;
The mangonels did come,
Lonely trumpets singed the air
When Earth ravished our home;
The eastern tower, wasting wear
For a trebuchet did bow,
Fallen stone and ballista bare
Broke its stony vow,
As the beadle mopped his brow.
Mildly armoured, men at arms
Stormed the brazen fray,
Howled the castle’s cold alarms:
Ladder men up the brae!
Blazed in ire the fields and farms:
The winter’s yield was spent;
A Slice of EntropyLife is not form or symmetry or a stack of hours
on a dustless shelf
falling, hovering, floating, flailing
feeling comfortably numb
in a lover’s grasp
is the autumn of an ancient anarchy
knowing all these affections are temporary
and as they cease, so shall I
from a star to a star
streaks the dye of the unending night
shedding colour on what is alive
basking in the ambivalence of creation
wondering what is the great purpose
of existence, survival, procreation;
Why must life go on?
life goes on
fantasy, excess, poverty
of objective, of reason
naught lasts a season,
gravity is the do all end all
in the cosmos, time rules god.
Wishes and wills, thoughts, sentiments, impulses,
cannot slow that unforgiving arm,
or plug that black hole of impendence,
victory and defeat
will meet at square 1;
the cheers and the jeers will die away
in the violence of that
Life – 0. Death – 0.
Vita incerta, mors certissima.
To Kill an ArtistIf you were to kill an artist's will,
You would be killing their skill.
If you were to kill an artist's skill,
You would be crushing their soul.
If you were to crush an artist's soul,
You would cripple their emotional being.
If you were to cripple an artist's emotional being,
You would be shredding their self-worth.
If you were to shred an artist's self worth,
You would be killing the artist themself.
If you were to kill an artist themself,
You would be a murderer.
If you were to kill an artist in any way possible, through telling them that they aren't good enough, through telling them they should give up, through telling them they'll never meet their dreams or goals, through telling them they should just stop trying-
You'd be killing someone- Someone that the world could have known, someone the world could have recognized, someone the world could have appreciated and cheered them on and helped them through life-
Something that rarely happens- But could have.
If only you d
Dear Universe,Can you tell 16 year old me that I'm 20 now and I made it out alive. She won't know what you're talking about, but at least she'll know it's possible.
What do you believe in?Do you believe in God .I do. If you dont believe in God believe in yourself and love. Love can heal many wounds. Do you believe in hell. To me it is a state of mind but evil does exist . Do you believe in heaven. I do. We all shine on like the beautiful stars . The question is what did you do with your life?
Did you make a difference to someone. Money cant buy love but love can move mountains. Do you have faith in anything. Have faith in the power within your heart. Do you have hope? Hope for peace. Hope for a better world. I am a dreamer but I am unique. Think life is short friends . I i will live it each moment every second with awe and love. Love is the most powerful weapon use it with wisdom. Love with a honest heart and courage. Peace brothers and sisters. We are all a human family.
WeakSatan preys on the weakest of us.
He plagues the minds of the broken.
We who are torn in two
That is who he plunges his fangs into.
Sanctuary of an AuthorA staircase of pages,
A banister of words,
Carpets of similes,
Chandeliers of verbs.
A door of metaphor,
A floor of phrase.
Rooms of nouns,
Walls of essays.
A window of insight,
With panes of satire
Looking out warmly
On dead trees of culture.
Playing love, playing meWe'll smoke, drinking silence
Smiling gently, being nobodies
Here's to you and me,
Here's to this party
Pick a song, play me a life
Play me softly, without empty lies
Don't pretend, don't tell me no
Let me down gently, let me down slow
We smoke, cigarettes extraordinaire
We drink some whiskey, maybe wine
We get too close and then get some
We play some music, we get some fun
I hold my breath, swallowing smoke
You're playing my body, playing that song
Night is never ending
Night is never old
We get together
Getting some love
Mixing it with alcohol
Adding a little blood
But don't you stop
Play me all night long
And as long as you're playing
Nothing can go wrong