September 13, 2007

a last lament

your flaccid interest
burns my heart

our transient nature
rips us apart

the shambling sunset,
once lovely and bright
now languidly weeps its last
rays at the night

'ere, come now the vultures
'ere, come now the crows
to free what remains
as the agony grows

if its true
that a wish
can be got
from a star

but one wish would I ask:
to be near where you are

my insides are burning
as Time's wheels stop turning

I'm only a man

(...a dead heart sheds no tears.)

June 9, 2007

a day at sea

obliteration in my pocket -
what form take you today?

be you the glittering ale,
to shy away all that ails me?

perhaps you are a lovely whiskey,
to whisk me away to Neverland,
where I may dream of sweet things!

are you now a gin,
that all my deepest wishes may be granted?

your shape is ever shifting,
you dirty gypsy...

your foul stench permeates
my breath, my clothes,

you've stripped me of my dignity,
left me alone in my despair

February 14, 2007

Lost Dream #411

The bugs and birds are laughing.

They laugh, cackle at his foolish dreams
They will peck at his eyes,
eat away his heart
but even in death, he'll be smiling...

He never cries a single tear,
never mourns, nor feels sorrow for
this love that is only as real as
the setting of the sun

and the lost leaves of autumn
in the springtime.

He loves the springtime.

When will there ever be a time for him;
where do lost lovers drift, after they
return from the land of dreams?

In oak he carves her heart. He sighs in
peaceful solitude,
and the red sun sets again.

For love.

May 12, 2006

The Wastrel

The wastrel lies in open sky
and lingers in the day;

And in the night to stumble onward
searching for the way.

No stretch across these twisted plains
will ever lead to There -

but in this land there is no Hope
so take strength from Despair.

What cruel fate has made it thus,
this broken world devoid?

The wastrel knows with poisoned tears
how Life could be Destroyed.

To know of pain - to know of loss
when all's been burnt away?

In twilight as the red sun sets
subsiding with the day,

the wastrel dies this starry night:
thus, WAR has had its say.

December 5, 2005


Life's last breath;
amber rays setting in a crimson sky.
If we were again to be as one, why
but to feel one last kiss; death.