Category: Uncategorized

Toes of Time

I whisper the words you were not meant to read
If one were to wipe me from your memory,
you would still be you,
and I would still be me
walking the same paths,
crossing the same crossroads,
eyes on the sun,
hearts aflutter,
searching for a glimpse:
one for the brown hand,
and one for the white,
one for the long days,
and one for the night.

I wish I could close the world,
draw each corner of it unto me
like a blanket,
like falling asleep at the center of petals
and let the silence mould me
into something beautiful,
something lost,
something forgotten,
so that when I am found
in the middle of nowhere,
a child
unable to understand
the depths of the finger he holds to walk
I am appreciated,
welcomed home,
and not left
like a wrapper
on the road.

I feel the feathers in my bones,
and eddies in my soul,
as my mind flows
passing through life,
through gentle retributions,
via murmured aspirations
like wave after wave,
conquering and crashing,
a second of victory,
only to dissolve,
and dance on the auburn sand
between time’s pink toes,
walking on eternity’s shore,
barefoot.

I miss the time
when my shadow was small.

The Silver In My Song

The broken flowers they fell at my feet
Gold and silver, ebony and peat
And I knew not where this road may lead
Will I find in the end what I need
And I need...
A silence in the shape of the sun
A bit of violence with the face of a nun
And someone who won't turn and run
When I face down the barrel of a gun
But hear now...
I don't have a penny to pay as your price
I spend my nights cold and filled up on rice
And I know my heart is my own greatest vice 
Always afraid that my love won't suffice
You can see...
Out there those houses of princes and kings
Whilst I can only shelter you neath my own wings
And I have no diamonds to tie our rings
Just the hollow of my chest to rest your sufferings
So beware...
Of my sweet words that may seduce and sway
They only ache so to take you away
And keep you happy come what it may
We will be children till our hair turn grey
But I know...
This poem seems just a practice in rhymes
And does not cover the cost of past crimes
But I shall spend every penny and all of my dimes
For our today and the end of our times
So...
Never forgive if you want but don't forget
The magic of those moments we met
And I wonder if it's my heart you now so hate
But wasn't our love written by the hands of the fate?
Thus I say…
The broken flowers they fell at my feet
Gold and silver, ebony and peat
And I knew not where this road may lead
Will I find in the end what I need
And I need…
You

The Nuances of My Nights

            A poet knows
        The name of all places
        And directions to none
           - Not a Poet 


I write because it hurts
And if I scream they will know my pain 
I don’t want to scream
Don’t want to shatter the serene mirror
That holds together 
All false reflections 
The world holds dear
For the blame of it
Would lie on me
And I have enough confessions to pardon 
In my soliloquy 

I slept late yesterday 
There was a tempest inside me
And my mind was anchored loose
I was swayed, buffeted
And at once painted still
As if my soul
Was the albatross 
From the Rime of the Ancient Mariner 
And I thought: 
Every murder is a suicide in a way
Isn’t it?
To surrender the right of your life to someone else
Without a fight 
There are many types of murders
Of trust, flesh and mind
Common massacres
Gruesome
One of a kind…
It’s getting dark

I should have had dinner
But the lights were too bright
And candles too dim
The plate felt soft
And the spoon too thin
Or was it me
Who felt brittle and blind
With so many dreams to dream
And so few days to do
(Now that was a lie
For I cherish my own incompetence 
Like a child does it’s once favourite but now broken toy)

I am afraid I have found
The edge of my reason
And the world beyond (And would you believe it?)
Is a mirror…
It seems me and this mirror
We are obsessed with each other
In finding faults
In pointing out to one another 
Our own shrinking horizons 
Until one of us agrees
The threshold of our limitations 

I slept late yesterday 
(No, I already said that
Pardon, it’s the mirror reflecting my memories
God I am tired)

Good night

My Woman


He carried a corpse on his shoulder 
A straw man made of stone
And walked the nowhere path
A footstep in a crowd; alone
He had feathers on his broken back
Which wept on silent nights
And he wished for a shooting star
Having never had one in sight
The man was armed with silence 
And buried tears in each eye
Had no heart of which to speak of 
And dared not ask why
So he searched his own shadow 
That wet the mosaic floor 
And wondered if his life
Even mattered anymore
For he was a mortal man
Who died in his own dreams
And come night only his pillow
Answered back his screams
He thought of leaving it all
And be dust and be free
He thought of casting his anchor
In the middle of the barren sea
For him the changing world
Was a wave that ever repeats
And he questioned unto the chaos
Why do I rhyme when nothing fits?

Her face was a prison of prisms 
Her eyes twin melodies of mind
Her skin shone like vanishing velvet 
Her kiss was one of a kind
But she was no fabled princess 
Wandering lost at his open door
Nor was she a cast away goddess 
He had once prayed to before
She was a woman in making
And held her heart in her own hand
She knew the world as her oyster 
And she a pearl in the prophetic sand
She saw the world with its visage brimming
With light bulbs and bright lies 
So she searched for the one who stood 
With bruises like midnight skies 
He was a naked man
Unclothed; without a name
Who counted a single star
Thinking that all were same
To her he was a child unfed
Left to roam as a newborn in wild
Once without a home
Through fate utterly exiled 

He saw her hand in the ocean
And the world closed around his eyes
As he drowned in the water that whispered 
Breathe now or the dream dies
He felt her fingers upon his shoulder
And he answered back in kind
Till their lips sealed shut a secret 
Which no soul could ever find
And they danced in the depths like dolphins 
Two kindred hearts as one
Who wished so much for the stars
That they grew their own sun
So that when the leaves now rustle
And the colours do not make sense
They can watch the silence get slower
And the rainbow go back in rain

Shadow

I am a shadow,

Thus I cannot blink,

When studying the cold blindness,

Of this smooth, molten world. 

I am a shadow,

Sliding into Oblivion,

As formless as infinite,

And as helpless as one.


I am a shadow,

Paraphrasing mute words,

Raging amidst masses ,

In thread like ripples.

I am a shadow,

Curious and quite,

Like iron draped in rust,

Neath veil of silver light.


I am a shadow,

I reign on the line,

Nothing farther than thy far,

Nothing nearer than mine.

I am a shadow,

And I speak of night’s past,

As I sailed under starlight,

And people’s twin hearts.


I am a shadow,

Spurred on by flaw

With Equanimity my armor,

And ambiguity my law.

I am a shadow,

And I whisper through the ages,

Sifting stained pages of history,

Marking epoch and phases.

Portrait

Breath, breath,

O portrait black,

With blind eyes do whisper,

Laugh now, whilst the paint is wet,

For once the lines are cold,

And the hand of reason stays,

Your smile shall freeze,

As you would cease, to exist, to evolve,

For on the threshold of perfection,

The mirror reflects no more,

But resigns in destitute,

Having been deemed futile.