The ocean does not speak of sadness For sadness has no voice that can say That being empty is like being filled forever An infinite without a way And when I with my eyes look out At a world where each face has a place I wonder who really wins If it’s in a circle that everyone does race True it is tragic that in the end There is no magic that holds all the cards For his is the glory of the game Who plays his joker as ace when it’s hard And I know in this mesmerizing madness For the follicle of that forever fame People play their pieces for practice Unaware that they will never be the same And so do I yearn to sit By the shore where horizons do cease And thank the seed of silence For this life that I had on a lease
The walls aren’t painted And there are orange pips on the table Arranged like a ten o’clock shadow Of an ornament left in a glass case And I dare not disturb Her architecture The tainted texture That peers out, as symbols, as summations Meaningless veracities, punctuated by punctuations.
I cough And the dust coughs with me For the echo is swallowed By the floorboards Beneath our feet So I dance, I tiptoe I jump and I let go To remain suspended An unlighted chandelier Burning butanol or some such nonsense In my pockets
My garden has gone grey The flowers; asthmatic Now wheeze in the wind Wrinkled and waiting For the next iteration of spring A seasonal afterlife That feels no soul smile and say; I will let you live If you follow my way
Curious is the world’s design They who smile never know why And they who claim that they do Knows in their heart that it’s a lie Is happiness something That can never be found Like corners of a map Of a world that goes round
If only I had Eyes that could see all Every thread of a thought From even streams and the stone I think I know What I would have known That this all, this enigma This play supposed to go on Is not worded by us We who think we have won For each life afterall in the end is the same Closed eyes, broken breaths And lost dreams with no name.
If my face now makes you weep Let my voice then put you to sleep So tomorrow when you awake Like a flower on someone’s grave Know there lies underneath He who asked you once to save
There has been a song in my head, Long since we met, And it had no lyrics of love, Just a music underway, I hum it when sad, When happy I whistled it twice, Only to find it everywhere, other day, With people like me; without a choice
Ivory atoned in milk, Alabaster laid in salt, Your clothes, moonlight threaded, Upon skin without a fault.
(I ramble of your beauty, When nothing is to be thought about)
Remember the vase I gifted you once, Wrinkled porcelain, Thunder in glass, And you kept it hidden, under your warm clothes, Deep in the closet, Lest no mourner of life, of eternal charm, Plucks a fountain of flower, To abide, this graceful tomb; We adore and abide and anoint, With feelings, like watered paint, like warm breathe, Or something more forgettable.
I found pieces of it the other day, Shards of symphony, Scattered voices, Gleaming, under the stairway, Spiting neon light; Forked tongue, poison.
You had after all, Plucked one, a deep dark red, It’s fragrance; my fear of all things left unsaid.
There is a reason roses have thorns, Everything comes at a price, Love is not a line in stone, Sometimes its roll of a dice.
Now you tail windmills, And I can see your feet, nestled in grass, And your hand in your hair, Untying my knots, So the new wind, the new time, Can hold you aloft And make you feel at home As if that can suffice your bohemian soul That jukebox of rhythms You shuffle to make whole.
Love to you was just a word to behold Words to you were feelings to be sold Feelings to you only a reason to be kind Reasons to you were reasons to nevermind.
I shall remember, yes, When waiting for the flowers to bloom For a ship to set sail From the corner of my room That you, love, Never cared after all This was no poem or play You were writing on the wall But my life, this meagre, stuff made of snow A candle you alighted But forgot to blow And now the wishes they linger Like rats in the rain For leftover love Not poisoned with pain…
Camouflaged in the night Like outline of shredded trees I walked beyond the cliff with caterpillar footsteps Where Four Horses of Wind Stood grazing in the grove While the maiden with reins Having fallen in love With my absence, now looking up Laughed; the sound like hooves running in her throat, So I sat there in the center of the dying daffodils, On the eve; as rootless and trodden as any And listened to what the world has to say But sadly there were far too many; People talking about themselves, like children running circles around pillars asking: Why do silent halls echo? And closed eyes cannot see? As if I am a mirror to be mastered by their practiced soliloquy: No more, no more, my hollow mind; no more, For I weep for the thistle town burning by the shore Black windows watching the white horizon Coming closer for an embrace When the sun is cold in the night While the sea shapes the souls of sand The maiden sits beside me And whisper That the stars are dust from her hand O I see now, I see Myself on a mountain lying Alone upon the apogee To fall asleep with the sky As a pillow beneath my neck And the ocean extending her arms For me to quietly take Before I go, before I am gone With the maiden of the night Before I know that the colours of rainbow Are seven sins of white…
If all the nights And all the days Of my life Condense In one epiphany without end Then friend hear well That the clock, when it strikes midnight, Will not be pointing at twelve
All I can think about is dust and dusk And drowning in a shattered sea Made of glass Like a photograph of a falling man Who is never truly falling But eternally trapped With a suspended scream In an endless dream Like a dreamless wraith; Weightless and wordless As an orphan in death
But sometimes the night is too strong for me to sleep And the dreams I have are too dark for me to keep So I become a cobweb on the far wall Or a three pin plug lost in a socket Some crumpled paper on the floor Or a faded face in an old heart shaped locket A catharsis of cause Building prisons to be free An empty ship sailing An emptier sea
Where there is fog in the air And yet I stare Like a blind man blinking Without thinking at the sky Wondering in my own vacuum About the mute purpose of ‘Why’ With voices at the edge of my vision And footsteps at the back of my mind I am dreaming of being asleep And afraid of losing what I cannot find
Thus, in this black and white world In this sharp and smooth world In this loud and quiet world In this bitter and sweet world In this dull and fragrant world I shall remain awake Till a different tomorrow
