I collect the tears of the sky
in hope that it will suffice
so that I need not release
tears of my own.

On the battlefield
fighting the adversary
who was once part of his own pride.

In his heavy chainmail armour,
he was struck by a musket
which ended his misery.

However, his beloved
would mourn over his body
as tears fell freely onto his armour.

Over time, it rusted
with gold.

People far and wide came in search
of this, now famous armour
thinking of invincibiliy.

Legend says the man's beloved
buried it
in the exact place he died.

It's so early,
yet so late.
I wonder,
why am I awake?
What an ungodly hour,
I think,
as I listen to myself breathe
and listen to the leaking sink.

Free love was a scent in the air
and the psychedelic illusions
of LSD ever present,
the strum of beautiful music
and poetic lyrics,
those were the years,
that was the 70's.

cigarette smoke & a bright sun,
you smell like cherry soda and leather,
you taste like tobacco and plum.

A B S T R A C T

Time, is abstract,
where does the time go?
Does it perish, voyaging to oblivion?
Does it recuperate, recycle?
Where, when, why does it go?
It can go fast or slow.
T'is a fabric, a constant ticking.
Time, is abstract,
and we'll never find the time we lost.

Silent sobs
Cries stuck in my throat
Heavy breathing, hyperventilating.
Even the sound of my tears
falling down my face
far too slowly.
I know not how to create music,
but I assure you,
I have an unbearable capacity
to create a cacophony of melancholy.

ladies and gentlemen,
let us sing together now
as though we were an acapella.

A youth adored by a goddess of love and beauty
He was confident, with stricking features.
His bravery, a virtue admired by many
led to his demise.
Was it the chaste huntress Artemis who ended him?
He was to spend the afterlife in the underworld
during the chilling season that frosted the Earth
And spend the summers with Aphrodite.
He was stricking, and melted the chill
of the underworld.

There is a fine line
between the utmost bravery
and utter stupidity.
I remain treading carefully
across that line
as though I were performing for a circus.

the rain smashed against glass,
trying to penetrate the shield,
only to drip down
in a gloomy failure.

a teacup in my hand
is warm, steamy.
i sip the earl grey with a sigh,
looking at the continuous dewdrops
falling icily from the sky.

I love myself,
not like Narcissus,
rather likes Artemis
as I am always hunting for validation.

The perfect distraction
to pull out the lies
of an alibi
is over food and drink.

Prickling thorns on a white rose;
it has been stained by Adonis' blood-
care for nectar, Highness?
I offer you my condolences and my adoration,
wouldn't you accompany me?

In my home,
I fight alone.

Alone protects me,
I have naught to fear,
for someone will not hurt me
if I remain alone.

We are like
the alpha centauri;
orbiting each other,
chasing,
in a universe we can call our own
amongst the stars.

I'm an amateur poet,
passing along messages of sorrow and wisdom
like a child passing notes in class.

She cries for her children.
she sheds the tears
they bury deep inside;
she charges into battle
with a tear streaked face
to protect her bairn;
a mother's tears
may never be seen
but it does not mean
they do not exist.

You no longer
serve a purpose
because all you are
is an anchor around my ankle
dragging me down,
drowning me in pity
for your miserable soul.

I knew a girl,
Annie,
she lived by the countryside
away from the busy bustle
and loud stirrings of an engine.
Somewhere in which
she could appreciate birdsong.
She had a pond,
one that I visited often.
Unlike the reflection
one sees in puddles,
the pond held a hint of joy
in its still water.

Wait, wait!
I cannot do this,
I'm in too much pain,
stop, now,
I beg of you,
I'm talking to you, listen!
I'm falling,
but you cannot fathom
my pain, my tears.
No, I'm not overreacting,
I just can't help it,
my chest, it will explode in a matter of seconds,
please, don't make me,
I'm terrified!

You asked me to be there
and I didn't want to,
but now I am here
after all I've put you through.

I loved you before,
never her,
but I suppose you'd want more,
you'd want to be sure.

Small and plump,
a slow bite into a fruit
that sings a song of sweet and sour
until you clash into the pit.

Enigmatic, the epitome of charisma!
You speak elegantly, your intellect vast; you are eloquent- although petulant, sometimes morose!

It's a soft,
chapped,
sensational rhythm;
I'd rather not stop,
I am insatiable.

The air,
it smelled odd.
Like whiskey and copper,
cigarettes and petrichor,
but where do these aromas
come from?

A composition that turns to ash in the crackling hearth; but now the crow cackles, how could you?

Nobility,
they aspire to bathe in molten gold.
But what a pity,
they know not how to read the books of old.

Wrapped in chains of silver
a bind to their wealth.
Alas, they underestimate copper
and care not for good health.

What I did was unvoluntary,
my soul was unconscious
I couldn't help it ;
I was simply autonomic.

I was running through a bright forest of verdant herbs and prickly, proud pines that seemed taller than the brilliantly blue sky.

I gradually  slowed down, admiring the flourishing and crippling plants alike, like the crunchy copper leaves that happily drifted through the wind.

Tree trunks like rusting brass, flowers with lustrous, glossy petals from the utterly impeccable rain drops that fell oh, so elegantly from the Heavens.

“But alas, Heaven is here!” I exclaimed dreamily; the beautiful birdsong that echoed so subtly, but with such a strong and majestic manner, was pure perfection.    

The amicable squirrels that hurriedly scurried across the lengthy branches that created lovely bridges, where creatures big and small would gather in harmony.

This was Autumn in Heaven.

They're so ungrateful,
so terrible,
what must I do
to avoid these swines?

Such strength
needn't be brute force
only unleashed on your opponents.

It can be used
to create a sight
of pure elegance.

the expectation
was that victory
would taste sweeter.
you shouldn't lament,
for no matter the outcome,
war always tastes bitter.

Whiskey and metal,
we wear black,
not to mourn,
but to hide.

you're so dull,
so simple,
so
black and white.

that's how you see the world,
right?
black and white.

i,
however,
see the world
in colour.

His eyes,
I remember them fondly.
Iris' like amber, and perhaps specks of citrine,
but you'd have to be close enough to gaze into them.

His pupils were dark, like black pearls
sitting in the throne of an oyster.

His eyelashes were black, like the night of a new moon,
and fluttered like the flap of a raven's wing.

Yes, I recall,
his eyes were beautiful.

The window to the soul, they say?
Well, I suppose that makes sense.
He was utter magnificence,
and his soul was beautiful too.

I used to gaze upon dandelions
as if the were flowers.
"They are only weeds, darling. We must rid of them."
But without them, I felt as though
our garden had too much space.
It wasn't cluttered with yellow,
it was bland.

I smell petrichor,
as dew lands on grass.
I smell cinnamon
on the bristling autumn leaves.
I smell copper
as I ***** my finger
on a crippled rose.
What a blend,
such pleasan aromas.

I am guided by darkness
for I have been blinded
by love
like it was a bright,
white light.

my perspective on life
is optimistic, blissful.
while i try,
i really do,
to look on the bright side
where the sun shines.
however, obstacles
never rest
and make life bliss,
with a side of misfortune.

Your scent,
it smells like blood.
Your skin,
it tastes of blood.
Your chapped lips,
they seethe blood.
I love it,
but does that mean
that I am bloodlust?

I lay in the sand as the ocean caresses my skin
as it crawls boldly to the shore.
I ask for a favour, but the sea is its own master.
It is hungry, insatiable. It desires blood.
The moon shines brilliantly upon the ocean,
illuminating the flowing string of blood
that choses to meander upon crystalline waves.
I stare at the moon as she takes my unborn child.
"Do protect her, please."

1923,
leather cover,
French poetry.

A lithe breeze
sweeps the hair
from my face
so that I may
appreciate
the good in the world.