A seed, set into soil, seeded to be
a great oak tree.
sprouts in deepest of hells floors
towers unto heaven’s door.
Many try the climb and fail
Not many live to tell the tale
Many try the climb and find
At the top they are forgiven sin.
Many will gaze upon the tree
maybe you.
Maybe me.
Golden fruit and angels high
branches of life unto the sky.
Pleasure below, swapped for the soul
Ecstasy traded for a heavy toll


Angels look down from tree branch high
Demons beckon below
One way yes, one way no

I am climbing from bottom to top
Although at times I am stopped
even when I begin to fall
I catch myself and begin again

That climb from Worlds end

I squander my time
I wander and wind between the pillars of despair in my mind
crawling my way through mazes made by “Phases” in my mind
trying my best to find out what it means to be normal.
I hear that storm calling out all the time
thunderclouds battering my mind
the darkness that rolls in on all sides.
My smiles come and go with the tides
betting my life on rolls of a dice.

Who is it that deicides that I have to feel this way?
Who is it that decides the worth of my life?
who is it that decides I should feel this pain, or behave astray or be taken away
from my mum: when I was young.
I don’t have the power to be okay,
I don’t have the power to end my days
or let go of my pain.

why can’t I be like them?
why can’t I think about cars and tv?
why do I think of stars and poetry,
or the feel of wet grass beneath my feet?

Lying in the shade of a tree
leaves above guarding
brittle bark, unbroken base
standing solid, a solitary sentry
surveying
Signalling safety to the seekers of sanctum
They search in vain across scorched desert plains
for a sign of the last tree

One more shot
before I Stop.
One last line of vitality
accepting that Finality.
Mixed up my realities  
Finding myself lost.
Swapping years of life for  
seconds
of Ecstasy.
And he said to me “I know I'm going to die if I go on.”
I thought that meant he would stop.
I guess not.

to say I am lost would be to imply that, at one point, I was present.
My presence was ignored from the time I crawled the floors,
feelings inside developed into sores
boring onto my soul scars.
My father, my guide, idolised in mind.
They say love is blind but
when eyes open and you find monsters, sponsors of crime
doing time for an easy dime,
can you carry that love on
or does that one idol burn?
I am lost or
rather never found, no guide by my side,
just going with the tide and building walls, to keep these feelings back,
that torment my mind.
The foundries of feeling’s forges have gone cold, Shut away and barricaded
by un-shaken walls.
So I wander, in search of myself,
I wonder
if I’ll be found or
if I’m bound for a battery of life: