Between the stone the moss had lay
Cries of help left there to stay
Love and joy lost in the gray
A sight of the land so haunting

The boats on shore were but a few
Huts were scattered across the view
From erosion, the sands withdrew
Not one but I had stood the ground

At this very place where I had grown
Years ago, I had willingly shown
That I too could have walked alone
To reach a place of anew

But on my journey from the sea
I heard my people’s harrowing plea
From miles away—how could it be?
Had the winds taken them away?

Now that I have come return
Time has passed and I have learned
That each life will have their turn
To be at sky's mercy

I sank to the ground and all came to halt
Birds flocked east before all shook in vigour
Windows shattered under the weights of roofs
Stone homes toppled before acknowledgement
Clouds of dust rained jagged stones upon us
The turbulent waters foreshadowed more
For waves of sharp heights dominated us
They carried us, and whirled us intensely
Earsplitting cries now silenced by water
And when all had come to a halt once more
The bodies succumbed to the ocean's pull
I was supposed to die, but I hadn't.

Under the light of the moon
I'll spin the sands through the air
To pull the tides and travel oceans
I'll cover the night with glistening stars
For they can reflect on the waters below
And I'll free the night in a crimson red
To silhouette howling wolves and
Maidens patiently sitting in the night

The light escaped barely through the cold morning.
I found you broken—and I was too,
You healed me more than I could heal you,
I wiped the tear rolling down your cheek,
Your last word escaped the brim of your lips
So weak, so fragile;
And our love grew boundless.

The children grew heavy on our backs
The desert sun was baking our skin
But we could still see sand, endless at the horizon
We knew our last days were near.

It is as if every word I utter
I stutter as I rethink
to avoid their words
of a terrible idiosyncrasy
hollering profanities
and shame towards me
for the wits presented
to them for only glee
Their disproportionate
lines of reality burns them—
like the termites that feed
on the heart of a tree—
How could I fathom
their blatancy
in having such an
aversion towards me?

Crops crave for water at a hill
Thirst visible on their stalks
The sky gushes a coal black
But no. It is not rain.
Nothing to quench a crop’s thirst.
Only the manifestation of darkness
roaming the skies
And yes. Walking on a road, intimidated,
Before me, in the distance:
Nothing but dead man’s hill
But now a smirking old woman:
Silently still.

My pages speak nothing of love
For me it is sinful to glorify thereof
My journals are true to emotion
Love is absent and forbidden

The only traces are unrequited;
The remorseless: skillfully blighted

But he has cleared all heretofore:
He has rebuilt the love I'd bore
And come to me after a marathon
Jovial to have crowned me paragon

Now my pages can dance and wheel
And no longer share my solitary ordeal

Death watches us all.
At our birth, death lies beyond sight
and is merely informed of our existence.
But as time progresses, death plods forth
from beyond the horizon to the fog’s end.
At that point, death watches,
looming in the distance,
standing, dark as night.
For the unfortunates death comes early.
For the over-extenders death waits patiently.
But for all, death comes.
We near death; death nears us,
counting down our every breath
until the last.

We wither like embers adrift the winds
With dreams set to depart eastward
Packed bags carrying rations, hopes
You sought to venture:
The beds of roses, bustling lands to scour
Enter the crowds' billowing cheers

In the city's grandeur, eyes glaring upon you
There at the centre, you stood:
Empty in mind.
Your flame roused.
A Silence that could sink you into a grave
Turbulence beneath the weight

Locking yourself into the burrows
We become pale peeking boarded windows
Counting passers-by like sheep
Conversing with them—only in mind
Have you become friendly to the Silence?

I share a dream on a warmer night
To know your docile embrace
And willingness to return
There’s only so much space in the dark

A vision or a memory...
You stood at the pavilion with broken thoughts
Still ready to quell your fears and set it ablaze
And rest yourself into the fissures

Will you miss the Silence when you leave?
I hope to see the flames in my slumber.

As colours fade from familiar halls
And graffiti messily takes its place
The gentle murmurs, now lost in walls
Chatter no more in empty space

I colour a new place as I leave
Of vibrant paint for heavenly dreams
To ride the memories that I weave
And hear voices at blissful streams

I heard you—
Insinuating, fading,
dying exquisitely;
falling into your melancholy.

Father! Father!
I called upon your name
You heed not as days wane

Father! Father!
How long we've played this game
Where you've ran with no shame?

Father! Father!
Years after my youth waned
Why han't you call my name?

The whitest snowflakes gracefully glide
They settle on trees and towers of mine
The dark of the cave I'd gladly abide
A warm shelter from the frost outside
Night settles, I run to a tower of mine
Through thin glass I watch my first sunset
Over a grand forest of spruce and pine
Transfixed, I learn this I cannot forget.
And yes. My tracks had farewell longtime
I've journeyed far lands throughout my prime
But as I dwell upon this memory
The home I'd know only until then
My eyes pour upon the discovery:
I remember. I feel the frost again.

The sands were still—home silent trees
The day was calm—our lives at ease
We rattled no more than passing breeze
As we sang the ocean's frequencies

Time had passed and we rode the waves
Ventured far out—lost track of days
We swam through nights and their gentle haze
And we came to rest at each other's gaze

How marveling it is—beyond the bustling town hub,
deep in the forests, reserved on the bravest hills
The cadence of the bird's alluring symphony
echoes from stone, overflowed with daffodils

I venture through time effortlessly, walking
The gentle breeze erases my sorrows and fears
Sometimes the stone pyramids are haunting,
Yet magnificent to see where humans once were

As I gaze opposing monoliths from a king's throne,
I wonder of his essence and his diligent rule,
I wonder of the people he led who’d home,
in this place seemingly claimed by nature

Luckily the residue still thrives: red on cobble;
The waters and the plants breathe in serenity;
The beds, once covered in western blankets, now rubble;
They all whisper stories and poems into my ear

The wind blows and I am taken away
by the rich smell that lingers
on this flightless strip of concrete
bearing witness to the feet touching it;
haven’t had a touchdown since
the friction of rubber that last took off

But the grass sways and vines prosper
as birds, harmonious over the treetops,
sing past the mangroves in
a V-formation in the skies
I stand here witnessing beauty before my eyes

On this edge of the land, not a soul but I
sees the exuberant nature of the
spiritual wealth of the abandoned
Swept away to see that humans are
not needed for a land to be free

Now sit and watch
as the chrysanthemums
and the carnations with
their green holders and offspring
inhabit the rocky roads
leaving them no
space
to
breathe

       (indefinitely)

As mother nature
has successfully reclaimed
her throne;
This she has done before
       (terrifyingly; incredibly)
Though docile this hour
       (merciful)

The cadence of the birds
The gentle breeze
The waters and the plants:
They breathe

For a second the clouds
cover our sunlight
Whilst we are on a journey
away from somber thoughts;
At this point:
water silently flows from our cheeks
Enemies embroidered in gold dresses
deceive our minds
Light sits within
the warmth of the river

Reviles gnaw on her somber thoughts
as she hangs between beige curtains
tightly thick around her neck
absorbing lachrymal crystals under her eyes
Her many faces retreat—implode under
pressure—like glass borne on a cliff
As for her, herself, come forth many
holding stones—boulders to her—
ready to strike this candle;
intimidated by fire, she melts
And as the flames are roused
watch her re-harden: an exquisite tragedy

Although I may never get to meet
the woman who carried my soul
through the cosmos inside her body
from a winter's frost to a spring's warmth

I'll be grateful for the one who
spent her blood, sweat and tears
holding me in her arms, guiding me
through a journey called life

Without a doubt, I'll stitch them both
into my heart's core as they were
generous in taking time to sculpt me
into the person I am

EVERDREAM
      I ask on this cold night
      What do you truly fright?
      Your expression unfazed
      by the constellation's alight

EVERCHANGE
      You say sorrow is endless
      I say freedom is nearest
      Because the power within
      truly shines brightest

EVERGREEN
      Look how the petals sway
      as it leads you to the way
      to intake the beauty
      that is here to stay

It had been 11 months since I dared burst my skull
The ghastly vision that ebbs and flows
from mirrors to walls and solemn windows
Their precarious steps clouding my neck—
bottle after bottle and their vision recedes
How swift the mind guides away from the ruptures
How swift the world seek change at unwilling ends.
Stillness at the silence of once bustling dwellings.
Cyclical patterns I once fought to leave
Elated thoughts and galactic dreams
No longer suppressed within the concrete eves

As the tide flows back and forth
I am pulled by your energy
I am pulled by its consistency
Though I waited far too long
for the moon to settle down

Through the evergreen forests of the east,
the cold of Mount Fuji’s peak,
the pyramid of Giza’s stone heat
and life’s final feast,
I’ve ran towards you on my bare feet

Waste no tears and hold no fears
for this is a cruel game, my dear
Nights get brighter and days get darker
I just want for there to be
a new start for you and me

As our hearts grow further apart
It’s like when the sun and moon
have no time together to bloom
Missing each other by a minute
whenever the clock strikes six

Through the evergreen forests of the east
we’ll unite for the last feast
above the cold and through the heat, we’ll climb
to enjoy ourselves together one last time
for the final nights of our prime

In this bungalow bathed with mud and leaves
Moss seeps through fissures in the walls
Sprawling vinery rips through paint beneath.
As my headdress rusts on the window sill
I glance to hush its last scorning glares
Hidden in this hammock, outlining my fears.
This sunken land fails evermore
How steady the brick counts its last dusk
How many more days to tend to them?
Old tapestry hanging above untucks,
Undone by the collapsing roof.
Leave me here a bloodied man, squashed by rock.
Limping, gushing, dripping in my demise.

I beg to bare that feeling
of knowing how
it feels to belong,
the feeling it is
where what I do
is little considered wrong,
and the feeling of
being able to
reciprocate their muse
indefinitely.

Nonetheless, I have found
within myself a strong bond
free from those who
claim I am wronged
excelling profoundly
in the craft I have
mastered and perfected
devoid of the ridicule
of those whom have wanted

By the time the flowers curl for the night
When our innocence comes to rest at dusk
And you're covered in sheets torn at the seams
I crave the taste of your alluring crust

For all imperfections are out of sight
I kiss all your jagged edges and lust
Our bodies touch like our wildest dreams
As we kindle flames they way we must

A fleeting regression of an evening bloom
The echo of my wailing voice—distant.
It seeps through the ceramic walls
Even these thick glass windows
cannot sustain a reverberation so profound.
Why retrace every step as an image in mind?
Why does the image taunt on repeat?
Why does the image of past faults remain?
Why does the image taunt on repeat?
Why does the image continuously bother?
Why does the image taunt on repeat?
An echo of wailing voices under my breath
Snipping at my cords, they hush my objection
Silence, silence. Silence!
Remember, remember, remember...
“Do you remember the image of your faults?”
“Tomorrow we shall ask again”

How delicate the mind—
turbulent.
Devoid of warmth; devoid of comfort.
How cruel the nights have become.
The churning of my stomach grows
as I lie against callous tile.
My skull to burst as I
am erratic in thought—each one
burning me still.
They blur my throat for I grasp for air.

I cannot reach it.

Pressed onto these sheets, outlining my breath
In, out, in, out—each is accounted for.
I've drawn these walls plenty times over
I've sat for hours to sink into myself
I've swallowed melodies, delicacies and crack
Oozing mulberry, prune and cherry
Collapsing at the thought of it gone.
How do you feel when there is nothing to?
How do you retreat only to return again?
I am a puzzle who no one dares to sort.

And at night I plunge myself
Downstream into a river of foam
Set adrift to visions of grandiose places
Flaring fluorescence and friendly faces
Taking the time to tour towering cities
Where the rumors speak of golden tables
Gatherings for the dapper and pristine
I see myself indulged in flattery
A puzzle sorted exact.
And having drawn these paths
I'm jolted back upstream
Feeling the weight again.
Mulberry, prune and cherry