I’ve never smoked a day in my life
But today I could breathe that fire one time.
Don’t care about looking cool,
Those aspirations are long in the review mirror.

They say grief is a sacred giver,
But today its hung up its visitor sign
And its settling in.

One breath of fire,
Isn’t going to solve a thing,
But it might make the ache spread.
Make my lungs feel like one exhale,
Could blow it all away.

They say grief fades with time,
But today the future doesn’t mean a **** thing.
Hang the noose of hope round my neck,
I’ll wait this out one day at a time.

It’s quiet now,
In my mind the smoke rises above me,
A memory of what I thought would be.
Come to me sacred grief,
I’ve got no light but I’ll pretend,
That I could smoke this grief into yesterday.

Someone dreamed me up,
Crafted me with a face of stars,
A body to belong,
Though I never quite belonged here.

The mask was fit bit by bit.
When the voices were too loud,
In slipped the stone.
When I laughed instead of cried,
The stoic mouth formed.

When the mask was complete,
Not a ***** could be seen.
It was smooth,
Made of stone and glass.
Forged in fire and set in ice.

Now this mask holds,
Though there are fault lines.
There the dark and stars reside.
It’s cold in this place,
Though I don’t mind.

I imagine the time,
When the mask breaks
And those who wait,
Embrace what’s been hidden beneath.
It’ll be a day when the dreamer wakes me.

Alone on the plains of immortal grace,
Stands a lemon tree,
Planted from a single seed,
Watered by tears,
Pruned by a biting breeze.

Guarded by the lion
Who sings of wintry days,
Where skies turned pale
And nights sing.

Of an old soul,
Roaming starfields and comet roads,
Even as cold suns and river runs
Fell into black holes—
Still, the old soul roamed.

Tears of grief,
Like silver leaves,
Drifted on the cosmic breeze.

And where the lion sat beneath the lemon tree,
He listened to its haunting song—
Of love
Lost and gone.

Grief is a sacred song,
A raging roar
For his dearest one and family,
Buried below
This lemon tree,
Ancient and old,
Sowing bitter roots.

Where the lion roams,
He roars,
And the lemons grow.

There he’ll die,
Returning to the fruits of home,
Wrapped in leaves.
Until his song has ceased,
Lives the Lemon and the Lion.

I see the desert sun set when my eyes close,
Red sands burnt by a million suns,
Humming its ancient song, a buzz from a single fly and a raven call

Oh my lost Soul why can’t you go home?

My heart roams the forest, beating eternally
A beat of immortality, wandering among the black woods

Oh my lost Soul why do you sing such a haunting song?

My feet bury themselves in the mountains deep
Among the stones and twisted roots,
Where the pines reach for the starry night

Oh my lost Soul why do you dream of the grave?

The gift of life, woken from the depths
Born from death, reality is a fog

Oh my lost Soul was this always about the journey home?

Some were built for this,
Not me.
I’ve lived a life of peace,
Family to raise,
Work twenty days,
Cook and eat.
Bend knees to whatever creates ease,
Not me.
My soul lives in the hurricane,
I gaze with unease,
My boots are always on my feet,
And I feel too old for this beat.
I don’t crave the fight,
Not me.
But in peace I’m not meant to be,
Born for change,
Burn bright and blaze with intensity,
A moment where my fire isn’t caged,
Followed by release.
A soldier, samurai or knight,
I’ve lived and died,
A thousand times, a thousand red tears
That is me.
Biding my time,
Till my soul can once again breathe.

It came as a dream,
A nightshade
Whistling hauntingly,
Oh you came for me.
Of men and monsters
There is no reprieve,
A night of anxiety
It’s clear to see,
The hunting,
Stalking.
Cold breath,
Warming me,
Nightmare of love and deceit,
Embraced by demons,
We’re smoking away eternity.
How do you read
Inky streaks,
Screaming on a white page.
Oh you’ve come for me,
Mistress of color and ecstasy,
Like a drug you abuse
Before granting sweet release.

A silent morning,
Kissed by a warm sunrise,
Slick with dew
A beautiful silence

The silence of 2 am
While the city sleeps,
All is still,
The silence is a freedom song

The silence when you leave,
Is far too often
To be ignored,
An empty silence of absence

A heart of echoes,
Only I seem to hear
Muffled under the roar,
Of a screaming silence consuming the air

Silence is a beauty
Yet a horror to conceive
All or nothing
And like Fortune, bittersweet
A lover and enemy.