By the night one long dark road
the houses are deep in slumber.

Lucky I'm alive and awake,
can see the stars
in their vast magnitude of silence
gentle and not drunk
have love to count upon
filled with a will to live
feeling I'm almost done.

Having a life is a great reward
and with the residues
gets more valuable.

I won't cry over the lost years
would rather think
have been blessed with enough.

The stars grow blurry dots
as I slip into dreams.

I had a once upon place
and I'm grateful.

With dewy eyes
I hurry to the warmest space
beside her.

Where whispers hollow and hollow's whisper
Running water and time go swifter
A flawless work with flawless rhyme
Can't rush the sunrise, take your time

Follow the fate that you chose
Watch closely now, count the crows
Though our heroes are running short
Enter into our murderous court

I wouldn't want to live forever.
Forever seems too much.
Too much pain and
too much sadness.
Too much work and
not enough happiness.

But there is one thing I would like to do forever,
and that is

L O V E

For I do not think that it is possible
to love
too much.

It's been a while since I wrote of you
To be honest I've had a lot to do
I carry this weight on my shoulder
a weight that's heavier than any boulder.

Yes it is hard to carry on
and I know it is no fun
but do I really have a choice?
when nobody can hear my voice

I have no option but to smile
even when everything's quite vile
They do not see all these pointless tries
They do not read the pain in my eyes

So I am alone once more
On this cold and misty shore
Next to the sea
amidst the trees
Beneath the moon
I look at you
I look at you
I look at you

Hi beautiful,

Love lives here, and we’ve got a room to spare.

Signed,
Forever Yours

lost moments were
found in sunshine

drenched in melancholy

i can hear the echoes of
our laughter
shake the roses from
another time

another life

i have a face cut from ice
a heart pierced in a thousand places
so to remember
always the same voice
the same gestures
and my laughter
heavy
as a wall
between you and me

the ones who are most alive
seem the most still

behind the milky way
a shadow dances

our gaze climbs toward the stars

"A hundred hearts would be too few, "
Oceans and seas are not enough,
to carry all my love for you.
To hold my love would be so tough!

Each morning when I see your smile,
And when I look into your eyes,
It’s like the day I walked the aisle,
I see the stars lighting the skies.

Day after day I hold your hand,
I walk with you year after year,
You are my Queen from Fairyland,
And heaven starts for us right here.

Your every hug, your every kiss,
A precious gift, eternal bliss.

You used to be my pink skies and cotton candy clouds but now everything is grey, rainy and miserable.

And it makes me want to cry.

We're going in a different direction now and I am not the one who pulled the steering wheel.

I no longer see my open fields flooded far and wide with cherry blossoms and all the green sparrows have flown away.

They are crying now and I can no longer hear your voice.

Instead, it is all a barren wasteland. And the sand is not even at least the beautiful orange the Sahara desert always is.

All the portraits in my castle have gone blank. The castle itself, war torn, brought down to rubble as a result of the battle I fought within myself.

I may have lost the battle but I have not yet lost the war. I hope.

Unfortunately, our worlds did not collide as subtly as I had prayed. It was a violent mishap, an event outside of time.

I sit silently and alone in the centre of my dreams as I have witnessed them being violently washed away by ocean waves with my hands tied and bound by my admiration for you.

You like beaches right? That has to mean something, maybe a reason for you to stay a little longer.

You are my Dystopia.

But dystopia is subject to interpretation.

And what is yours will never be mine and what is mine you do not even want at all.

My dystopia sounds like it belongs in a book, but we all know how long that lasts.

Burn the books!
Cover them in kerosene!
Destroy the present and all that's been!
No more ideas should exist
If someone objects; cut their wrists

The word is our's
Reality is made by us
No more books allowed
They cause a lot of fuss!

Ignorance is bliss
Books bring back hate
Knowledge is nothing
But misery's bait.

Your thoughts are our's,
Your mind's not yours,
We have an eye in all the doors,
So why hide in despair,
Just give us your books,

We will bring you happiness,
We'll help you love this place,
If you refuse however,
Your ashes will fly in space.

Stars above, moon so bright
Will you heed my song tonight?
Lyrics of joy, verses of pain
Melodies of loneliness run through my veins
I cry at the heavens
Like the wolves and their brethren
Hoping to catch a soul who might listen
The chords so joyful tell a sweet tale
One that can be heard on a passing gale
We can dance together
Like long lost lovers
Ready to see what the darkness uncovers
Until the sun rises
And again you shall rest
We'll travel the night
On the light we know best

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

every shout  a drop of blood
squirting from the twisted veins
the destiny’s road opens
to another quite unknown corner

every shout stifled by heartbeat
of silence holds a desire to cut
the uneaten loaf of heart

their ears are deaf
a head of stone
a body of wood
fingers of clay that
have forgotten how to clasp a flower
or rise a hand in protest

music that has become air
settles down at the navel of midnight
it’s an angel singing
under the leihao tree to sleeping hours
to closed windows and doors
only the leaves and grasses of
the earth responds

with daybreak the lips, the nose
the hands, the limbs, the eyes
awakened
the air lost its music
the angel is only a love disowned
by both the lover and the beloved

I wander through the sands of time,
Searching for that perfect rhyme.
The one which would set me free,
Comfort me in my hours of wee.
Be my constant, my wisdom tree,
Shield me from the flying debris.

But my search seems to be in vain,
Can’t find anything to ease the pain.
The battle between my heart and brain,
Is taking control, driving me insane.
Don’t know how long, will I last this way,
Can’t find sunshine, not even a ray.

But life goes on and so will I,
I will battle till the storm runs dry.
My body may hurt, the heart may cry,
But I will endure till I reach the sky.
May I fall by the pressure of the rain,
Look out world, for I'll rise again.

The tick tock of the clock,
voices,
the sound of the dancing pen
resounds in my head.

what am I doing?
what am I to do?
on this lonely night
with this blue hue.

everyone is silent
the world is asleep
yet my moments are escaping
like sand held in hand.

Time has stopped
yet the clock still ticks
my patience is gone,
yet still, I have to carry on.

This cold, misty night,
The fire burn bright,
The smoke and the flames;
As the children play games.

The sound of the clicking;
As the clock is ticking.


The smoke goes up, up, up,
The coal goes down, down, down:
Until it reaches, the ground.

The children play around, the hot, burning fire,
Reading and enjoying themselves.

The fire warmth stays in the room,
And the burnt coal goes up the chimney,
Into the cold, black night.
No light in the living room,
Just, the fire in the north wall;
With it's heat flowing to me,
Keeping me warm this dark, winter night.

Don't let him manipulate you.
He's influencing you too much.
He's using you.

Remember those?
Were they really true?
What have you done to us?

The grey days go by,
Winter withers my soul,
Each snowflake
Is a tear not shed,
Each silent moment
Is a scream not heard,

The wind roars,
The clouds weep,
The stars glimmer in the distance,
The moon is hiding,
My soul is restless;
I think it's dying.

I stole a piece of gold my love,
And stored it safe in ores,
I stole the dawn that glows above,
To paint the stars of lore.

Beneath the ore; the starry night,
We lay there quiet and sore,
Treasure that was so bright at sight,
Remains dispersed ashore.

Regrets like pieces may align,
In puzzling boards of fate,
Your hands will scramble all of mine -
For that - a day shall wait.

Shifting shades that lack precision,
eye evading, vaporous vision,
fleeting flickers underexpose
ghostly glimpses that discompose.

Shadows speak in trembling tones,
mumbled murmurs, cackling crones,
bated breath while overcoming
stifled screams but not succumbing.

Befrozen blood stills hammering heart,
senses separate, perceptions part,
lost lucidity brings indecision
face or flee this spectrovision.

Shuddering skin turns pearlest pale,
hairs horripilate, portents prevail,
cold creeps craze a mind affrighted
spooky spectres come uninvited

This is a poem.

Tonight I can not sleep
All of my thoughts are of tomorrow
My existence is filled with your desires
Time is asleep and awake
in the night's embrace

The air is still,
The night is silent,
The gates to the skies are open,
My imagination flies like wild birds in the sky

It takes me where the moon is singing,
To the place where stars light the torches of castles,
To the place where monks build monasteries,
To the place where, behind the curtains, they bring the daughter of morrow's sun.

This tomorrow is a dreamy charm,
This tomorrow which won't let me sleep,
This tomorrow which is seen on the curtain of my notions,
This tomorrow when we'll meet,
This is the tomorrow of hugs and caresses
This tomorrow, this tomorrow

My veins are bleeding ink
My pains are gone in a blink
My room begins to spin
No one knew how I've been

The clouds begin to cry
My eyes have become dry
The wind hurls itself at the window
The curtains begin to billow

The moon holds me in her embrace
And lulls me with her golden grace
No more did the owl howl in the night
No more did the birds flee in fright

This was the end of the journey
The end of a bumpy road
The end of a sombre chapter
Of a story never told...

i have the knife, i have the lead
i have the sorrow and the dread
i have the knife, i have the lead
i hold this suicide in my head.

i have the lead, i have the knife
i have the worries and the strife
i have the lead, i have the knife
i hold the ending to my life.

i have the knife, i have the lead
i have the deathly thoughts of dread
i have the knife, i have the lead
i hold the demons by my bed.

i have the lead, i have the knife
i will not live this dead half life
i have the lead, i have the knife
i think i'll have to stop my flight.

i have the knife
i have the lead
i have the suicide in my head.

'Twas on a starry night,
She was sitting by the pond
brushing Her hair in delight
the galaxies were of Her beauty fond,

but jealousy was the moon's  
for she could not bear Her sight,
Her halo of charm, Her amazing calm,
Her radiance and diamond eyes,
Her rose red lips, Her elegant dress
woven with vivid dyes.
those were what made moon mad
and she was also rather sad
her place was taken after all
she could do nothing but await Her fall.

So our jealous moon devised a plan
a plan more wicked than anyone can!
she hid in the pond and snatched my love
took Her away to the world above,
went around the stars and then the sun
and left Her there for Her time to come.

But the sun saw sadness sealed in my lover's eyes
so he flew as fast as any star flies,
he knocked on the moon's palace gates
and told her that God decides our fates;
she had no right to take Her away!
so the moon, ashamed , befell his sway.

So she returned my love with sorrow
and flew away for a better morrow.

I have repressed my emotions for so long
That I have lost the ability to cry...

I'm feeling a confusion
Or maybe it's just delusion,
Does she still like me?
I'm probably as annoying as a bee.
I feel like I'm a burden,
Hiding all my feelings behind a curtain
Of doubt, uncertainty and hesitation,
It feels nothing short of damnation.

I don't even know why I'm trying to rhyme
All of these thoughts and I'm running out of time
It's time to halt this cursed rhyme
And talk with you from my heart

I'm feeling so hollow and wishing there was no tomorrow, all I feel is apathy and it's pure agony, I can't even write any more because all my feelings are gone, what is a sea without water? What is spring without a flower? What is summer without its schoring sun?
What is a writer without his ink?
What is a poet without feelings?

Werther had a love for Charlotte
     Such as words could never utter;
Would you know how first he met her?
     She was cutting bread and butter.

Charlotte was a married lady,
     And a moral man was Werther,
And, for all the wealth of Indies,
     Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sighed and pined and ogled,
     And his passion boiled and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,
     And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, having seen his body
     Borne before her on a shutter,
Like a well-conducted person,
     Went on cutting bread and butter.

Some where in Paris
Empty cobbled street
You look at the river beside the street
There sits a bench under the moonlight
You walk towards it
The street is empty,
The night sky is immense
Even more immense with the blue stars
Flickering in the distance.
Sitting on the wooden bench
Facing the free flowing waters,
Under the vast night sky
You sit alone with the moon
Next to the flowing river
And wish that this feeling would last
Forever...

Me
You
Us

In all honesty
I have no idea
What to write about

Red ball (for better quality you should should read it aloud)


And if I said a ball is red,
and all I said was that,

and if you thought,
a ball is round, and on its surface
texture found, and on your finger
round and round it spins,
then off the glass rebounds
to take another shot;

and if you thought,
a ball is red, the colour blazing in my head
of ripe cranberries in a bog, or colour
of a short-hair dog that's trained
to hunt a hog,

I could not say
you understood, for in my mind
the ball was wood, and sitting on a metal shelf,
a toy made by Santa's elf–
its red the plastic kind.

One-hundred and seventy-one thousand,
four-hundred and seventy-six,
the words within our bag of tricks
to try and say what we must say,
and still not be cliché.

It's why I write to please myself,
and maybe with a metaphor,
or simile, hyperbole, or maybe
if personified, it touches deep inside
and amplifies, when it is read,
a human watershed.

There resides a monster within my heart
One with daggers instead of teeth
Swords, as nails, without a sheath.
This monster has onyx eyes
Paper skin as white as snow
As cold as ice.
This monster is my subdued rage
My muted anger
What makes me age.
It torments my soul in all sorts of ways
From lonely nights to freezing days.
It's cut off my tongue so I won't scream
For God's sake it won't even let me dream!
Every night it visits my slumbering corpse
It taunts me, it haunts me,
It shakes me, it wakes me
I can not scream, I can not breath.
All of my nights are slumberless
These tormenting notions are numberless.

Dear monster, please go
Leave me alone and take my woe
I can not bear your presence
Your sight, your sence, your smell
Haunts me.
It feels like the devil himself taunts me.
I do not know what else to say,
How else to scream
Or cry for help
I just hope that one day
You'll get bored and go away,
Go! give me some ecstasy,
All I need is a slight feeling of ataraxy.

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Have you really lived,
If you haven't slept under the
Ever so immense sky
Gazing at the small shivering stars
And the mighty moon in her solitude?

Have you really lived
If you haven't held the hands,
The soft, warm hands, of your lover
On a cold, crisp and bitter day?

Have you really lived
if you haven't felt and appreciated
The small things in life?

The night is starry and blue stars shiver in the distance,
The lonely moon weeps in her solitude,
and the spikes of grass dance in the melancholy breeze.

The red rose holds the morning dew with her crimson petals
and the little bird cries amidst the branches
of a once verdant tree

Trees sulk
Stars shiver
Moons weep
Birds wail
And for I,
I sit still, so sedentary...

In this forsaken tomb I shall reside
forevermore...