I find comfort in reading myths
For even the great gods
with all their strengths and wits
Are prone to anger, sadness and
Are known to love too strongly
And thus are just like us.
They are finite.
Their lofty stories ignite our interest
for they reflect us and connect us.

Have you ever felt like Zeus?
Cause I'm sure he has felt like us.
He is a god but not God
for he is flawed.
I applaud this
for it does remind us
of the similarity between
gods and mortals

Both rather like the other
to the extent that
they falter at the same torment
although we think they do not.

gods can lose their immortality
just as mortals can become gods

Sunrise at Newgrange
and
Sunset at Stonehenge.

Value those precious
hours of light
before it is devoured
by the devious night.

The dense darkness
can sense your fears
and hear your tears

Soon to devour
your sour flesh
Leaving a fresh
carcass in the darkness

And where is my
Great Dark Hope?
Gone to get the rope
Or
hiding in the shadows
waiting
baiting her time
Until we are at our weakest

The last thing we will see
are the Darkest Eyes
then hope no more
As our door is closed
and locked

This is the Winter Solstice
This bitter hiss
Death's long and last kiss

Stalked the streets of the fair city.
Walked among strangers, talking of change.
Gritty pavement beneath my feet.

Watched around me
at my supposed kith and kin
Saw them with sin
and observed them
as they curved around the streets.

At a shop window,
A little boy stares at the chocolate
In a state of elated joy
But in a limbo, unsure how to profit.

A woman strolls pass a fruit stall.
She sees oranges and clenches her fists
Drenched in the awful memory
Of a fruity misery

An activist tries to preaches
But no one is listening to her speech
An analyst who worries about everything
Scared of being nothing

Sitting at the steps of the church
A boy hides from the dull march of people
Feels a surge inside but words caught at Adam’s apple
So he lets the ink bleed onto a page instead

Outside a run down theatre the actor stood.
His detractors made their presence felt
making him uncertain in his ways,
pushing his very essence into the dark of ether.

Coffee shop was full
but the man stood out
Coffee dripping from his mouth
The blinding glint form his watch,
a lofty story to tell no doubt.

Two souls turned a corner and became one
neither were mourners of their old lives
Two heads on one dead body
Intricacy of the mind and soul
a flase sense of intimacy

And the ghosts joined us on streets
They did not boast of their deaths
At most, they were simple engrossed
with everything from pillar to post

Dragon was there too, wanting a battle
talons rip through rag and bones.
His fire arched upwards
and then down and scorched stones

Chaos raised its heineous face
and embraced the madness
strong winds ravaged the city
blasted every building down

Among the damge I saw them.
Them and more.
A robin flying by,
Mel with her dark eyes,
the river dried up and
four moons impossibly raised.

And everything rained down and destroyed me.


I awoke
but choose to keep my eyes closed.
Wanting to drift in the darkness,
a temporary bliss.
But then the memory surfaced
and I opened my eyes.

I stood on a bridge,
the city to either side of me
and the river running underneath.
No fires, no ghosts.

All seemed restored, I sighed a sigh of releif.
A smidge of hope flowed into me.
From where I stood,
I began to understand it all.

Out, out in the distance
I scarcely saw a man standing on the river
like it was land and not water
My eyes squinted to make him out
but all I could see was an outstreched hand.

He had been observing me
and now he was calling me.
and I would leave this pretty, gritty city
and all its comittees for him.

I would.

But I still had unresolved business.
Story to be told and demons to be slayed
Then I would be a free man.
But untill then I won't be a runaway.
Cause I'll stay as long as it takes.

And with that I adjourned
this session and did returned.
Taking my chances with the city.

Wreaths of mist swirled up into the cold air
As I looked at my grave in despair.
It was in disrepair and could not be saved.

Am I such a depraved knave that
I was waived my rights for a better place of interment?
I can not get over the convalesce
that this will be my permanent address.

I played the saint.
A saint I'm ain't.
No one heard my plaints.
But I heard your complaints.
Gave you tainted words.

No wonder I am where I am.

Wreaths of mist swirled up into the cold air
as I said my prayers.
A foursquare refusal to yield
to this grave, to this field.

To life and all it's strife.
To death and it's last breath.

I blocked my ears to the whispers
and it did stop the fate spinners.

Leaving destiny
at my mercy.

Four moons rose tonight.
Each one bad.
A ****** tetrad.

I looked for stars
But Mars look alikes
blocked my search.

And as I watch on,
it dawned on me.
This life, is null and void.
Soon to be destroy,
just look at the four moons.

A prophecy foretold.
Hypocrisy withold.

Fate and Death entwined.
Mankind's breaths abates.

Slowly but surely.
Prematurely.

Then nothing.

But I remember,
ex nihilo nihil fit

Not all prophecy,
are destined to come true.
So I questioned everything.
Knowing that nothing can come from nothing.

Midnight and I'm morose
And silent when
those poignant thoughts arose
from pungent wine
while I dine in a plaintive manner
alone.

Captivated by the melancholy
blood comforting
my forlorn jealousy
Captured by a sorrowful melody
languishing somber times past
regretting for not forgetting  

This pensive mood is no good
devours my woeful soul like food
leaving a doleful restlessness

Oh but what can cure heavy heartednesss?
or cure a sick at heart?

Nothing
(hence the dysphoria)

Pure of broken heart
so dishearten,
I grieve alone

And start to atone,
for heart of flesh
now turned to stone
is no longer fresh.

Up early in the morning
Last night's sleep had no mourning
Mutely gathering his thoughts
Mind astutely wrought

A spot of fishing by the river
Shall calm this mental shiver
Quick was he to the bait
For he saw no reason to wait
But slow was he in leaving
Leaving breadcrumbs for perceiving
Something they'll be able to clutch
The toast was a nice touch

So he went high on his rock
Where nothing stops but the clock
The sunlight strippled the trees
The water rippled at ease
Creating a tranquil ambiance
And he was happy, despite the atmosphere of transcience

And while he enjoyed his solitude
It did coaxed the rise of lassitude
That had an unfortunate longevity
Highlighting elation's brevity

So he jumped - fast - past the rock without violence
Plunging into the cold water in silence
The river washing his body and morality away.
Bring an ephemeral end to this mortality play.
But leaving on that rock, his toast
like footprints of a ghost

Some people know when it's time to breathe their final breath
Thoughts loose and you loathe losing
So shew no end, but Death -
And die the shortest choosing

How Strange.
You long for change,
but you are loath to redo.
And thus, loathe yourself.
And this loads on you,
on your coarse course.

Preventing the Metamorphose,
and forces you
into your torturous fortress.
A cocoon,
that protects against monsoons
but not the typhoon raging inside,
waking Typhon,
and blowing out
Prometheus's fire.

Oh how Oedipus Wrecks
the tedious good
until spiritless.
But never hopeless

Pandora's box is open
but Sparta's soldiers
will close it and guide you
from Tartarus to Olympus
and change, you will.

Shed your mortal grossness
for immortal happiness.
No common sense
that this recklessness
has consequences

When you do realize
What the Fates's foretold
it will be too late.

You can't separate
the actor from the character
they're not mutually exclusive
but brutally intrusive.

We put a little bit of ourselves
into the roles that we act
extracts of our souls
dripping out
slowly bleeding our hearts dry
from acting out our parts

Pouring everything
into faux characters
to engage with our rage
while onstage
unknowingly
constructing our own cage

We think no-one can see
the lies we tell
when we wear our masks
but our eyes betray us
with irises on fire
arises our desire
from the words we yell

Burning eyes behind stone masks
that shows them our hell

These days,
I find myself searching
for gentle streams
that once flowed in my dreams
but have since dried up.
The reservoir empty of freshness.

Doesn't stop me walking
along the dead riverbeds
and listing to the water.
Can't be much farther
til I find a new source.
I don't want
to force anything
but merely seek the return of life

Maybe Robin will return
to me
and we can continue our chats
by the banks of the river.
I was never a diver
but a giver,
which I suppose
is the same.
Plunging myself into something
and giving it all I got.

Never truly
an altruistic act
as I secretly and selfishly
wanted to be noticed.
Even the acoustic comments
would suffice.
Is that wrong?
Or
Are we all rolling the same dice?
it's nice to receive praise
but if you're raised
to only want that
then maybe that's not healthy
I suppose
we should be wealthy
in the acknowledgment
of the ones that truly care
than to the
faint praise of strangers

That's where the danger lies
picking the lather.
Better to climb the ladder
one step at a time
in company
than great leaps alone.

But I digest.
I've stumbled off the path
with this talk of ladders.
Lost in myself
once again.
That's the cost of being a wanderer
Hard to navigate
through a sea of trees,
all ivy covered.
Who knows what
lively monsters have hovered
where I stood.
How many times have I been
hoodwinked in thinking
I'm alone?
Each blink of an eye
and I'm sure they run by me
lurking away
hidden from sight

They can stay there
for all I care.
Tonight isn't about
looking for a fight
but a river.

Impossible
to think straight without it.
It was my anchor
held me down
and           stopped            me
flowing away in a stream
of consciousness
lost forever
in
meaninglessness

Oh River, why have you dried up?
Why have you died?
I need you now
but
you are not here
to wash my tears away,
to clean me of doubt
or take away my fears.
I miss your fresh
cleansing waters
often felt on flesh.

Water was the elixir
to heal.
And to peal skin,
reveal my real sin,
so I may feel.
But
This elicited elixir
is no more.
A closed door
so we remain poor

Oh River, why have you left me?

Detox yourself of impurities.
Box away those
pretty poisons polluting your soul.
Matcha tea will only help so much.
Matching the gentle touch
once felt
but have since melted away.
Got to deal with the cards
that have been dealt today
But what if,
I am less than an ace?
What if,
I am dead?
Then I am nothing.
Or
is that just
the toxic thoughts talking?
It's hard to tell these days.

even if these thoughts
are Compromised,
does it matter?
they feel real
just like they could
win the War
and change everything
as we know it

The Head of Radio
has died.
Video Queen
has taken over
the Transmissions
but our brainwaves
remain saved
for now

The Truth,
persevered in tar
far from the nearest star
dormant for centuries
until
it's revived with
the latest specific scientific
invention
intent
on saving the world

The Truth
it swirled and twirled inside
you hurled at the thought
the Compromised thought,
that you're alone

patrol the outskirts
of your mind
Not knowing what you'll find
but making sure all is checked
before you go for Checkmate
But it's too late
This game has gone on too long
and it has become a Stalemate

neither win nor lose
but Ego is bruise
causing the compromising
thoughts to be born
begot upon itself

Crossroads that crisscross my mind
they say, "find the right way"
but I'm stuck where they left me.
Without a notion of
North, South, East or West.
No compass
to tell me which way best.
I want to go in every direction,
wander into new wonders,
but that's not allowed.
I want to shout out loud
for someone to set me straight,
save me from choice and regret,
but I'd only strain my voice
and remain at the crossroads.
I must be in Purgatory.
So I wonder
which way to Heaven
and which way to Hell.
Not that it would matter.
As either
must be better than this limbo.
This nothingness.
It's worthless.
Meaningless,
until I take that first step.
Dust of the cobwebs.
Feel a gust of wind,
ebb and flow.
And begin.

Relationship are rough,
sailin’ the ever changin’ tides of emotion.
They don’t come ‘bout easy,
they require a lot of hard work!
Some days be jolly!
But sometime things don’t go yer way.
Some days there’s a change in the wind,
a change in the current,
that goes against the riggins’ o’ yer ship
an’ ye struggle,
but that doesn’t mean yer ship is sinkin’!
Don’t walk the plank now,
just ‘cause the imminent Kraken
of breakup and doubt
is in hot pursuit o’ yer vessel!
Like Dido,
ye won’t be goin’ down with this ship,
there’ll be no white flag!
Are ye really going to let some bombastic baboons pillage yer lass?
No yer not!
Yer goin’ to drop yer anchor
an' battle for that nigh uncatchable ship.
But if ye be captured,
a faith worse than Davy Jones' Locker,
an' they say ‘walk the plank’
then you’ll walk that plank,
but ye’ll cross the seven seas to meet them again!
Storms they pass,
with lil' damage,
if ye just brace and stick it out
'Cos for the right ship,
ye do anythin'

I didn't like that you were in my dream
I didn't care for the deeper meaning
Just for the proper morning
Stop this spinning world
from turning now
For what's it worth,
Earth is not a bumper car
Bumping into cheaper stars

But in dreamland
it's not that simple,
There's no plan
and the ample of people
can be quite bland
sitting in the temple
listening to the Papal's teaching
of the gospel
and like a bell ringing
I saw the ripple
of misunderstanding
spread through the crowd
All proud of their ways
All vowed never to sway

A lot of ****** up things happen in dreams.
Like that bus crash with the injured kids
eyelids half opened in pain
looking for help
but we kept on walking
despite all our preaching

I didn't like that you were there
to share that moment
I feared your judgement
too tired for an argument
I hated that a fragment of you
was buried in me
that laid dormant until now

My dream is my house
method within the madness
organised mess
although you gleam like gold
you're nothing but a mouse
hiding in my place
not scared to show your face
from time to time
But my house doesn't have a phone
to call pest control
so alone I patrol with a pistol
and hope I get lucky

When I wake up
I feel the ache of reality
come crashing down
a carefree burning
and suddenly
I'm mourning for last night

Just for a split-second
I wish I was dreaming again
because at least there
I know what I feel
Isn't real