Death come marching in March.
The darkest night with full moon above.
With gloved hands, Death purloins my loved ones.
Takes their coins so they may join the soigne march.

I hear the dull sound of feet over quiet whispers.
Sensing dread before I see the sight.
Death conducting the dead, while abducting new souls.
The march threads away through the night.

Death is a relentless one. The dark menace in an endless pursuit
It becomes clearer as the march gets nearer.
Death hopes to pull up my grass roots
An rope my untethered spirit, whether I consent or not.

Death will not yield to anyone, and I am no exception.
My fate has been sealed. A deadline one can not be late for.
If my body is stubborn, and won't let me give in.
Death will twinge me until I am unhinged.

Each year, Death comes in March
Each year, I watch Death march away.
Each year, Death gets closer.
This year, I will go marching in March.

The same old, same old
A story retold
with different settings each time
but ultimately identical
each story indistinguishable
so I'm skeptical
when you say this time will be different
because each time it's the same crime
anger and bitterness entwined
making a swine of you
and I'm pass the point of wanting to rewind
this story does not have a linear start to finish
But rather a never never ending circle
a pattern stuck on repeat
recycling itself on to its circular life
the external of the circle may change but the internal is still the same infernal circle.
immortal in its own way.
yesterday's sad melody,
with new ornamentation
but same motif throughout.
Ergo,
the same sorrow that swallows me up so I may wallow in this hollow feeling,
feasting like a beast on the self pity
that's festering away in the ruins of my broken mind like an unnatural disaster.
and I don't want a plaster to fix it
cause as soon as I put it on it'd only be ripped off again.
Useless and pointless against the repetition of unending pain
the same old, same old

I was suprised to see Robin
appear at the onset of dawn.
Looked on at my withdrawn self,
tucked on my shelf,
whereupon I return his look.

With his wings, he made a gesture
pointing out, out and beyond to
fields in a vesture of green.
Never I had I seen such pastal pastures,
nor known them to be so near.

Robin started to sing
of spontaneous adventure,
away from my miscellaneous thoughts.
Extraneous in nature for they did discouraged
this possible venture.

In an act of defiance,
I went to move, and felt a strain
tightening around my brain.
Denying the laws of science,
the frightening shackels restraining me
and my plumed heart from taking flight.

I struggled against the chain, I wiggled until bruised
and blood and sweat covered my skin.
The sticky heat of desperation consumes me,
wishing someone smuggled the key in
and remove these chaotic chains.

"I can't move," I cried to Robin,
expecting him to disapprove.
"I'm not like you. I can't just go and do what I want,
it doesn't work like that."

Even though I wanted to go.
My soul longs for it, to be like  the Robin
where its only goal is to go
faraway like a bird of prey, flying high
complying to no one, just like Maslow wanted.
The reclamation of self-realization.

Robin did not reply.
Robin did not leave.
Nor did he grieve for me.
He simply waited.

This wasn't a rue.
He was glued to me and thus
Proving the legends true; of how
he got the mark of Christ's blood upon himself.

For he waited in hope
'til the day when I can cleave the chains
and he'll supply the rope
and reeve the opening of my escape.

But that day is not today.

Today's untimely end neared
with the threat of an upset sunset,
warning Robin that he must retreat
to avoid being a prisioner of the dark.

Yet, before he left, he nodded,
as if tell me not to fret.
For he will be back at sunrise
His wise eyes conformed
him to be sans falseness.

And I prayed to empty skies that I was right.

From my spot, I watch Robin's flight,
as night fell with gravity, pushing the sun down
and for a split second it turned to a green jewel.
I smiled like fool at Joule's "last glimpse"
feeling the chains, ever so slightly, loosen.

The sound of feet is isolated in the tunnel.
Echoes of the slow steps of many fill the narrow space.
We march in silence.
Alone among the many.
We do this odd ambitious walk twice daily.
Twice daily this space is filled with the sound of the travelers and the workers.
And what about the times that betwixt the twice daily commute?
An ambiance like no other.
A roaring silence.
For those who have march here
They leave behind an echo,
an imprint of sort.
More ghostly than any ghost.
Haunting these tunnels with their essence
When the sound of feet is not present.

And I know it is true - my soul is arriving
Wanting to take hold of this human frame
Shake loose those dark doubts in hiding
That grants the pain that comes with looming shame

Dare I ask - Is this me now taking control
Of the internal workings from being led astray?
Or maybe I am just giving in to the expected role
Accepting the external forces at play.

When my soul arrives then I shall begin again
Born anew sans sin so to be ready
Obtain contentment and maintain
Then it may grow and bloom steady

But I was wrong – my soul is not arriving. It is here.
Yet nothing changes. My dark doubts do not disappear.

I walked out into a blissful dawn
Drawn to the emerging hues of hope
Dispelling over the hills
Dark streaks of orange layered with bright yellow.
Spilling towards me.
I spied Robin
flying low beneath the suns rays
to greet me as promised.
Now that the shackles are gone
Together we may go

We watched the sun rise that morning
Knowing that, anything, was possible.

Il y a trop de pièges dans l'esprit.
Sans trêve, mes rêves tombent souvent
et crient comme ils brisent
comme anges lorsqu'ils tombent

La langue me démange
ce que bruit me dérange.
Mais personne ne me écoute

Thought I must be in a dream.
when you sang me the sweetest music.
It was was then that i fell in love.
When you took me to your home,
Signing about hope.
For once, I wasn't occupied by sorrow.

Lets listen to more of your music.
While we rest in your home.
Together fighting of sorrow.  
Only focusing on our hopes.
Thinking of our summer love.
And talking about our dreams.

See I've been working on a high hope.
That maybe we have a shot for more than love.
So Lets write some music.
That will stop us dwelling on sorrow.
We'll sing a song about our wildest dreams.
And maybe this will be our home.

We can do what we like in our home.
Wasn't that our biggest hope?
Wasn't that our brightest dream?
Can't you see it, my love?
A place without sorrow.
Where we can play our music.

There is nothing stronger than our love.
And we won't give into sorrow.
For as long as we are together, we dream.
Waiting for the baby to join this happy home.
We write new joyous music.
And it is a reality, our biggest hope

But sometimes you lose the fight against sorrow.
And nothing is like what was in your dream.
It did nothing having hope.
Disappointment moved into our home.
I never thought it would end like this, my love.

So now sorrow takes your place in this home.
There is no more hope, i have no more dreams.
Because you see my love is gone, and now I write only the saddest of music.

I feel like I am on a train
Watching life speed past me
I only get a glimpsed of the view
Before it is replace with another

I pass busy cities and quiet country sides
These pretty images guide me
And provide me with distractions
A bona fide offer to occupy my mind

Then the train would go through a tunnel
And I would be surround by darkness
Out the window, I am faced with my reflection
A grim ghost, staring into my soul

Head filled with the meaningless
That when I have nothing to distract myself
I am forced to dwell on my thoughts
All my misery pushed away returns

Attracted like moths to the light of my reflection.
They flitter about, rapidly gnawing my clothes and skin.
Who knew misery had such a voracity.
My reflection only looks on with apathy.

Thankfully, this encounter is only brief.
And the train comes out of the tunnel
The sudden light banishes my reflection
And I can continue to look out at the view

Watch as I speed passed it
Without thought nor worry
For the moths have scurry away
Leaving me in peace, for today

Although this train is on a straight line
It feels like it is going in circles
Darkness seekers must be the conductor of this train
As it won’t be long till I return to the tunnel

I regret that the door was closed
To look outside the door must be open

Open it I did and I hear nothing
But I saw him among everything

The Robin was robbed of his life
By the globin that is Death

A creature of the sky
Now lays on the ground

I wish for him to be alive. For it to be a lie
But I know in sooth, this is the harsh truth

I closed the door and returned
Vowing to never leave

Don't let me down
Let me keep this crown
Just for a little while
It does make me smile

And with you beside me
I have never felt so free
Then I do now
So lets make a vow
Hand in hand
Promise to never disband

That is all I ask
Such a simple task
I don't want to be needy
Or seem greedy

I don't mean to cause a fuss
All I need is us
So love, lets fly
High in the sky

Please, don't let me down
I would surely frown
And turn blue
Missing you.

And your fingers in mine
A touch devine.
A touch I adore.
A touch no more.

I couldn't find peace so I went out into the rain,
To find a way to stop the pain.
Let my brain unravel at the seems.
Flow away with the drops down the stream.
Little boat in the rain.
Float away, float away.
Sailing from me while I stay anchored with empty thoughts.
At peace -  but vacant.

You give out engery you don't receive
They forget suns need love too
Take your presence as a certainty
While your essence, your sanity
Shrinks, blinks become longer
Till lids close and you sleep
Tiring keeping us warm.
Didn't realize the harm it was causing
Don't need happiness to give it
Brighten my dark solstice more than once
I wish my gratitude was enough
I wish I could give you all the love you deserve for serving us all these years
I hate seeing the tears that simple thank yous could prevent
There's a slight dim to your light these days.
Faded rays is all that is left of your legacy.
And I see now, this is more than me.
You just want to be free.
Who am I to say you're wrong?
So sleep, thankless Sun.
I'll miss you around
And the world will just have to adjust

You won't catch me – while running through the rye
I've got nothing to lose - only everything to gain

Maybe I'll end up in miles of traffic waiting for the lights to turn
Like a yellow ladybird, waiting for the red light so to leave
The daily grunt and anxiety of simply going from A to B
My stomach churning at the thought of such a terrific possibility

Alternatively, away from the city, there's the sea.
I do always hold I was a French sailor in a past live.
Even though I've never been to the Côte d'Azur
I'm sure I could find a second home there

But I’ve never doubted the fact I do like my hometown
Could I really sway away from Bray?
I’ve never been down when walking along stony beach
Or over the Dargle at night, swans floating about without care

Learning is synonymous with Leaving
If I am to strive in this life maybe I need a push
To drive myself from my comforts
And feel that rush upon discovery one’s worth
In living than mere surviving.

Although I must admit, this poem is full of ****
These ramblings of single stream of thought
Not dreams per say as I am aware that
They do tear at the seam and unravel quite brilliantly.

No, this is not my dreams and hopes
Or some sad reality check
About how tempting the rope can be
Or what can be done before one is dead

No, these words are quite frankly, just words
They represent my world at this present time
What one can find on my mind
Nothing more, nothing less

There is danger that tomorrow
It could all change
Stranger still, it could all remain the same.

Still with all this said ---

You won't catch me - while running through the rye
I've got nothing to lose - only everything to gain

It's hard to know which way the wind is going to blow
And whether I will blow with or against it
Weather is temperamental
It has its own mentality - its own sovereignty.
And in a sense, innately sentimental.
How spring brings life - winter takes it.
Season change with little reason
Not strange in the grand scheme of things. Does it really matter how green the ground is?
How blue the skyline?
Does it harm us if it's not warm enough? What's enough?

I don't know which way the wind is going to blow.
But blow it will and maybe this time I'll  blow with it.

He stopped sleeping one night, alone
Keeping his eyes awake, watch
As he lies vacantly, treading
Through tough thoughts, though
Knowing less by knowing, more
Memories fleeting by, now
He begins to itch, finally
Fingers twitching like moth's wings, fast
Scratching at sin scar skin, alone
Until he sleeps forever, more?

Mourn the Moon in the morning
for he had lost his night shift.
Let it be a warning
for the Sun shall rise at night.
Bright blinding darkness descend
on us, threatening to swallowing us
And every single star there is.

They'll be no wars,
just a simple surrender as
sunshine soldiers surround our souls
telling us our new roles.

What we thought we were,
we are not.
What we thought we weren't,
we are.
And if they say it,
it must be true

We act the polar opposite of ourselves
because of some solar energy,
some hot headed, gassed filled entity
has made us question our identities.

Is it our thoughts,
or actions,
that define us?
Our we confine to one,
or is the two combine?

I'm inclined to say:
I don't know.
I'm only learning how operate
in this world.

So many questions with no answers.
Just an obsession to understands
the oppression against us.

Doing so will hep us understand ourselves, right?

So send in the Sun,
mourn the Moon ,
and figure out the chaos born.
For soon it will be done with us.

All I see are these eyes.
These dark, dark eyes,
floating on a sea of darkness - not connect to a body.

Just there - up close to me.
Pressing against my eyes.
I felt like the eyes had pushed into my own eyes.
Peaked in to my very soul
Breaking my weak spine and mind.

I want to scream
Pray for this to be a dream
But fear has a funny way
Of stopping you doing what you want.

So I do nothing.
And life goes on.

*Oh, but those eyes.
They're in my brain.

They're here to stay.

He moves in silence
Shows white face
hides bare black hands behind back
holding back violence

voluminous moon passes over
illuminous satellite comes closer
and his face blurs
Lunacy brings out fears

Reveals black hands
Black likes guns
that he commands, ready to attack
and there is no where to run.

The sea grows tired
of being at the coastline.
Gives up a little freedom and
flows inland. Silent as a ghost.

The sea sails slowly into the forest.
Blue lines entwined with green.
Snakes around trees and this
act ensures that intimacy is to ensue.

Call these blue lines the river.
A giver of life that makes you quiver
as you watch it deliver vital water
to all, as it sprawls deeper into the forest.

Dearest forest makes a promise
to look out for the cherished river.
And river promises to nourish and flourish
the flawless flora within the modest forest.

So these hues blend and mend each other.
Becoming something new in the process.
While still retaining their colours.
And this makes me smile in wonder
at what has been compiled in such simple style.

I only hope it will last for awhile.

This travel refreshes the eyes
Even if it is the same view
Day in and night out
Doesn't take away its beauty

A journey marked by swans
That runs seaside
then turns riverside
and adjourns right side
See, it's a journey burned behind my eyes

It is between the swans that I can think
And not think
This is my safe house and I'm a habitual criminal
Stowing away in this liminal place
Taking a rest from being arrested
for too much stress

I will never tire of these travels
Each sunrise and full moon
Falling that little bit more in love
Pupils dilating as the eyes refresh

I will hear the Swan's song soon.
Pale, as the moon shines.
A fading shade and then gone.

My feathers will become fossils.
My bones will become relics.
My memory will become heirlooms to be pass down.

What more could I desire to leave behind?
When this fire goes out, do not doubt.
The ashes shall preserve my bittersweet leftovers

Standing as a haunting reminder to all
More ghostly than any ghost
That I shall survive for as long as there are those who remember

And that is it.

Mystery are the prongs of jealousy
When struck rings and sings like a song.
Mystery still is why such innate sea of emotions
Overcomes me in such a fashion.
What does this say about me?

The prongs rings out -
I doubt -
I've ever felt this wrong before.
The prongs rings out -
I know -
Singing of everything I want
But will never had

I cannot change the song
Or tune these prongs
To another key
As the ringing is too strong

And it's been too long
Since I've heard sweet silence
All I have is neat violence
In the form of a forlorn song.

Everyday I go the same way
I don't sway far from the footpath
Cause I'm afraid to be led astray
I don't need to do the maths
to know I'm not a psychopath in this thinking
but I do have an inkling
that maybe I am sociopath
because I go the same way everyday
just to stay sane.
It's hard to explain
this disdain for anything different
to the stinking mundane that is my life.
I desperately try to sustain it by going out of my way to contain and control everything to obtain order.
So there is nothing new
Everything here the same.
like some sort of lame game
that's to blame because
I'm ashamed to say
that I'm addicted to it.
A convict in my own brain
Beginning ****** battles
Bish! Bash! Bosh!
Trying to be evicted
cause I'm conflicted
I resent being restricted
but I'm twisted
and wouldn't know
what to do if I got out
it's not just mere
bout with self doubt
about being scared
from swaying from the footpaths
No it's not being scared
it's about disappointment
I'm too acquainted
with my own containment
Of the same
that if I was to compare
my way to another
I'd be full of despair
I'm not prepared
to juxtapose anything
But I suppose that's normal
it's not insane thinking.
This inkling I've had is humane,
human nature.
so I proposed that
the only way to change
and end my affliction
is to expose myself to the abnormal
without being so formal.
The simple act stepping outside out of my comfort zone
away from the dull drone
is the start
with a little effort
I can look at life
through my rose-tinted glasses
La vie en rose!
engross with all things new
everything that is composed
of this Earth,
is now worth so much to me
I'm no longer afraid to compare
I loudly and proudly proclaim
that I do not take the same way
everyday
sometimes I sway from the mundane
cause I've ordained my self as a free man.
brand new me, who's not scared to see or be or even peruse the new.
This pure philosophy is the cure and is now imbued in my soul.
So on that overdue cue,
I bid you adieu

The sea is painted by the clouds above.
As they gently drift across the sky.
Changing shades - allowing just the right amount of light
To reach the water's surface like it's a canvas.
Creating something beautiful for just a moment.
Then something even more beautiful in the next.

A painting that is still being painted
Shows no signs in ending.
As it paints a story.
From dark and stormy blues - to calm orange sunsets.
Unbiased in it's shading - reveals love at its purest.

And that is something I can admire.
For it is something I require - desire.
But I am mired by the past.
Can not pass it.
I guess my luck's expired.

I like to forget this for awhile.
So I look out and smile.
At the sea being painted by the clouds above.
Knowing I will never know this love.

Can you see me, Moon?
or am I too far?
are the stars too bright
to see me tonight?

Maybe if I get higher
or burn some fire?
Maybe if I sing a tune,
you will hear me to see me, Moon?

I can see you so clearly
so perfect, so still, barely trying
I've always seen you , Moon, but you haven't seen me
I'd like to believe you do and followed me during the night.

Every late night journey
all those lonely hours in my room
Watching me, learning from me, devouring me
If I can see you, you can see me

You orbit my everyday life
but I must admit
it feels the other way around
it is I who orbits you, I surround you.

I can see a face but no eyes
blind to my devotion, my worship
luminous clock that semi-brightens the night
unearthly high, up on a pedestal

Moonlight flood my room
My love above hovers over me
Floating in this half light
Gloating at my sad plight

But even with this said
I can not help but still ask;
"Can you see me, Moon?"
Knowing you won't anwser me soon.

Never see me forever

Ekpsycho
Each time I see you I lose my breath
Even just thinking of you brings me close to death  
Eventually maybe you too will soon swoon 
Even though I only met you at the last full moon
Ekpsycho
Especially impossible to say without a pause
Evokes a reason and cause
Evolves into something strong, something real
Expressing that indescribable feeling
Ekpsycho
Erupts from within
Emptying your mind, removing sin
Echoes my true intentions
Explaining my emotions  
Enduring it till the end
Ensuring to help the mend
Ekpsycho
Elusive in pictures
Effectively hard to capture
Envisioning that state of elate rapture
Ekpsycho
Everytime I see you
Even if you don't know
Ekpsycho

T'as raison,
Sur les saisons.
Le printemps est à l'extérieur.
Mais l'automne est dans mon coeur.

Brighter horizons -
that I did ever see.
An act of treason,
to dispell rainy thoughts.
And brought forth -
a change of season.

The řåïñ is gone
and sweet songs -
surround my surroundings  
But for how long -
till it starts raining again?
And for how long -
will it remain - I cannot say