Inspired by; Jennifer Lilliston Walker

I take a look outside.. into emptiness... I found it somehow the same!  Endless and vacant, like the echo of my name; a memory perhaps, fading into flame; unlike these everlasting-monuments of sorrow; that may by time last, just as long as would last tomorrow, they too... But there's nothing to hold within.
You can see right through the cracked windows into my soul... Should you take a look.
I admit; my life isn't exactly what I would call an open book... And i admit; nothing is the same, after all that you took... Its all the same, yet, and regardless!
Regardless the charades, and all... Regardless; all that might once have been.
Here, the terrain is rigid and uneventful...Try piercing through, instead, of slicing my skin, or pealing it off!
Try.. go ahead! You wont die... At least; I take my time.
I am interested, of course, in what's beneath.
These casual chords and ravaging teeth. I want to... See you naked; so here i am, half the man i used to be; before your gentle, weary eyes...
I have no interest in theatrics and special effects; for i can see the blood on your hands; and on mine albeit the same... Regardless the deaths... The pains... The elegies... The memories... Regardless the instantaneous corpses and dead beat, put aside the numbness of some sort, that I sense... I feel; at least to a point; a few aspects of affection often taken for granted, would pay off too.
I've always had one mask on... Maybe its time I took it off!

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2010

It is a matter of time only,
until the wind arises,
and relentlessly, the moments fall asleep.

These lonely hours pass by slowly,
bestow me with radiant fear,
and far more courageously... i weep!

The music shows me my place,
As weary as I am, drifting into space.

The lighten candles have thinned the air.
visions of my Eden come to me
slightly vague, out of vogue, yet fare...
Dancing among the leaves of autumn,
in my head, the spectrum...
Swaying to the sounds of time,
To a memory;
that is mother to all wisdom...
To the scents of freedom,
and to the plunders of prime!

O, how folly my ventures were...
Through the valleys of death.
O, how many passed winters there...
That have denied me mine own breath!

Good night, and good riddance...
May I please sleep!
Shalt ye give me leave now,
to my downwards so steep?!

A.r. Bazian

O, but the gracious pardons
do give leave for weary sin...
Or do make way for lovers departed,
to solely bare the weight within?!

Strangely thought one man can face a crisis,
but one man does all he can...
Until his foolishness arises;
surely you'd think, one would've had a plan!
O, how folly of me and of my dream...
As it slowly demises!

Beloved oblivion!

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2010

As i cross the landscapes,
gray of time and pain...
The same old scenario;
the same old rain!

Caress the violets and...
Slowly whither away;
nothing unusual, nothing's changed,
a feeling mutual, visions deranged,
and all away... fall away

Pardon my senses,
pardon my weight,
do pardon me...
And my departure...
For I'm running late

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2010

Winter... Winter.. Winter...
O' winter's at the door.
Ye drunk, ol' drunken silly fool,
watch the slippery floor...

Winter...winter; O' good ol' friend....
winter now is here,
winter without an end!
Winter to me is dear!
Winter is my friend!
Ye drunk, ol' drunken silly fool,
Winter is our friend...
Remember where yer logs are be...
for when chaps and wound shall mend!

Winter, Winter, Winter
he'll be come and gone...
Ye drunk, ol' drunken silly fool,
ye sat and wrote a song...

Winter, Winter, good ol' chap
stubborn tending tears;
what where the days of merry clap
winter, then all clears!

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2010

Maybe I've taken more time, than would you
to ponder and consider...
And maybe not, but perhaps I do,
to learn the probable outcomes,
of times, through and through.

There is a sacred Geometry to fortune,
a forbidden set of plans!
Words and worlds put in tune,
and miracles put in clans!

For I stand parallel to the world, where I'd exist...
A formula of division, and slanderous gifts.

Exploring as i may,
every possibility...
Every dance...
Burning, as i sway,
Every paper to work,
every glance to a stay...
Every memory, every stance...
Every blazing day!

Every lingering minute, I'm carved in stone.
Every spoken thought, is a glimpse unbourn,
into another moment; a candle blown!
every moment; there,
I rest in bed...
Brings upon a universe,
that is here once, then is shed...
Withered like tears, that once they're gone,
this word I have left, is all there is... In stone!

All within the very dialectics of a chance,
this riddle it seems, given... And every dream, a trance!

Sweetest dreams, O' darling you...
for it seems, the mourning has come,
as words are silent, and kept a-queue!
Gentle replicas of our thoughts,
humble as this dew,
brings the world a smaller place,
and brings my words to you!

The pieces that arrange together
are strange to our dialogues, dear...
And surely, they are few!

A.r. Bazian