I've just risen from my coffin,
Do you come here often?
can I buy you a drink?
Where you from?
Fort Lee,
Yes I know the Place,
Where Christy met his fate,
Why did he make us wait?
Oh ! it was all, just a big mistake,


Now do you want that drink?
What that's you say?
You don't date Vampires or poets,
no rhyme or reason,
You don't want anyone ******* your blood,
and then crying about it,
I see, I get your point.

You are ****,
your look is catchy,
Thanks for the chat,
the dawn is breaking soon,
I've grown lonesome,
and tiresome
This immortality,
has too much remorse.

Firewalker

Standing under the weeping sky,
Molested by the blowing breeze.
How much time must pass before the rain,
Freezes the tears flowing down my cheeks?

Each time I draw breath,
The shattered glass pierces my lungs.
This intriguing world,
Grows ever more distant

I can never say good bye to you.
Yet you never gave me the choice to.
Cut me off and erased me.
I cling on now painfully.

How much must I scream,
For my cries to pierce,
The veil of your indifferent silence?
These cries have no aim or hope.

A glimpse.
An exquisite glance at your beautiful smile.
Why won't you grace me with the divine melody,
Of your voice?

Back then I remember,
The nights I spent in the comfort of your company,
Till you decided to leave me alone,
What did I do so terribly wrong?

At times I confess,
The follies that are part of me,
The bane of being human,
Force me to find recluse in solitude,
Away from the squabbles of mortal men,
Who fight for things immaterial,
Spurning things that they should endevour to have.
Alas, it shames me not,
That solitude at times,
Rejuvenates some hidden part of myself,
A resevoir refilled, replenished.
I spend my time alone,
Listening to the solitary wind,
Or to the beats of some bard’s song,
Uncovering meaning in both.
But I must admit there are times,
When I watch lovers entwined in a casual embrace,
Or a child’s loving gaze at his parent,
And realization strikes me.
Although I like being alone at times,
The wine of loneliness bitters my withered soul.

I pressed my ear to the ***** of the
silence before dawn.This is the hour
when birds wake up, contemplating
on what to sing. The sky's smudged
in dispersing clouds. Priests are
washing up for the morning prayer.
Tots plead to sleep more. Here I find
the blessed light that trudged past
aeons and aether, now scattering
past the screen of mists, illuminating
your face, blooming over lotus lakes.
You were up, weeping with the winds
wheezing through the streets all night.
No bells, no flowers, no incense
rosaries or hymnals, this my chapel
is the other shrine in this home.
Now I kneel hearing the throb of love.
One, nameless, the continuum that
here I call myself and there, you.