"I am your silence, your violence, and your every dream.
That in this drawing hour, it would seem, I am your failing scream, echoed far beyond the concrete pace that be-stills your thought... Where it would seem, I am -in fact, your dream!
Where we may over the world rain like light poles imploring, in forms of nothingness, the world to dust... While so vividly blooming onto the infinite strokes of the universe... Our every verse, ever so sublime!"

Sep 30, 2013

"Your absence takes over, and my silence... My violence, and your pacing dream! The world spins still unto the hollow vaults of your bedded crusts, and you still splendour for on your wine! The day passes ever still; ever so bleak, stale, and fine!"

Oct 7th 2013

"In this -the universe, abstract silence, that is our vengeance, wrath, and kindness... We abstain.. The pacing stops, where the ends of the world collide!
In you, I confide."

Mar 5th, 2014

"I am your endless expanse; the boundless void of rampage and timeless tune... Wagner's immortal rage... Bach's rebellion... and the vacuum spirit of our delusion.. and disillusion. I am the silence that resounds through the bleak folds of your existence, and mine; the conclusion."

*Jul 1st, 2014

I am your poet --
I write your name on my heart
and our memories on my pages.

I write about my doubts,
my maybe's, what if's
and whereabouts
of you; and only you.

I write about my mistakes and yours --
our past, present, supposed future;
and how I love you the most.

I write about our debates --
the shouting and crying like
a wildfire sprawled across the bed.

I write about our first date --
when we dress up so nicely
and danced all night.

I write about our first kiss --
the push and pull of our lips;
and the warmth of our breathing.

I write about the way we talk --
the sweetest and most painful sound
uttered against the wind by the heart.

I write about your heartbeat --
the way it speaks to me,
and how it says my name joyfully.

I write about your face, your body,
the sound, noise, and joy;
and how we make love endlessly.

I am your poet --
I write about our unending love
that ends on my pages.

Everyday I search for
the brightest and shiniest star
on earth while walking home
her look can cure my deepest scar

Everyday I wish to
reach this blazing star
However I try
she is so near yet so far

Everyday I know
in few moments in time
she will be gone very far
left with shallow memories in eyes of mine

What if i can't be with you
in this life on earth
some says we become stars in future
I want to shine next to you by all my heart

SAID lady once to lover,
"None can rely upon
A love that lacks its proper food;
And if your love were gone
How could you sing those songs of love?
I should be blamed, young man.
O my dear, O my dear.

Have no lit candles in your room,'
That lovely lady said,
"That I at midnight by the clock
May creep into your bed,
For if I saw myself creep in
I think I should drop dead.'
O my dear, O my dear.

"I love a man in secret,
Dear chambermaid,' said she.
"I know that I must drop down dead
If he stop loving me,
Yet what could I but drop down dead
If I lost my chastity?
O my dear, O my dear.

"So you must lie beside him
And let him think me there.
And maybe we are all the same
Where no candles are,
And maybe we are all the same
That stip the body bare.'
O my dear, O my dear.
But no dogs barked, and midnights chimed,
And through the chime she'd say,
"That was a lucky thought of mine,
My lover.  looked so gay';
But heaved a sigh if the chambermaid
Looked half asleep all day.
O my dear, O my dear.

"No, not another song,' siid he,
"Because my lady came
A year ago for the first time
At midnight to my room,
And I must lie between the sheets
When the clock begins to chime.'
O my dear, O my d-ear.

"A laughing, crying, sacred song,
A leching song,' they said.
Did ever men hear such a song?
No, but that day they did.
Did ever man ride such a race?
No, not until he rode.
O my dear, O my dear.

But when his horse had put its hoof
Into a rabbit-hole
He dropped upon his head and died.
His lady saw it all
And dropped and died thereon, for she
Loved him with her soul.
O my dear, O my dear.
The chambermaid lived long, and took
Their graves into her charge,
And there two bushes planted
That when they had grown large
Seemed sprung from but a single root
So did their roses merge.
O my dear, O my dear.

When she was old and dying,
The priest came where she was;
She made a full confession.
Long looked he in her face,
And O he was a good man
And understood her case.
O my dear, O my dear.

He bade them take and bury her
Beside her lady's man,
And set a rose-tree on her grave,
And now none living can,
When they have plucked a rose there,
Know where its roots began.
O my dear, O my dear.