My ashtray tells a lovely story,
How much time I have lost,
I count the moments....
Each ***** ****'s pungent stink,
Reminding me to ignite the next smoke,
A smooth, fragrant death stick,
A weapon of mass destruction,
An appeasement for the demons,
That fits my hand so well.

I wish a storm would come,
Blowing your presence to my arms,
This rotten world may fall,
Darkened by the avarice of monstrous men.
I pray for humble cherubs to take my heart to be with yours,
As the Sun fades to a mass of cosmic ash,
We will leave together, within a warm embrace,
Never to look upon this world again.
Our hopes for a new life
Our hopes for a new light,
Our love the source of starfire.
Our nova, we are home.

I know I hear what I'm thinking,
It couldn't be any smaller,
Like the lion's den, where my angel fell,
Into the darkest creeps of the night.

I try to live while I'm sleeping,
I could not see the illusion,
Of the future for rent,
As the silence frequents,
This strange lunar karma.

Lazy oceans of feelings,
I try to swim but they're frozen,
And mine is a heart so choked
And bound in wire rope,
Then the morning brings the day.

Lacquered hearts, they can only reach so far,
Our noble desires and flawless ambition,
The personification of humanity,
An eternal endeavour of self perception,
That stems from the effluent flow of creation,
The very beauty of our nature unseen,
A blushing truth so often discarded,
Dumped for better viewing in a frenzied way,
Our savagery becoming civil through time,
These signs of our shared fate,
Truth, something we would love to be shown,
But seeking it must suffice.

The bitter wrenching of my broken soul,
Distracts my dreaming eyes from her,
Waiting impatiently for some elusive event,
Some divine closure that confirms in the heart,
Still nothing comes....
Just a silence, breached by my breath,
A soft sigh, gutless and frail.

When time becomes like a vapour,
The shape of one's self changes,
Lights that became burnt and warped,
Are an optimistic memory, angled at the future.
Hope, a vision still in sight,
But so blinkered in this vortex,
A maze so difficult to find footing or navigate,
But so delightful to ignore an easy to become marooned.

Every night she sits upon the rocks,
Her eyes gazing upon the moon.
The dark woods, they creep all around her,
As she wonders and wishes upon the stars.
The soft trickle of the stream rings in her ear,
All else is the silent whisper of the wind blowing,
As the calm night soothes her soul,
She wonders, alone.

The clandestine truth,
A softly spoken whisper that clasps our souls together,
Amidst brilliant light and empty darkness,
Across voids of space and aeons of time,
This faint whisper of origin,
That ventures across every utterance of creation,
Brings forth meaning, vision and acceptance.

Woe to the world,
The promised land has just got smaller,
That special place to the east sanctified by the caller,
What's the rush to **** and die for life?
These are the roots of our plundered, ageing strife.
Central to feuding beliefs is an ideal called peace
And that dove is yet to conquer the ever fighting geese,
As you read on, another brother wipes his brow with a ******, ***** rag,
And that dove called peace remains an idea trapped in a brain paper bag

As the luminous moon shares her subtle voice,
The velvet darkness clutches light lost in descent,
This lonesome night teaching fledgling hearts a lesson,
Their blossoming journey a guided flurry,
What next for a love so warm?
A nourishing cradle for such pleasant dreams,
Hiding hope from green eyed scrutiny,
Saving truth and purity for the last day.

Floating on the wind,
Staring at the void,
I carry the null of my sum,
As I come falling, slowly down.
The rage that claws in my soul,
Surrenders itself to fright,
Yielding a pugnacious grudge,
That spills into the night.

Time: a perception so daunting,
A flow of moments so varied.
Time: a crushing veil in life,
A gliding climb and endless descent.
Time: a sweet memory, savoured,
A stream of endless joys and dreams.
Time: so crisp and true in the mind,
A con so ruthless and inhuman.
Time: the morbid joker laughing,
Casting a silent slumber upon all our souls.