The torch is passed
The alter is set
The circle is drawn around the cast
Who were reduced to a silhouette.
The scene is pagan,
It suits the coward
Who fancy a gush of goodness
Would spring out of delirium.

Inclinations, insinuations and demonstrations
Are all worthless;
A speck of dust outstrips their sham preciousness.
This is a solid wisdom not a wild guess!
FACTS are the genuine supernatural powers
That build dreams as tall as towers.
Liars’ donations are false reveries and broken promises,
They are the well-known potions of madness.
Sweet ends are in tunnels holding signals
Unlike the liars’ incessant stigmas.

Pits of liars are the evil dens,
That lure the headless dense.
Flee,
Looking back is harmful
So is shrugging at their talk;
Dear, they would never be your folk.
Flee before it is too late,
Believe your instincts;
Their path has ever proved apocalyptic.
If you are that stubborn incorrigible smug
You’ll soon be a victim of a humbug
Whose shoulders would seem the oasis of rest
And would make you believe that you’re the best.

Do you recognize me?
I leaned on walls so cold and bare,
When winds arose, with silent despair,
I dimmed, like a flicker lost in the air.

I am darkness,
A shadow cast, solitude’s guise,
A tenant within, where the heart lies,
Perhaps a lover, or tears in your eyes.

But how did you catch my gaze?
Was it a fleeting, stolen phase?
The seconds I linger, unseen each day,
Clinging to life in twilight’s array.

Or did you look but fail to see,
The whispering void that’s part of me?

Each night, I waltz with shadows unseen,
As footsteps scatter through autumn’s sheen,
Lives diverge behind glass and frame,
Each window murmurs a different name.

I am myself, unbroken, unchanged,
A silent echo through time’s exchange.
Watching you dream through your window’s light,
A quiet figure that grows with the night,
Dwelling deep within your soul’s cityscape,
A ghost of this life, with no escape.

when the last light is out,
when all the shadows coalesce
to form a path of quiet in the dark,

i haunt the halls better than any ghost,
i hold shadows dear more than most.

only in that twilight i let my hunger roam,
appetite too large for the crevices of a wakeful home.

i wish you weren't scared of my famine,
i wish you would learn how to eat me
with something
other
than
a
knife.

i would hand you a scalloped dessert spoon,
and you could pry my shell open,
like the kitchens biggest prize.

I long for the midday breeze,
Brushing against my skin
Gently caressing,
Softly whispering,
Until the tremors fall asleep
And leave my heart light
As if no longer
can any shadows creep
To obfuscate my mind

One day I'll let my worries
Rest beneath my feet
Till it sprouts newborn hopes
And wishes to be fulfilled

A naked branch awaits the spring
    when vernal vigour will awake
      the cuckoos calling on the wing.
A naked branch awaits the spring
    like distant soundless whispering
      around the icy listening lake.
A naked branch awaits the spring,
  when vernal vigour will awake.

Why do politicians lie
And our wallets deftly pry,
Puff and bluster all the time
Their intent to cheat sublime.

Are we dumb or just naive
Of that talent to deceive,
Smiles aplenty to go round
While broken promises abound.

Why venerate them so
And not tell them where to go,
Pay good money after bad
The whole thing is rather sad.

When we put them to the test
They begin their quest with zest,
But time passes all too fast
Their resolve's not there to last.

We vote them out and start again
And get another just the same,
This conveyor belt of life
Sure to bring us yet more strife.

What solution may we ask
To complete this ingrate task,
Maybe ply them all with drink
Hoping this will help them think.

As to us, let's tune them out
Find a corner where to shout,
Release the loathing and emotion,
Survive the show and the commotion.

Let's be real and rather blunt
Lest our message we might stump,
There is another old profession
That earns its money by the session.

We might as well embrace the ride
Taking bumps full in our stride,
For if we blot out all the noise
They become mere soulless voids.