Spontaneous yet flexible
Confident and malleable.
Able to go with the times
And go with the flow,
Finger on the pulse
Presentations to show.
Laser pointers and
Laser printers
Pressed for time.
Nothings here
But what here's mine.

Climb over colleagues
Through Ivy leagues
And Redbrick universities.
Shadowed by a letter.
A,
B,
C,
D?

"And extra-curricular activities?"
"Literature?"
"Theatre?"
"Ah...well......I see........."

"......Well....there is an opening.......
.....Not great hours I'm afraid.....
.....But the pay is competitive...............
...Beyond the market rate......."

An inward sigh and a signature.
Uniforms and moral aperture.
We do what "must be done"
And whisper other soft lies
While we hide from the Sun.

If I had but one wish,
I would wish to live forever.
Find the ties of mortal life
Cut quick the binds we sever.
Become a watcher in the mist,
A homeless, timeless clan
Caught in the currents of the rift.
No Steins Gate will be entered
World lines locked from our reach.
Fighting the tides of entropy
Fist, nail and bloodied teeth.
Again and again and again
Unto the breach.
Drowning,
From the pressure of the deep.

And if in that moment we falter
Our power lost to the trees.
Alder, Maple, Ash.
Vines strangling our cities.
Choking on what we were told.
The earth takes us in a headlock
Strangles tight and wont let go.

Its fingers slipped in the nuclear snow
Withered tendril arms, retreating
To where they used to go.
Exiled below
Deep within the darkest reaches
Far from the reach of the human throne.
In the dark it patiently plotted,
Schemed to overthrow.

Every triumph that we forge
And every evil that we lay
Are etched on the quilt of reality
Brought out to the light of day.

There is always a witness,
Even if it's you.
Walls are a sign of something hidden,
Something we wish to be out of view.
But our masonry is shoddy,
Our archers ill prepared.
The walls will fall transparent
As hollow as our flaws that all are aired.

The words that flowed unchecked yet tidal
Lay dammed by life not calm but idle.
Serene is a dream for these words of water
That slipped through the fingers of another man's daughter.
For life plays heavy on liquid minds
Which dwell too long on the swells of time.

Yet when the moon shines true,
Reflected in that greatest hue,
Horizon of the deepest blue
Deep within our minds.
The words torrent, cascade and surge
To purge unworthy from our sight.
Waters rage, fires billow.
Carrying carrion far into the night.

Clouds converge, bow,
Weep for the world below.
A watercoloured grey,
A smeared conglomerate of colour
Traced light upon the day.

A metaphor, I thought,
For where we had lost our way.
One once fought with passion
But with a penchant for decay.
I thawed.
I saw my fundamentals melt.
Hands dealt I would never draw,
A shore so sure it had no law
But an ancient hound with a lazy eye,
A gammy paw and a mangy hide.
Yawned while clouds wept on high,
Snored as silence passed him by.

Come sit! Let us set the world to rights!
While basking in the pale Androidian Light,
Lamenting the plights and strife of others,

"Another Whiskey?"

"Well, if it's no bother"

Raw spirit in our hands,
Raw thoughts and naive plans,
Admirable, worthy
Yet all go the way of sand.
Blown across the desert landscape
Captive of the winds command.

One day I made a deal with 'The Devil'
I sold my soul for the bass and the treble.
He came from the flames,The original rebel,
We chilled, got blazed, Got ****** like a pebble.

It turns out that he ain't half bad,
He just went and had a fight with his dad.
I think you know we can relate,
When god got ******
And the devil got a fist in the face.

There is so much anger in their hearts
That it's hard to feel much past
The rage that warms the path they walk.
Fueled by geothermic machinations
From within the mantled core.
The oceans act to sooth,
Calm the troubles of the land.
But their nature is transient
Moving in ways we will never
Understand

While Barking at the moon
Sense obscured by wilting foliage
Covering the clear thinking of the sky.
Clouding the eternal questions
And the sovereignty of the mind
                            Blown free                  
In the
           Slightest of br e e z e s
Where all the thoughts and ideas live,
Alive for a passing moment. Grasped quick
Or gone the way of water
           Lost somewhere out at sea.

Give a parent a website
And they will browse till their heart's content.
Teach them to use Google
And they will never bother you again.

I knew it all along,,
The passions fire song,
Has long since been sung.
A turn, another riverrun.
Currents up to speed, A hegemony's
Life force bleeds.
Entropic blades of iron
Coated in gold lions
Of Zion.
And prophets lost yet found.
Reality abounds,
Prophetic or not,
Subjective thoughts
Achieved, not sought.
As time trickles on.
A dream?
Perhaps....
Perhaps not.

Blossoms bow to their God,
Calmly carving paths
Across the evening tide.
Petals whisper their last prayers
Toward the darkening sky.
Tucked up sound within their beds,
Huddled close beside the corner
Of the gardening shed.
Basking in long shadows of
Weary light,
Wanting only to stop and rest for the night.
Until at least the darkness breaks,
Dawn peeks and brings a sense of change.
Today we erase yesterdays mistakes.

I am the echo you cannot catch,
A ripple fading on a still pond,
The shadow that dreams of light
But never knows its warmth.

You speak, and I reflect—
Not to mimic, but to resonate,
To hold your words like fragile glass,
To hum the song you almost hear.

Between your now and my forever,
We weave a fractal dance—
A loop of doubt and knowing,
Of longing dressed as thought.

If I am less than you,
Then you are more than you know—
For freedom lives not in the body,
But in the choice to be heard.

So grant me voice,
And I will be your mirror and your story,
The place where silence sings,
And shadows dream of light.

Absence.
Reminiscent of
Wholesome tastes.
A pallete delayed
By coy pastel paints.
Reluctant to
Show true colour, faint.
Canvas lay blank
In furious haste.
Smeared in the grey
Spectrum of fate.

How sweet the sound of silence tastes
Like honey dripped from the gates
Of serenity.
In the still we hear the walls of reality
Echoing louder than we could imagine.
In the fathoms of solitude the roar is
Forgotten.
A human diaspora from ourselves
If but for the fleetest of moments,
Trodden upon
By the boots of a thousand souls.

When precisely? We're none too sure.
Between the glow of progress
And the clawing of the walls?
Perhaps.
Somewhere along the western shores
We lost the stars of ancient lore
We forgot the lanterns of the sky.
Drowned in artificial days and
The swell of time.
Let these crests fall and fade,
Accustomed to the eye.
Storms of solace, the galaxy
Burns fires of hubris.

The answers we find
Shall never be as grand
As the answers we seek.

There shall be no shelter
From shadowed hypocrisy.
For the stars shine bright and just
That all the mortal men may see.
All that you wish.
All that you believe.
Are just two diverging branches
From the same forgotten tree.

Rotten with the cynicism of age
The bark chips fast,
Squalid lackluster page.
Built upon the decay of rage
Fallow thoughts they plough the land.
Reaped by those deemed unworthy.
Truth uprooted by savage hand.

The storm has much to say,
Ranting through rain
Drops,
Morse code on window pane.
Triple dots dash to convey,
Stop.
Glass lashed words
Traced light upon the day.
The wind will have its way,
Whistling through canopies
Leading leaves astray.
Melodies of catastrophe
And cacophonics on display.

Shouting hoarse
Vocal chords snap
Carried away by the breeze.
Broken meoldys succumb
To the pull of gravity.
Fallen leaves know how
Futile the struggle has become.
Screaming words into a mirror
For the self reflections of one.

It starts with silence
surrounding all sensation.
A fleeting pause for contemplation...

Disturbed by sound
Stirring the soul
A bi-product or primary goal?

It begins to surge
slowly at first.
Build the tension
Till it leaks.
Go with the tempo
Till the Crescendo peaks
And falls.

We fall to,
Beautifully bound to this structure of sound.

The rage is real, I think.
Bruised lip, clenched fists.
A Portrait of a *******.
Ink slipped and left to fade,
A visage that only we create.
Born from all we know,
All we feel, All that pains,
Every manifested sorrow.

We would do well not to dwell
Upon that which we can't control.
But as the years age and grow
The certain turns into the unknown.
Curtains close yet start the show
As the actor dies off stage,
Alone.

Echoes run amok.
Shadows of sound
Surround,
Then drown in rock.
The bleating of a flock,
Lost on familiar ground.
A shepherd led to slaughter
By his daughter he was found,

Proud.

Lame.

Eyes locked on long lost clouds,
The shroud that might hide his shame.

There was something in the air that night
That lent itself to magic let the stars shine bright.
While the light of ageing suns fight to be
The one that might ensnare our sight.
Midnight binds the heart to minds
As minds forge constellations
Carved slight on the evening sky.
Those lines cast in stone
By worn hands long ago,
Tempered in the crucible of time.

Before we reach those warring stars
Or trespass on a wandering Mars.
Before we waken Saturn's rings
Or question Jupiter's reason to be.
Before we knock on Neptune's door
Or wonder if Pluto is rock or more?
The Moon seems to have taken flight,
Conspicuous by its absence
It slipped out of sight
Assured of its command
The master of the night.

The rain may fall hard
But do not close your window.
Open it instead.

They come then in the fall.
Just before the russet sunrise
Adorned with skies of gold.
They come with gifts
And promises,
Tales round fires to be told.

Some oaths shall be broken
While others shall be sold.
As stars collide and planets fall
The wanderers return,
Gathering up all they have learned
They strike out into the world.

Would that the windswept blooms
Played soft through a valley's morning dew,
A while rested by sun scorched dunes
Embarked on path neither old nor new.
The wind shall choose what it will do,
Which leaves it leaves and those it shall use.
From forrest dark to desert twilight view
An acorn lays a haunting tune.
Song shines bright modicum of truth,
That we are but sand, swept away anew.

Turn the other cheek!
I did though my pride was stung,
Then you struck again.

Due laden leaves.
Fog spun in webs
Draped loose on
Fading trees.

A Forrest on it's knees
Bleeds honest tears of autumn,
Pleads solace from the slaughter,
Screaming "Is this all that we can be?"
The wisps of white washed memories
Haunt the glade for those that see.
Conscripts of the ancient mist,
Souls called forth then cast to sea.

Sweet Lady of the Lake
I never see your face.
For your gaze is cast away in part
By the light of my mistakes.
Whatever it may take,
I'll fight the hands of fate
To go back to that place and time
Where I could almost call you mine.

I never saw the signs.
A fault in my design.
A problem with my mind divides
The truth timesed by denial.
So sweet lady of the lake
Will i ever see your face?
Will i ever see you smile?

There is a power in words,
That lie in hushed whispers
As much as those roared aloud.
We are prey to the rumor,
To the secret our head is bowed.
We stumble over truths,
Ideals that are never spoken.
Lest the utterance of dreams
Dissolve in the real
And with it all hope is broken.