Spin a little lie, poke this needle into your eye,
You see what you want and give what you don't,
Spin a little tale, of deceit and contempt, in a fable,
This is not your story, it's history.

The paper crumbs you leave are better than bread,
I walk down your trail and get lost in your forest of words,
You sentenced me to lifelong learning lessons, intricate textures on ancient tools,
My eyes find you on paper, my mind wanders from here, you are nowhere near.

In an age where they stare at their handheld screen,

More than the windscreen,

At an age where they say they know his profile,

Cause it’s all there on his online file,



During this age where they sum him up quickly,

He knows they have mistaken the facts thickly

The mind has become barren but everyone thinks themselves of a genius,

Weathering in this ******* age of circuit boards,

He hopes to disappear faster than they could hit the Delete button,

This age is not his age.



Liquids and pills,

Chemicals and organics,

Smoke and sounds,

He noticed they revel in these illusions,

With excuses to reduce their stressed lives,

Only to go back and induce more,

When they fall on themselves, disillusioned.



The true essence of anything has been reduced to a mere greet and goodbye,

The fact finding sheets are now yellowed and filled with rusty dots,

Communications breakdown more often,

The stagnant community has become a constant living bubble,

That he hopes they break out of from, one day.



Until then, he would try to stay within his own,

Only providing the input,

When they can compute,

Until then, he would try to stay away,

Faltering in the dark amidst four empty walls,

'cause silence seems to talk more these days.

He prays to the nightfall as his ravenous beauty dances with the stars,

No words are uttered,

Unison beyond human communications,

Something that you and me can't see,

A shooting star illuminates the sky,

They grasp each other tight,

But their minds grip each other tighter



Wake to the smell of a thousand burning stars,

'Cause in you and me we falter with fake wars,

But in them you notice, hundred reasons to follow through,

Unruly laughter and reasonless happiness,

The way to live and be, you and I, need to know to unite,

On this night, and many more to come.

To the horned one and the winged one,

the mystic and the oracle,

the stars and the sun,

and the energy around of a miracle.



Gather your atoms and send them this way,

the troubled one needs some today,

either to exterminate those he despise,

or to be proven otherwise,

to eliminate the troubles that pour on him,

and the personal issues that devour him.



To gather enough wisdom in due time,

so that the facts can be weeded out from the fiction,

that for now seem hidden at halftime,

for he wishes to move on and seek new action

It begun like any other beginning of collective days,

A gathering and the usual greetings,

A gathering of the faithful,

A toast to the New Year,

For peace, love and many other happy thoughts.



Yet, it wasn’t to be.

A break and a permanent ending came early.

A distasteful exchange of words,

No beating around the bush,

Though many hidden feelings were buried with silence.



Routines became routines still, but with sad endings.

It was routines overdrive

A new assemblage formed, from interrupted ships,

Based on a common driving factor,

It was a new routine, still in overdrive.



The celebration carried on,

Inside and outside the building,

New found places and new found faces,

A bond that became tighter over time.



A spark here and there,

But nothing special,

A desire here and there,

But nothing that would move a person.

Feelings conflate, and smoke appeared,

From a fire, no one admitted to have started.



Events unfolded and secrets were shared,

Torrents of an upside-down curve,

Nothing was straight for a while,

A downward spiral loomed,

The voices around never helped,

Instigating more than resolving.



Still, routines it became, in overdrive,

A path might have shown up, or two,

But nothing permanent,

Experience that needed to be learned?

Feelings that needed to be masked?

A sorry and a reason should have been given.



In time, the actors and actresses changed characters,

Perhaps time did play a role after all,

But they know the play has not ended,

They met and left for a reason,

They might know it then, or later,

But there was one.

It will continue,

Since the prophecies of doomsday were disproven?

They pick up where they left and continue their act.

For a new year is coming up.

For a new routine needs to be drawn up.

In overdrive. In extreme.

Beneath that sea of chaos,

They seek to find some solace

They seek to find some kindness,

They seek you, HOPE.

Hoarders meet at the junction,

An event of gallant proportions,

Spare no one, collect all function,

Time has come to throw action



An assemblage of mixed pasts,

A mob of sorts that have chemistry,

Emotions and feelings that traded pasts,

Celebrations of routine blustery



A meet and a smile,

A talk and a walk for a mile,

Conversations and texts,

A glance and a gaze of ***,

Brood and bitter,

Understood I never,

Hearsay and heresy,

They came in secrecy,

Complicated, why was it?

Differing routes, that was it

Conversations and laughter,

Went away drifting asunder

A comely dalliance,

Unfit for an alliance,

An ephemeral chapter,

Finally creating a loner



Drifters came together,

Tales and fables tailored together,

Each with a tongue of his own,

Ideas and theories being sown,



An inconclusive tale that fits more than one,

A shirt that fits and boots that match,

The forbearance of one,

Rain stormed down on this patch



Rise again and inure myself,

Overtly dramatic proportions,

They crash within self,

Forget to salvage your emotions

Let it all loose with a benign smile.

My words don’t appear like my mind visualizes,

A speech-impaired philanthropist swings inside,

Tonight, the hailstorm rides the waves,

I am not on the same page, inside.



My thoughts wander on that plane,

An unforgotten tune lingering in the rain,

Leaving this mere mortal on this plane,

How I wish I can leave this pain.



I need the cover of the Carpathian mountains,

And beyond in the realm of darkness,

Ambient sounds and the tragedy of dropping rain,

I need to leave this page, struggling madness.



Before I leave, I need to confess,

That what the heart had desired for long,

To be on a journey, with my obsessed,

I wish you were on the same page, forever after

What may come, with fire or water,

The Earth can swallow me tonight,

I perish with all that remains, written on this page.

The idiot box sings my tunes today,
Dancing stars and grainy images,
Words that don’t mean what they say,
My stars, you should burn with sages

For centuries, illusionists built shrines,
Tombs and tomes that tell of medieval tales,
Hah! Come forth and tell them now!
The ignorant chooses to ignore you,
And the naive will desert their faith for you,
A congregation of folly-minded beings

A black figure stands before me,
Darkness shrouds every corners, tonight I am alone,
The owls hoot from swaying trees,
The cloaks emit depths of despair,
Fiery red eyes, ***** of fire in a heated night,
The thin bony fingers rise up to me,
His lips move, “The hounds of hell await you!”
The fingers wrap around my arms,
“The rest you had, will be the last you ever had”

Dragged through the walls of shame,
Chains bind these hands that hit and hid many more,
Ropes cut through flesh that tasted many forbidden pleasures,
Spikes pierce through the eyes that saw sin,
I am paraded for the pleasure of the unholy souls,
Tonight, they dance in their graves,
Today, the stars burned with their saints,
Tomorrow, all that you knew is no longer true.

Atrocities bind my humans,
A death race to finish the rat race,
Vicious vigilantes cover your demons,
The premier guides you to your dream ace.

Red stains on the brown sand,
Earth that once sheltered and shimmered,
Skies that rained onto land,
Artillerymen break the silence of the sacred

We push through floods and quakes,
Dancing with grief as we all bilk,
Life plays out like a bowl of flakes
You dunk the spoon and spill the milk

Have you not heard?
No use crying over spilled blood

The sands will dance on your grave,
A ravaging scene of thoughtful revenge,
Grains of sand will fill your grave,
A tormented scene of destined revenge

The broad daylight will be your silent killer,
No more will you hear of the plague,
They light brown winds of a thriller,
A plan that was deemed too vague

The sands have shaped your silhouette,
A deep dark brown dot of an existence,
Lands before time have had this dragnet
You have been dusted out of existence!