It hurts to end a book,
It hurts to end our story.
To know it was just a glimpse,
Soon nothing short of an eternal memory
Embedded, anything but faded

It hurts to leave you by,
To detach myself from you
Knowing my departure’s to be now or never,
For any other encounter shall be a timeless pain.
Knowing already, with you unaware,
Your journey’s destiny,
What came to be, comes and what will come,
Perish or last.

Like a mother, or a father, or a heavenly angel,
I see you grow, I see you change
And dance and play with the dangerous and unknown fate.
Then I can’t help but notice as melancholy,
So great that sorrowful,
Starts simmering in my chest
When I finally come to my senses to, in fact, realise
That with every new difference, every new feeling, thought and day
You drift further and further away
Like the dearest ship you loved with all your might,
With me, surprisingly, sailing away,
With the sense of excitement and fear too,
Together into the Unknown

When we arrive at our last harbour,
Despite our battle with merciless time,
At the last droplets of the quill’s ink staining those rusty pages,
I acknowledge the inevitable finale.
Though my mind stands tall, my heart crumbles
Not wishing to leave,
To untie the bond with the one,
Who loved the same world of dreams,
Audacity and passion,
The one and only who knew and believed in my vision,
Ideals as I
And never returned to the chains on his knees

With sobs racking my body and fiery protests in my stomach
I give you my last kiss, bidding goodbye,
As if death was making us part.
It’s been my greatest honour and pleasure to accompany your every step.
To look back with aching heart on your glorious days,
To see every dark corner of your puzzling past...

To experience this mystery being life as truly one entity.

I mourn over this moment,
Aware of the cruel ticking of the clock that came to an end
And returning no more to us,
As every other return shall leave a bitter taste in the mouth,
Overwhelming with my conscience of your final chapter on every step:
With you already gone
Lingering in the memories of the pages,
Invincible to time yet aware of it no more,
Unaware of any other moment than “now” and “here”

It hurts to close a book.

It hurts to end a story.

Of us ceasing to be,
Of us ceasing to speak.
As no other tale shall replace soon what we bore,
I bid my “Farwell”,
Leaving another piece of my being in you
For an eternity.

With these final breaths I pay my tribute to you,
For what you were, gave, did,
Took, created and left.
To James Fry, a barefoot sailor of the seven seas.
The consort of the oceans and the seas.
The audacious, brave and challenging kid.
The man who was courageous enough to live,
On his own terms, never bent to any mortal,
Never bound to the earth nor dull reality.

Wish you favourable winds in the sails of The Morning Star.
May you end your days with the same greatness you lived and were destined for.

A broken maze hides inside my mind;
Revelers rambling round never find
The end - lacking signposts or guides,
They tread eternities while the exit hides

From echoing clatter to blinding roar,
From gentle pitter-patter to take no more,
Crowds mill through in groups and pairs;
The walls vibrate, as do I downstairs

Food trucks ply their bountiful snacks
Feeding frenzy, launching scent attacks;
The noxious steam combines to rise,
Waft out, confound and desensitize

Enclosed in walls impossible to climb
Trapped all together in layered time
The revelers begin to sway and swerve
Blundering on networks of frayed nerve

With no path to success or even escape
The horde begins to push and scrape
The walls - tremble, creak, quiver, quake;
The maze, my mind, my universe - break

NCL August 2019

There is nothing lonelier than wanting to be alone
They are queuing at my door to tell me
About my latest work
Asking what I'm doing now
For advice on what to write
What's hip or in Vogue
As if I'd know, I've been talking
About myself for years

But the beer in the fridge has
More to say to me then any of them
It speaks of the quiet of loneliness
Seeping into bones numbing
Brain cells
I can feel it wash over me
It tastes of stale breath and smells of bo
It wears a shirt unbuttoned down the front
Trousers with the fly open
Sitting listening to Sibelius
Smoking cigarettes

It's like the ***** that just won't leave
You're tired of all the talking
But you know you want to do it
One more time while you can

In a “wise passiveness“ I sit
Able to conquer any fit.
Wounded is my melancholy
When he meets his deft enemies
My Serenity, and Spirit

oh i know that i'll die
in the warmth of your
a r m s