Chaos in a wind,
A whimper in a death,
A poet stands in a crowd
And lulls the words to grasp
The emtptiness:

Let sleep the order,
Chaos in a passion's touch,
Feel the fiber of existence
And know that one is nothing
And everything to himself.

Chaos like the scream in agony
And torture of the dance
Under the forgotten night
When under the portico
You held back from destiny's
Melody and order killed
The unborn.

Quiet the noise of bitter
Memory, take in hand that
Chaos in a world of numbers
And lose count the minutes
That always seem fleeting,

And a poet overstressed,
Underwhelming as poetry
Became a job,
When time is put into words,
Take the first draft and run,
Let go The editor.

Take it,
Its still there,
And the order is a chaos too.

She only loved the way I made her feel. She didn't love me. Yet I'm okay with that, because I never loved her either. She was a temporary distraction in this eternally dull life. I guess she got something out of it too. She escaped her sad reality of always being alone, even if it was only for a little while. Yet I still wonder, why she keeps crying over my lifeless body. This stupid girl, were you so lonely that you made yourself believe that what we had was real?                     ...I hate that she keeps crying, it's been weeks since my death now. Why can't I pass on to the afterlife? She is probably the cause of my letup, I had thought.                     How much time has passed?  Why can't I move on? Why can't she stop crying?                    Maybe she did truly love me...   A single tear dropped from my right eye.                 Maybe I was truly inlove with her... I began to smile, and I thought to myself... "I guess I was the only one keeping myself back, from passing over to the afterlife.    Goodbye my dear...."  Yet I know she never heard those 3 words, that echoed from my lips as I began to pass on:                  "I    l o v e...      y         o          u."

I was dog tired. Just keeping my eyes open was tough. My timid body was drunk with fatigue. Staring for a whole day at a computer screen and typing as if in a trance, had left my mind blank. My skinny hands were frostbitten in the cheap artificial leather gloves, as they clung to the motorbike handles. My heart raced as I looked at the ominous black clouds.          I tried to focus on the gloomy scenery as my mind drifted in and out of my dream world. Winter had turned the green hedges into lifeless shapes with razor sharp thorns. Mud from previous vehicles had turned the hedges into the edges of a war zone. The trip felt endless as my threadbare tyres skated round the bends. After driving for a hour, the icy chill of the evening air had made me regret not putting on my old trusted army jacket. My rusty red Honda 500cc motor cross motorbike kept up its duel with the dirt road as its exhaust barked continuously. The beam of my headlights kept stabbing the gloomy sky.               With my frostbitten hand, I switched on my CD player, in a desperate effort to focus on the road. The words of Golden Earrings Radar Love pierced my eardrums  "...almost there, gotta keep cool". My goggles started to fog up as I echoed the lyrics. I started to breath shallowly like a chain smoker, to stop my goggles from frosting further. I had just became used to the soothing distraction, when the motorbike gave its last bark and gradually coasted to a stop. I got off my stead, with my joints feeling like a geriatric patient that had completed a rodeo. I surveyed the bust engine as my cursing breath formed little clouds in the gelid air. I dug around in my shabby jeans, whipped out my cellphone, only to discover that there was no reception. I salvaged my flashlight from the bikes saddlebag and popped a "Life Safer" sweet into my mouth. I realized that I had to walk to the nearest town.                 I started down the road, remembering my fathers reference to isolation, being between "hell and the hotel." My flashlight reminded me of load shedding and sudden darkness. As I walked past a small lake, the clouds parted, revealing  a crescent moon that hung in the air like a haunted vessel. The moon reflected in the lake, to a watery grave for the sailors. I got the eerie feeling as I walked, that someone or something was following me. I stopped and swallowed the stale cold coffee that was left in my hip-flask. The howling Arctic wind had ceased and I could hear my own heartbeat. Ledd Zeppelins Stairway to heaven started smoothly...

It was never about the stars,
the breeze,the tides
or the ocean

it was about us,
the way we made everything relevant,
the way everything existed,
in the aura of what we had,

we lived in it,
loved our naked realities in it,
everything else just crept in,
just to be alive and exist for us,
so next time you feel a breeze,
or hear the tides,

remember you are with me,
and we shall hold it till eternity.