The departure gives meaning to the absence.
Because absence alone means
     
               disintegration.

And holding on to absence
               Putrefies the heart.
Because you are giving pieces of yourself
    To a black hole.

So when they left,
         You were gifted with a decision:


To move to the left, where nothing feels right
Or to dream of the right, where they never left

Part One

                              A  American Madman's Farwell

I was fried from the scene in LA the lights the fake women with the perfect smiles and quick to jump in bed mentalities that if thinking you were a casting director were all to eager to sell there souls .

The were twisted insane drug addicts maybe that's why I had grown to feel at home amongst them and there demented ways.
I had grown numb to the excess the high quality drugs and all night binges .

My mornings were like rising from the dead more agony than pleasure
I found even now to arise from the crypt it took far more than a stiff drink and a good **** I had to dam near summon a voodoo priestess to bring me back to the living good thing even the masters of the occult all desired to be famous and were already here .

Everyone was after the fast track that quick fix and I was just after yet another story.
I was just another snake in the garden all to eager to take advantage of the first opportunity to strike the innocent then leave them with a expensive habit and some cab fair in the morning .

I sat there as I do now ice in glass bottle on the table frustrated in need  of something more one last adventure was on the horizon .
And my sights were set on the land down under .

Were the heat and mystery surrounded my thoughts where the page could breathe and my thoughts could  take flight one last time .
I sat there a addict in need of another fix one that only a finally dose of adrenaline and adventure could curb my desires .

My choice was made long before my bags were packed.
and few lines and some stiff drinks were all I desired to see this road to its end .

I paid my bill packed my **** and was ready to be lost .
L.A. was a mistake always willing to happen and a new Atlantis destined to be at the bottom of the sea .

I was buckled in  and blown out of my mind as the 747 blasted from tarmac bound for escape pointed towards the sky .
I was higher than Jesus and bound for a story that would be far beyond the depths of my own madness .

Sir would you like a drink ?
The stewardess asked me when we were stable within the clouds.
You can fill in the blank when it comes to my reply .

Just make sure it's a double .

Please fasten your belts ladies and gentlemen the madness will begin shortly .

The astronaut I wave to you
Pick me up, take me into that void
I sit with my paper and pen
Drawing a map of the stars, deciding where I want to begin
That cosmic heaven, is such a wonder so huge
I wish to explore every thread, disappear into that blackness
So astronaut I wait on my roof, please hurry soon
My nose is cold, my jacket is wearing thin
My heart is beating slowly, and my eyes grow heavy
I do not wish to return, to this world of excess
This material thing
Take me away astronaut, I have my things ready
My bag is light, and my hopes are heavy
But I know that it will be worth
To escape into that void with you
To search every inch, of that great astral plain
To die in wonder, in the deepest black hole
Astronaut I wave to you, my SOS is secured
I am ready for depature, take me to my new home

~ Losing Innocence ~
Why do we risk it all for love?
No matter how exquisite,
Passionate, wonderful it is,
We lose;
Always.
Whether we part for differences or in death,
We lose;
Always.
No matter how much we try to hold on,
Change ourselves or our other,
Govern and protect the relationship,
We lose;
Always.

Thus, why do we do it?
We do it for the moments that will reside with us,
Always.
For the craze and lust.
The fury,
The fervor,
The obsession, infatuation, excitement.
For the zeal, enthusiasm, passion.
We do it for us;
To penetrate over into,
Our partner.

Me and You,
We wanted it all.
None of the pain,
Just the good stuff.
Well, we had it.
The good, the lovely.
What a surprise!
But then,
As Always,
We lost.

We lost ourselves,
Our way.
The rhythm and balance
We perfected.
How did we not see it coming?
Stumbling on to a new realm.
One in which we operate alone.
The composition wrecked.
We smashed into that brick wall.
Afraid to leave,
Co-dependent.
I knew you wanted out.
Maybe a break?
You opposed it.
We could not come back from it.
I could feel the coming loss.
But not in the way I expected.

A trip!
To get us back.
The excitement could mend us.
It did for 72 hours.
Then the ultimate force of depature
Came upon.
In a small elegant English hotel,
You died in my arms
On a Saturday morning in London.
Thirty five hundred miles away from home.

The initial shock blasted my mind and body.
The detonation of torment pierced my soul.
Unadulterated suffering terrorised.
I lost my equilibrium and steadiness.
Embarking in an unknown world,
Where the dwellers seethe with agony.
A spot was saved for me there,
Where fumes suffocate.
A Hell on Earth
Where Innocence is Lost.

They stare in morbid curiosity
at the poor beast laying there
in the middle of the road
front paws clawing for safety
whilst it's hind legs are flattened

Why doesn't some driver just finish it's dreadful plight
just put it out of it's terrifying prodicament
the cries of this most unfortunate creature
seem to penetrate and make still all that bare witness

Why are they swerving to avoid it
someone finish the poor ******* off
make fast it's painful depature
take away it's lingering agony


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Waiting
One
Two
Three
Days, months, years, decades
8th month of the year
For in 6-8 months
Spring will return,
So will the worn tan boots,
Hopefulness of standing with weight inside.
Not resting, within a box that dawns Red, White, and Blue.
Star’s twinkling from the tired, resting soul that lay beneath it.
But, the super hero that stands before the little feet in front.
Giggles, Laughter, Sigh’s of calm water works.
“DADDY, DADDY, DADDY!!!!”
“MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY!!!!”
“LOOK, SEE, SEE, I CAN DO THIS NOW!!!!”
Chant’s from the little feet bouncing from one step to another.
Soon they count.
The calendar pages flying off the wall, towards the tired tan boots.
Preparing for use again.
Three
Two
One
Waiting

Before the last chapter
ends
Let us make amends to
the people we've
wronged
To those we love
let us cherish each
moment we share
with them

Before the last chapter
closes
Roses will still be
red
The sky will still be
blue
Our five senses will
still be true

After the chapter we'll
depature
we'll leave earth
before the rapture
We will live a new
life
startin' on a new
lane
not from money
or fame
We will get everything
in his name
As he will forever
reign

The last chapter is near
Do not fear
The Lord is here

To taste the red burst of rippened tomatoes
that catch a summer's glee whose
shouts run down airconditioned malls of daffodils
to reach butterscotch ends

To catch naive dewdrops on their final wave
-- gleeful regardless of their fleeting demise
on leaffy budettes as they hitchhike on blushing shins
that touch for just a second

To receive the cricket's call
and hang on their every word like
how the stars do on the night sky velvet
hung taut to stop the dreamer's upward freefall

To reverbrate down hymns
and ***** pipes whose rust subdued
by caramel oaken spirits and
cigars rolled with rebellion

To watch the twinkle of eyes
that unroll before me cinemated
like the rhythmic  popping of corn seeds
and the anticipation of childlike hands

To surf the last yawn and sigh
whose ebb and flow crash on
pristine beds -- that soothes and prickles the ears
where the mind remains calm and restless

To sit with 4am and drink
tea or coffee (whichever it desires)
and have hours of conversation before
its teary depature

To the pilgrims' call of the first train
The satisfaction of staying vigil
simmers in the insomniac's stovetop
that seems to be low on gas

The need of slumber seems trivial at most
for dreaming has never known the diffrence
between being awake or asleep
or could this just be my mind that flurries
like jackrabbit thumps and heffalump nightmares
and honey dripping down my boyish chin
and mother napkins and lush lullabies
that whisper "go to sleep"

How dare you apprehend me
With the shackles of your love.
What right have you to blind me
With your beauty.
Who do you think you are
To steal my heart?!

You entered my life
on a summers breeze.
And in the depth of night
You stole away my heart.
In the morning when I awoke
I could not feel it's familiar beat
And I knew it was down to you.

You were gone as quickly as you arrived.
Your depature as silent
As the breeze that carried you.
Taking with you only my heart,
Still beating, and fresh.

You left me behind
Heartless
In a trench of tears.
I loved you
Silently
Instantly, and for more than a night.

I wonder where you keep my heart?
Whether it's on display,
Another trophy to show off,
Or holed away under your floor boards.

Who do you think you are
To show me happiness
And steal it from me
Within a single meet.

Take care of my heart,
Better care than you took of me
Don't leave it to bleed,
in a puddle of love
Trapped in your box
Of broken promises

How can you play victim with a handful of cards
The ones you dealt left me in awe
You burnt into my core that I was the one
Gazed into my heart and I sold you my soul
But now im the one drowning in the stone
Pouring from the wounds you left at your depature
But im the chosen one

Everything is amenable to a pen--
so nevermind this sudden splash of water
on this page, nevermind it all, it is
something I ought to have been able to make
for myself back home-- if I so desired it,
and finally, I'm glad that I no longer did:

You see,

travelling is a game for me. It is no
urgency, no need. When I was younger
how many times was I told that: it would be
this way? By teachers and others and televisions
that to leave home
would be the great mattering;

Let me remind you of the Acacia trees!

Nevermind this sea! And its constant blueness,
their imports of me and those who looked
like me; then their denails of me and
those that look like me when finally
the depature of their self-righteousness

A funny thought:

In RPGS they're NPCS:
In role-playing games they are
non-playable characters:

when you walk your character
to them and give a little click
upon them they might talk and say
something of their


                                     lives

the question is, is what happens
after you switch off the video game
console. Are they always frozen
in their space in that time or is it
that the need for you to journey
keeps everybody so still in your head
that you forget that they too have

                                      lives