He still lives with demons
that once held him tenderly
when no one would
be able to find the words
to say that fill the glass
as it is tipped back
and slowly emptied
of the liquor that stirs
memories from the headwind
that blew the lovers' hair back
on the drive through autumn
windy, windy mountain paths
as another Queen song plays
on the radio and the raindrops
on the windshield tap along
with fingertips against the steering wheel
to Freddy Mercury and shared heartbeats.

The truth is he is lying
there like an open wound
as he begins to measure self-worth
with texting tempo and memories
of last summer being too hot
to cuddle with one another
though it was more than enough
to hold feet under the thin sheets
that remember the glass
once again filling with words
as another drink is emptied
and his head burst through clouds
leaving him to hydroplane
through windy, windy mountain paths
as the raindrops on the windshield
applaud with the demons
that beckon tenderly for his return.

Not rats in wheels,
but birds on the wind;
a spirit feels,
for a life on the wing

the gale holds her still,
A headwind too strong
but she soothes as she sings
For flight is her song

Storm Rider(sample the doors)
start with "Riders on the Storm" softly repeated x4)

Try catch me-leap from ground to sky,
light up the night as I fly,
Tip to tip mischievous-watch me salmon leap-avert your eyes,
The Celtic Dragon Storm Riding tonight,
feel the static on your skin lets take flight…
Vast vista’s fistula’s in the earths core,
fly with me you wanna feel more?,
cut core to core claws - millivolt amped,
up to attack lay down my stamp,
Earth tremblin’ rumblin' humbling when I catch the spark,
revered by Tesla - hear me Arc…
Another mic blown - booth in chaos,
I stand firm - you're reeling as you're reeled in tossed,
like ragdoll physics my rhymes rip timelines,
Faultlines and default rhymes?
Never,I’m too clever,agility reveals your fragility,
Claws rip and drag you down …to a sea of tranquility…
Hush now ,shush now,
hear the susurrus as I leave you nonplussed
phase you back to your body  trans warp jump
tachycardia spasms chasms torn by talons,
pounces crush tons to ounces as I flex my neck…
hasn't changed since Wu told ya’s”Best protect ya neck”

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...

Feel me breath blowing like a gale - the Gael without fail,
I inhale and exhale flames of hell,
hellbent- time to repent
you’re scurrying in gullies while I seek your Scent,
SNIFFFF-grrrrrrrr that’s the sound of doom,
from the Emerald shore to the Pharaohs tomb,
No room to escape the breath that melts steel
rabbit in my headlights feel my claws life steal,
oxygen and nitrogen erupt to seal your fate,
debate-berate, get estate in order,
one Molten blast of fast rhyme its over.
scorchmark against a granite wall,
burnt to a crisp by the firestorm from hell,
well welcome to hell do you feel the heat?
Sandman slim dragon never fears defeat,
20 years here  spittin’ in the underground,
Now its time to vacate my space hear my sound
A no go area,gates of Mordor,
dragged by the Dragon to your place of ******,
claws like claymores rake your face,
prepared to ignite,take flight-seal your fate...

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah, the firestorm
Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah, the firestorm
Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...

Call me Nukker ******, you're due to be Slaine,
one scaldin' verse melts down your brain,
searing breath - death bursts unprepared heads,
Streets run red with the blood of the dead.
Feel the headwind....blowin' as I exhale.
My fetid breath tastes stale as you inhale
lucid juices sluicin in the Wyrms Den,
just One spark you're gonna BURN then!,
wingspan of an Antonov best back off!,
forked lightning blasts ground - as I take off,
fly head on to the heart of the Hurricane,
calescent death as I stake my claim,
rider on the storm,your attempt? - luke warm,
spells incandesce without stress as they take form,
the Serpent serpentine's through the night sky,
take eyes off mine? - your turn to fry.
don't cry it's fate, conserve your hate,
you perspire before your expiry date,
a Deer in the deadlights I'll open the gate,
to the next realm, next challenger calcerated,
another Champion obliterated,
ardent first to set foot on my Isle
now you're here you feel febrile,
feeble feverish attempts cut short clean sliced,
by the Firestorm Dragon with the eyes of Ice.

(Soft-"Riders on the Storm" rpt x2 Chorusx2 end.)

Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by...
Storm Rider,Glider light up the night yeah,
the Firestorm Lightning Storm inside your minds eye take my hand and we'll both fly
as the ground flashes by.

Headwind slows me down

more than I accelerate --


with that wind behind.

Sometimes poetry doesn’t happen
Until you’ve fashioned what you want to say
And felt its worth in prose.

You go somewhere a little known
But time newly fashions its affect.
Late autumn then, today summer’s end.

Since early morning the sun has shone.
Heading north, the clouds magisterial.
Spread themselves, ermine-cloaked.

I watch you as you drive:
The pleasing proportions of your seated self,
a warm glow on your left cheek.

We have become so careful you and I
With what we say and the way we say it.
Hard to keep the conversation aloft.

After ninety miles it’s good to get out
In a by-passed village, a quiet place.
Bicycles now take us towards the ancient coast.

There it is: the sea. The spirit lifts.
Wind at our backs and grateful to turn
to the pleasure of a minor road.

Now there’s time to take in a distant manor,
the swallows’ dart and spin, a stone tower
from which the landscape’s perspective flows.

A long straight road runs to a coastal village.
Lunch is eaten against a churchyard wall.
As a cloudy afternoon beckons, crows gather.

Turning east will the headwind strain
The morning’s calm confidence? Perhaps.
Have we come too far and expect too much?

At the causeway now, where the tide has left
The horizon-reaching expanse of mud and sand,
It seems a long road to the village at the island’s end.

Briefly, we sit to contemplate a yet further isle
Where, facing the sun’s fall into the folds
of distant hills, a northern saint found solitude.

So tired at the hotel I insist on immediate food
And soon the tension of the day falls from your face
And briefly I catch a smile from your eyes.

Memory returns me to another room where, newly married,
I caressed your long nakedness in a strange half-light,
My hands and body visiting every part of you.

As dusk falls we walk briefly to view the sand and sea.
Then bed and hardly a page turns before seeking sleep.
Restless, I reassemble the day, moment by moment.

soaring…
flying high, gaining momentum.
how beautiful…
but lasts not nature’s beauty as darkness moves in.
a chill settles as if the nest were ice…
the flight is threatened by a headwind,
rolling thunder from afar booms…
boisterous, billowing, clouds moving faster,
unnerving, unravelling courage, unrelenting fear…
but nothing can keep him down.
an attitude as wings…
a slight shift can fix it all.
the gusts blast beneath him…
shifting his wings,
angling up… .
the eagle soars higher.

take that which comes against you …
and use it to lift you up higher.

Privilege: A Poetic Illustration
The open sky
available to birds
free of cages that have
entrapped the
rest of us.
To soar in any direction
knowing no headwind,
net, bars or
wings clipped.
The free bird sings
not so much of power,
for he is
most often blind
to his blessing ,
but of
Choice.
The caged bird,
knowing no
such sky,
watches as
flying
tires faster,
as song
sounds of
battles past.
The sky alone,
rich in pitfalls unseen,
knows
which sky-corner
will be available
to thee.

I was sailing back to you,
I would have sailed all the way across those
vicious seas, through the rocks,
on your breeze.

I would have caught your tailwind,
and sailed, like Magellan, around the globe,
but you were turning the Earth against me.

I would have sailed back to you,
tattered sheets on splintered masts,
makeshift oars to guide me, broken.

I would have sailed back to you,
to your harbor, crumbling,
and helped repair it, fixed.

I would have sailed back to you,
but
your tailwind became a headwind,
you burned my sails,
shattered my masts,
stole away my oars, and
destroyed your harbor.

And now I float,
desperate
starving
thirsting...

But I am now finding,
in the absence of your blinding star light,
that there are other harbors
that could save me from
the storm that you've become.

I looked through all the crap writings I did when I was 15
and one of them
had the phrase
"I am resurgent"
carved on it.

That was from
those days where
I havent realized that
I was
born to be an
anti hero;

Two years later I grew up
to be a vicious menace
and I deeply resented the way people around me manifested and projected their halcyon feelings of contentment in front of me because I was the only one who hasn't been able to feel those things amongst everyone I know.
I thought I could have been happier if I decided to redeem myself down as a hero but I
was
wrong.

No one will ever be a chaste saint nor a hero without desecration and it's alright that you won't ever be one because so won't I and all those premonitions of fright and dread will end once you've come to accept that maybe some of us were
born as anti-heroes
or
even
villains.

The visceral skies might be mad at me for I pushed people away by thinking that only drugs can make me smile and only my backup guys can save me and those skies were trying to warn me. If I seek for my knight in a shining armor just to use him as my escapist redemption to help me turn my back against everyone who claimed to love me then it's not love that I'm looking for; it's just revengeance towards the wrong people. The ferocious dissonance of black hole sun inside me hated the fact that everyone was happier than me and I was the only one who deserved headwind storm whilst everyone else deserved the sun.

Not everyone behaves generously all the time, some can turn into complete ******* including me and all those ****** up antiheroes and antiheroines who happen to be the unreliable narrators of the books I read. I have died a myriad of times after circumstances beat me up relentlessly until I choked on my pool of blood that tasted like the hard liquors that I got drunk on. At times I kept on dying for a long time and at times I resurrected but I didn't always resurrect into a better self and there were times I decided to reconstruct my past heroic self as a villain.

But I want to believe that I'm not all good nor all bad.

The caged princess valkyrie who used to wish she had a six-shooter gun, has been released from her cage and she now flies freely with her reconstructed wings to the vast iridescent-coloured visceral skies in order to reach the sun.

I am undefeated
eventhough I'm not.

You were my rock
Already laden with gulls and mermaids
And I was a wandering ship
My headwind weaving into your nooks and smoothing grooves along your chipped and chiselled face

We were a force that couldn't be reckoned with
The quiet breeze of a butterfly's wings
Catching and cooling
As the tide lapped and rose
Falling sharply away when it tasted the shoreline

The storm that gathered held distant
But its rhythm persisted in your lands
Small truths you'd held in place with busy times
Began to fracture
Splintering and splitting
There was no place that was not moved by thunder

The rope that bound us began to fray
Drawn taut and heavy, untended and laden with salt water

Tearing at the snags and sharpened juts
It eventually snapped
And I sailed onwards
While my anchor lay rusting
In the crannies of your lonely bed

‘We’re floating up with the Angels,’
Said the girl in the pale green dress,
She’d voiced the phrase in German
For the girl had hailed from Hesse,
‘I never have dreamt of a night like this,
We soar like the gods of old,’
Then they came and shut all the windows,
For the night was growing cold.

There wasn’t a shake or a shudder
From the platform in the sky,
The waters of the Atlantic streamed
Below, but they were dry,
A headwind slowed their progress
And a storm was coming on,
The flickers of distant lightning lit
The path that they flew along.

The following day, the coast appeared
But the rain set in the more,
Rather than land, the captain took them
Over the Jersey shore,
The weather was bad at Lakehurst, so
They whiled away the hours,
Floating up there above the clouds
And the steady springtime showers.

They finally dropped the mooring lines
As the crew stood by below,
When a sudden flash was seen up aft
And a roar began to grow,
The ship was lit like a candlestick
As the gas and the fabric scorched,
While a flame enveloped the girl in green
And lit her up like a torch.

The frame crashed down on the gondola
And all you could hear were cries,
It was almost as if the gods had screamed:
‘How dare you enter our skies?’
They say that St. Elmo’s Fire was seen
By the watchers, down on the ground,
But there wasn’t a trace of the girl in green
When the Hindenberg went down.

David Lewis Paget

Or how can we?

Seems to be
the same headwind
against which we must
surge
or accept being
broken by,
continue crawling against,
until, in hope,
it shifts

and we go
with it,
together,
towards.

Landfall...

a progress
nipped by headwind,
though his bullish heart
has flickered clear of drowning,

so he's dusting down
Saharan surplus, hawking
off the sea-sick yachts,
ensconced in royal chiffon,

appealing for that magnet-tug
along the pollen flyways
pulling homeward..

and
I wonder
if he sees me,
-mid shipped twitter
post Johannesburg-

a gurning
plate of swan-necked
adulation, craning skyward

that I should pin
my yearnings to his
cloud-encrusted orbits
caws of folly..

more fanciful
than summer being
borne upon his wings...

I first saw her twisted braids
flying  in the air behind her,
she was spectacular,
a steady determination
flared from her eyes.

The blue water churned
from her steady strokes
as she pushed straight away
into the strong headwind,
a formidable force
to be reckoned with.

The power in her arms
were traced onto her muscular form
and she was gone in a flash,
like tropical-lightning.

I stared in awe,
had witnessed
a pretty lady and her shell
become one with the water,
as she disappeared
into the mist
so very alive.

there's nothing like the wind at my back,
pushing me forward,
augmenting my strength,
decreasing my time
and building my power higher,
it's easy.
but it is the headwind
against which i become stronger,
faster and more able,
it is the resistance against which
i push, strive, hone my senses -
it is against struggle where i define myself.

In the legend of the lovers Tristan and Iseult, there is a small, magical, immortal dog named Petitcrieu who "ate half the sadness of everyone he met." He didn't gift any type of forgetfulness, but instead bestowed the ability to bear the sorrow easily.


Bells are ringing wet and pink
on a muscled shoreline of skin,

lining me with their tolling.
Their knell is so heavy in the ear,

it sinks into the sand chokes
trapped on my frozen tongue.

Someone great has vanished again.
The clang and clatter escapes

out of this red chest oven,
bangs around the wild world.

Grief is announced, by way
of cacophony. Where are the dogs?

The ones who eat our sadness
with their bellish barking?

Who look into our brief eyes
& remove the worst of the sting?

Who serve the moon, defy the sun?
They have gone missing.

Sorrow rushes through the waters
a blued frigate with a headwind,

overtaking the heart, the head,
the curried spine...

In this age, sadness is the magazine
that all of us are reading.

You came into my life as a cool breeze, but quickly turned into a headwind, halting my progress. I've now turned into a tailwind for you.

They've always been there
Waiting for the right wind
A warm one to care me somewhere
My strong one with a good headwind
The true wind to glide into the heavens
Lept and fallen when I thought it beckon
But it wasn't my wind
My wings scared and battered
Like my heart tattered
But one day they will soar
And I'll be earth bound no more

The sky is glooming,

the headwind tires me, I wish –


the moon was shining.