At the airport

A beating sun once rose but would hardly set,
Her time was sounding, the car could only sail,
This heart that marches through the way,
Never back but soon the two they were and back,
Whose heart he can never break and never sour,
Whose glowing eyes that reaped in tears a sea,
The slowing heart that beats the rest comes tide,
For within a fortnight as much a blooming flower,
This slow stem held heart by wreathes fragile,
That hue which we call love once foretold,
With every step to the gateway another bled,
For sighs alone can never conjure the broken weep,
Though silent but heavy a beat so echoes aloud,
How speedy the hours fall as much theirs grow, Read More

A little song

But pity is I who cannot sing,
Can only do depth alack my feel,
Is but the softening my voice said,
Is but a soothing dare to sing,
How shall I if not for words to say?
I would learn but my heart in angst,
Surely I am sighing my words in water,
There’s brew to be had; tis only hot,
Give me the rhyme to sing my days by,
My nights troublesome; my days gone,
I’ll wander through the dark whistling,
There’s but a whistle in my thinking,
There’s but a thought to sing daily,
My dear, whose voice only cracks at mine,
Is no voice more soothing than thine heard,
Ne not she sing for how her eyes wander,
No need but I am gazing at ye my wish content,
No need for songs for only actions wrought,
But words, only words is me to contend.


There’s a loudspeaker in my head,
I’ll draw a circle through the sky,
Mine eyes stealing more eyes to see,
My silence corrupt and so, so cruel,
I’ll walk away into the deafening dark,
This mind that talks, these voices go,
No world is greater comfort than mine,
A step to take but an echo miles away,
For a moment before me everyone went,
For a minute just nothing but a pause,
A loudspeaker is all I need: a voice,
Give me hundreds and who would listen?
Smiles around but nothing behind,
The light that has lost its touch,
I’d rather wander through abyss alone,
A loudspeaker in my head is yelling,
Who curls up through the deepest woods,
Who looks up to the moon and sees nawt,
Sees himself within the dark: recoils.

Man’s musest isle

Here my deigns so struck but isn’t one too soon,
Who would be man but without their torments,
This walking dead that we call life,
I’m not light nor am I so dark,
Isn’t the sun too bright I’ll dim for a while,
Isn’t the moon too dark but I too am darker,
No, just walk along and I’ll be day.
My wrists twisted from words and ill thought,
This soothing sound of inner realm unheard,
Provide me reason to give you a thought too low,
All the moons destroyed and I alone,
A sun bearing but small flame is mine,
This simple blessing so easy to take,
Yet so easy to forget, let me sigh and drink,
Then slowly thought again that then became him man.

No bass to play

And then he’s in the room darkest and touched,
No song to squeeze, no rhyme to please,
As happened was the story mighty a man he launched,
Was there a splendid creation than the love between,
So sombre yet so sweet only for heaven to envy,
A blisséd sky, a beautiful sky, red and the moon narrow,
The gustle of that wind drew away. He thought loud and knew himself well.
Then awoke to find no melody to hear, no string to tune,
There was no bass to play down here,
A world up there, more tunes aloud,
Give me peace and I’ll give only love.

Virtue lost

I tell you my Lady but I am no better Saint,
Days to let you know that once so easy and free had become one, two and three,
A lesser heart crushes another,
A soft breeze crushes the stronger one to sea,
But how I come to you was no better,
Though how to sit and watch the fires part as I char through the anguish that becomes of it,
One lover bears another and explains his weight is twice the heart that pumps your blood,
Our follies are one, our pities so small,
The very breath I breathe only as acid could ever kill,
Bond with me here I said yet no task so nigh,
By the end he would sire more suns to glorify you than
YOU to bear his sons to fire him,
A past so meagre and foolish was one so black no eyes be seen,
But I’ll remember the night so long ago,
The man I was and could never be thus,
Then he’ll wander again through the site upon which he declared:
My fair Lady, here was new life to be made.