Oh, glory to the well and able,
Those who say are just ‘fine’,
Amidst all those texts to table
Dare then to say they are fine.
Oh, irony to lick the arse of fools
Is muted haste for art to dine,
Whether fine or not, these bools
With which we cast ourselves
Shall never cry mercy for fools,
For they see the true innings delve
Before they’re conjured. Glory few
Those able to truly admit their taste,
So given this taste of irony now drew. Read More

All the Faded Glass

In utter disgust she could only tell,
This mirror her weapon lest she fell
Soon whispered the light in meagre rays,
Nor could she see herself in another way,
The damage was done. All the shards flew.
Her object of worth this glass she threw;
Ere the mirror froze so soon it cracked,
And the glass well struck soon came back
In quiet tones of sound no ear forget,
Lest thrown from room to room to set
Her heart in agony yet still in love,
All the oxytocin and endorphins above
Her waist soon bled in veins to pierce, Read More


Though his past had come too soon:
These walls once he knew grew with time,
The lamp shades cast a mirror of doubt so few
And never did his clock once stop to watch.
The night mingled in fear and in angst,
Music and respite mingled his thoughts too late
Where enemies long past soon took up arms against,
And with haste had his ego with thought intense,
Could sooner have destroyed him without future regained;
This man art I spell his name once for love and hate,
I cannot for the life of me come to you so late,
That I shall bestow Freedom for all who art return, Read More


And at the darkest gloom was holy night,
At the longing thought was all but shade,
In the bitter wake he comes but snares,
In bitter tale he could hardly weep,
And in the salty tears, there was only thought,
But in only thought, only gloom despaired,
Though gloom was known his heart can tell,
Once known before was now in doubt,
As though it were a dream foretold,
In more he dreamt was now nightmare,
Though less he slept more he dreamt,
So dark his thoughts he cannot tell,
So wise his heart who knew what knew,
When man comes here, a man calms down,
Thus when he slept the world comes near,
So when he dies there shall be peace.

Her Realisation

All the illusions at waiting glass,
The road in steady wait at last,
In sounds new the concrete slab,
The walking steps in echoing fall,
A lingering thought in bitter waste,
A woman’s life in a single pill,
Tears silent breeze to take,
Hue in light of mirror forsake,
Surreal, the casting charms to soar,
Ere the head bows Fate’s disgrace,
Her purpose soon come to grace.


And all the trees,
And all the air,
And all the grass,
And all the leaves,
And all the stars,
And all the land,
And all the sea,
And all the waves,
And all the wind, Read More

Running from the Sun

Whilst running from the Sun,
The fields a silhouette cloak,
The trees felled from the step,
Ere the nightingales weep
An eager passing through the fold,
Let the moon collide with the Sun,
Emit every rock and dust sky high,
Scatter all for starladen daylight,
So that as you run towards the shade,
You can look back and observe Her rise
Sans fear of sight of yours be blind.
See the bold Sun handcraft life anew
To whatever passing this day we mourn
Shall rise forth the Sun the next morn.