Solo Guitarist

The height of it all strong,
Like the nets grabs of fish,
These were no fish but water,
Each plankton scorned at sun,
Now each string of net plucked,
Each note grew loud, reeled in;
I sung the notes they sung behind,
Then they dragged me down,
At the ocean bed, departed here;
Relish my living name. Along, Above.
I was scared of my shell, I saw it new.
These are the words God bestowed.
They were yours, but now they're God's.
We walk through the shores like nothing,
To tell the stories like they were legend,
When two climbed Everest, frozen in love,
Each drop of icy tears became my wine,
When each glass dropped, so too did rain;
And when each wood stained and soaked,
I cracked the floor with flurry of anger,
And when I crouched, I saw light again,
When I looked beyoned the light,
I could only see within. The fall was harsh,
But no dates nor figs could satisfy;
The freedom was there, but I soiled it.
These are the times, they were my days.

And the World

And the stars fell, I so too did fall,
My Jupiter, how long you spin?
And the stars will fall, I shall fall,
And the waves shall sing, I shall sing,
The kepler belt: breathe. Barrier. Closed.
Or open, give might my meteor faling,
I am a spinning planet, just spinning.
I have no purpose. No past. No future.
I have the present being that I spin,
Whence I come I know not,
Thence I toward, I care not.
The stone that I am, the core that I bear,
It makes no difference; I am what I float.
I see a star beneath the stars, having glow;
Then I see the stars again, and wonder here:
Who are those in that slow blue hue?
Who lives there?
What are they doing?
Is there any life?
My skin so stressed it covets craters,
My skin so dry, it harbours no life;
Not even an eye, nor two; for they are dried,
I am excluded as a planet, yet still I spin,
I am told I am a dwarf, yet still I spin,
That was the time I turned into a planet,
For I am the beauty of unspoken apocrypha,
For I have seen the satelites that garner here,
I brought them near, to tell my story here;
Breathe. For that it is soon unto you I see,
That I remain a world unseen, lest I remain.
Whomever Roman, Persian, Greek. Give word.
So true are your astronomers wise looking ahead,
That my star was but a planet all along, shining.
Now breathe. Let us see: give me your best.


Tables full, all the dishes aloft;
Here the man awaits, named Craig;
I saw him first and saw him last,
The cherished smile, enlarged eyes,
A dashing look. A big guy, no doubt;
My eyes would wander opposite,
But his would cast itself downward,
Then I would ask whilst eating here,
Why the silence from him is so nigh;
He would ask that he always had a kink,
So I took a jar from my bag and set aside,
Looked upon he saw the need within,
I tamed this butterfly for a while now,
These are the ways we go about love,
When he placed it on my forehead
Those wings I saw wide now spread wide.
When he asked what I thought of it,
I then smiled, and this time, my eyes widened.

Towards Home

I was travelling through the stars, then I noticed a bright shimmer.
I saw the shimmer, and I set forth towards it. Not knowing where.
No other star would guide me to them, only that one shimmer.
Through unknown planets. One of coloured rock. One of ice.
I saw the submerging matter in others. What a sight! I would fall.
Then the red planet. What a sight! Then, I saw a planet blue.
No! Not just, but of green, sandy yellow, whitest snow. Grey.
I don't know what lies there, but I figure I should fade and land.
On the Eastern parts, so now my vessel is forefeit to the fold.
I walk, this air yea pure; now the sun I see is but just a lamp;
Who could live here? And where are the people? I am alone.
I saw passer-bys; their dress so queer, their figures so strange.
I shall conjure one for myself. Blend with them. Seek solace.

The walking, and the daring fright. No one knows me, none care.
I am not from the East, nor am I from the West, South, the North;
I am not from map's hence, nor am I of the land and nor the sea.
The books I read now do not become me, nor does the music.
What is this? The language I learnt so well, but still not kempt.
The streets so barren. The above so clear. Yet no stars seen;
Yeh, no stars are seen. But who's looking? Where are they?
Now I see the first reflection of myself. What a sight!
I see my faux hands; my faux face; my faux religion.
Who is this god? What is this? Can I see him, I ask?
They accuse me of mockery, and say I have no sight nor morals;
Then they say I have no religion, no God; and this I understood.
I then wonder who I am, and why I'm here. Why I'm the one apart.
I feel as a human, but I have come to realise I'm a monster.

The Sun continues to shine whilst my heart's in despair, 
But I only came to understand, not to torment myself.
I shall keep walking. I seek not those idolising themselves;
No, I seek the peace. I seek the connexion. I seek the light.
So whenever I'm feeling lost, I seek the light that dispels dark.
Not the Sun. Light. Light is the greatest magic that we have;
It comes from nowhere; from energy; and reverberates.
Light never goes out. It shall always diminish, and diminish;
Never zero. Never null. But always there, even through years.
So when I walk, I am walking in the steps of light unfolding.
That is my creed. But this place? My existence is here and nigh.
For I am home, and I am sung of light towards the light now high.

Incubo ergo Lamentum

Though starts with sleep, ending with none;
I give tale of neither sorrow nor gay a mind,
Hence muses, my mind yea creased enough;
For enough is it that I dwell, and think alone
When more my thoughts become my self,
In points I arrest my soul do dreams declare:
One night, those years ago, remembering so -
The widest wake winked a moon 'neath ground,
Blessed its ravine a drooping glow of white,
By whose softer rain did drew tears down its cheek,
As though fading, in each step a ripple would tear,
Though cool was air and mild an air breathed was I,
Surrounded by none but trees, crying its leaves away,
I saw the rusted oaks and birchs give drooping sap,
If I were an ant, I would surely have a beautiful ending,
But no, I am that I am, and so that is all, stood side a cart,
This girl approached and I asked what matter here:
She answered not, my thoughts gone awry;
This young girl, graced I figure not of the age,
Who was she? Exploited, decieved, I thought,
Extending my hand, I gave it freely, but she would not take,
A few seconds here were hours then; I was beckoned leave,
But no, it shall not be! Hind me was a mansion, I shall enter,
Each creek sunk my heart, each breath paralysed an heart,
If I had any, then I should confront her captor,
But I had all, I hid in a nearby cubicle, shivering and weeping.
Her footsteps could be heard, my heart would crack its glass,
Let its fumes depart from me, let its morphine take me,
If not a heartbreak, so kill me here. Let me die in my sleep!
But no, her opening of the door led me to the gate,
So I thought, but it was not. I could not fathom it,
She transported me from the nether to the whither
Unto which my bed still warm and there lay I as stone,
Still, she was there; her eyes so wide, gowned in white;
A scrutinising stare, still as petrified a rabbit's tail erect,
In this dark room, she was the brightest spectre unseen,
These past few hours have brought me here to this:
Cannot move; cannot speak; cannot tilt my head; nothing.
I could only groan, I can only breathe and stare,
After minutes of visual discourse, she walked slow,
Walked to the door, and still looking at me, waved,
Grabbing my door, slowly departed. I waved back.
Her leaving gave me back my senses, my voice, etc.
Well, muses come forth, and this they did,
Walking round my bed and into my wardrobe (and fro)
They walked, and they walked slow, walking round,
The spectres and the horned-beast would approach,
Breathe their stale breaths into me and kiss my cheek,
My drooping head would tear, a heart now beating slower
Could cherish a moment's rest, asking for respite, asking:
"Why do you do this to me? What fright! What is it with you?"
I am the flame, I am the creased soul whose gaps invite all,
Let them change me, let them mould me for dark or light,
But I am afraid, like in my childhood being guided away,
I have been haunted, and now even muses walk away.
Trees would not be bristling, nor sap for my sight beheld,
Though looking back, all these years, in just a few hours dream,
No sleep could give me, nor dream bestow such a memory,
That God hath sought in me to deliver my concept purposed.


Then you shall brush aside each star
Till only dark mounts your gaze,
Through each climb, no light be spared,
Let glimpse of the nearest world prepare
Even if the moon's glow were just a phase,
At last you breathe, but look from afar!
How far you've travelled, surely relieved,
But feign not a weeping heart to tear,
Live the breeze and feel the snow descend,
Whilst flakes kiss your skin: 'tis a God-send,
Though much I ask from above you so high,
Now then! your long face; all I ask is why?

Stray Bird

Related are those windows,
Like each would harbour a star,
Not a student yet, just a star,
Then the Sun would glide round,
Like the jesters around - subtle noise.
Heh, sounds are silent lest noise come,
Though this was no system, no galaxy,
I bring you to the beginnings whereof:

Everyday was a struggle for most,
Name one who struggles yet walks still,
Yet still walks was one fellow, brushing off;
Every hour seemed a torment, a minute more;
A second itches an arm, then fades by and again,
Soothe then still; smothered and fraught. Still,
A mind would race, a kiss would bite;
What started as mother's predicament erewhile
Now becomes her son's saviour meanwhile.

Whether it was Milton or Algebra,
Whether it was the Opium Wars or Faith,
None would reach his ear, no source:
Not even a reading, none so focal.

Fingers would self-pick.
Well? Aren't you going?
There a voice be heard.
Rise, and then you leave.

Each flight of stairs boundless,
Then the cool air strikes on ground,
The entrance parts an exit,
There he goes yond the gates,
Just a moment longer to privacy.

Meanwhile a teacher reads the news,
These are troubled times, he thought;
A sigh then a head drooping arcs,
When caught his gaze was his favourite:
"What's he doing?" he thought, pity, pity.
Like the drops of water dispersing, did steps.

When they enjoined on that mid afternoon,
The world would collapse asunder,
With each cheek pale with snow as light,
Then each word trembled like the thunder,
Whilst the snow blessed the pair with flaky gaze,
With much at hand, and the object in his hand,
With no reaction brought, this pedagogy asked:
"Need a hand?"
An eye grown cold; the other so soft,
Each thought conflicted and warred another,
When conscience spoke, this student replied:
"Just this one. I'm fine."

At whose nest we fathom brought new eggs,
A mother tending to such darling newborn,
Spoilt with life, creased with fate,
Then the breezes overtook them, so take flight;
The mountains eyed; the hills were dyed in gold,
These were the sights he saw till counsel come,
Awaiting the first lessons he learnt in life,
Indeed the toughest; but come swift, come hard;
That was when the clocks round back an hour,
But for him, it round forward to the new life.

These are the words related,
The windows sharp,
Each star so bright,
Now another once burnt out
Collapsed not to dwarf.
Nay, he became the supernova.

Now beyond the ten years,
Who would think his past,
Then sowed his grace with feud,
Till righteous come - ill-gotten lost?

Two Verses

There are words in these rhymes long,
They are long, but still as stars in night,
No. I have not consumed the drug of youth.
I have sicked myself cloy of the grace,
That even the greatest Zeus became ash,
Where his mount became His Mount.

I speak of the stars, then of the breeze,
It is we who are tested and sought depraved,
But are we not depraved, if so then prove:
My grief is that 'tis not the grief despaired,
But I am beyond all that can ever be repaired,
I breathe twice so I can smell thrice through stars,
But when alone, my aching thoughts are one depart.

I said two verses, but actually tis three,
These are the words;- they spill free:
Now sober the art is rank with white,
My soul is cast but you know what fight,
When the carrier of dust dispels your storm
At which point a reason comes to sing thy form.

Mound of Some Golden Leaves

Relish my gold, succumb its age glory new,
Like sponge, sink through this giving light,
I spelt my name in gold now walking away,
Each letter then sold an image upon return,
With each I counted the days and the hours,
Then I counted each hair that held to my skin,
With each light glowed, so too did my hair,
But when I spelt my name again, I lost all.
These are the travels that hiked my way,
And never did lose my sight of clearer breeze
Lest such a chill would pain my chest,
Though each climb did hurt a while,
Each step travelled was a new name revealed,
So when I looked back from mound I stood
I saw the leaves formed from all my hairs.

Tempered Storm

Sing, glorious waves. Mock the land now wet,
Deposit your shells, cast the sand further near,
Nor will no moon dare calm your speedy wave,
And the waves still sink mountains by sky's delight,
Who knew then that melody would attract a crab,
Who'd let each wave crash upon his shell to furore,
Then sunk beneath the waves then escorted out,
Belated were the thanks torn apart by crack of dawn,
When all sounds alike are but waves truly strike,
There is but a simple whisper beneath each crash,
Whose light above cannot steal a sombre tone.