You bathed in my energy,
cleansing you broken heart,
swimming in the river of life,
done but not apart.
So pretty in pink,
and fully covered,
you reached out far,
to the wicked stars.
Fearless on stormy seas,
stormy on quiet nights,
we raced head to head,
aimlessly.
Paris in the spring,
no one would win,
the game of life,
no wishes, all demands.
In the lap of the gods,
we get what we deserve,
in the lap of the gods,
only the silent call is heard.
Sometimes
you run out of words
silence takes over
silent
until your breath
and heartbeat
becomes the voice
whispering
you need no words
you need no words
you need no words
and then
and only then
you are at peace
I used to travel the world, sitting in my grandfather’s lap. He had an old Texaco map, and I an imaginary friend.
The world was very flat back then, his fingers cold, so stiff so hard. Turning pages, going off somewhere new, with Amelia by my side.
The travelling did eventually stop, old age and poor health got the better of him. I lost my way the day that he passed. Will she ever come back to finish her task? To guide the lost boy back on his path.
Go gently with me as
my bones are brittle and
my heart is cracking more
by every passing day with
the sound of little feet
fading further and further
into the shadows of that
we perceive as real and
closer and closer to the edge
of that which is only dream.
In fire flaming skywards
we were soldiers standing proud
partners in crime unimaginable
in life and death we are
rigor and mortis
monks treading path of
righteousness
Pax Vobiscum as
Daniel’s dreaming
the virgin is coming
of age
Please don’t tell me why,
keep me in the dark,
I’ve done so many foolish
things, outlawed once – afar
Please don’t tell me when,
keep me in the dark,
timing never mattered much
as long as we were apart
Please don’t tell me how,
keep me in the dark,
but do defuse the mains
and switch on the gas supply
Please don’t tell me what,
keep me in the dark,
lock the place down,
and hide those rusty keys,
then light the last of your
cigarettes to finally
set me free
All is not Black
but oft
turning White
as Day follow
Night
Wandering the path
of Twilight
Am I the Pawn
or the King
in this game
of Chess – In this
Game of Life
