Dust and trickle

How do I do this again?

Oh yeah, one word at a time

Find the stream and gain some momentum

Oh, don’t forget to rhyme

It’s like riding a bike

Oh and breathe, don’t forget to breathe

Dust off the dirt from the blade

Oh how mighty is the pen

Sigh… 

It depends… 

On the sword? On the pen? 

Or perhaps the hand

That decides how much will drip

From the edge or the tip

It only takes one heart to siege an art attack

Takes a strong spine to hold back

It takes one brain to feign a storm

And one crown to adorn

But don’t forget your breath

And don’t forget the rhyme

Don’t forget your checks

And stick between the line

Only if you’d like

Only if it pleases your eyes

Time is a beach

Watching the world pass by
My my, how time flies by
One minute you’re watching popeye
Next minute the greys in your hair pop by
Where does it all lead? The sum of all dreams
The hours all bleed to a collage of themes
Genre-bending, seemingly never-ending
Till we’re flower-sending when vessels empty
They say the treasure is the attempt
But no medals for content
No honour in contempt
The flavour is in the scent
Fleeting moments in a vapour
Ink vanishing on the paper
As it flies in the wind
To the skies it imprints
The light sinks in my eyes
Playing tricks in my mind
Watching the time slide by
As I wave bye-bye

Breathe and flow – Fisher

The end of silver became the birth of gold
A severed liver at the end of a rope
The bait in the river, the bend of the pole
A starving fisher waiting to go home

The life of a human, in a world misunderstood
He dreams of a Toucan, maybe dreams of two
The wings on his back can get him through
No matter what land, he finds what is true

The end of silver birthed the rise of gold
The same to the weaver, just threads to sow
So they hang in the waters, not minding the snow
Waiting for another bite, so the fisher might head home

Merry Winter

I’m dreaming of a nuclear winter
One where everything is grey
I’m dreaming of a nuclear winter
With radiating snowflakes

We will dance till our lungs give in
Across deserted landscapes of thick grey linen
Adults don’t have to go to work, kids don’t have school
In a way, when you think of it, everyone’s dreams have come true

I’m dreaming of a nuclear winter
One where everything is grey
I’m dreaming of a nuclear winter
With radiating snowflakes

I’m dreaming of a nuclear winter
That would bring forth the fall of social media
Maybe I’d even get to speak to my neighbour
Civilization is better with a nuclear winter

Dreaming of Dragons

I sold slivers of my soul to serpents
Spitting salacious statements about the scent of success
As they slithered and slid on scapes of sizzling sand
My sunken soles searing as I struggled to stand

Don’t thou dare delve into despair
Said the dragon, the dark defender
The delays in thy destiny are derived from the audacity of thy dreams
The depth of doubts only derivations of the dungeons within

I was told not to thread the tracks that trail the serpent’s tail
Toes slowly submerging into the sands of space
Demi dragon or semi snake?
Such a swell of atoms for such trivial stakes

Damned are those that do
Doomed are those that don’t
The darkness drapes the dead
As dawn escapes in threads

Defiance of the dark

We are all prisoners to this reality
So, why don’t we make a break for it?
Claw through that tunnel to insanity
What do you say, ol’ pal? Keen to dig?

There’s something beyond this dimension
Something vast, it must be
The rest of the world is beyond this wall
There has to be more to the story

So, old friend, what do you say?
The reality out there could be darker
But I yearn to feel alive again
To break this monotony, to die faster

Let’s plot this path to salvation
Lest we become dead like the furniture
Hell, let’s dig our ditch to damnation
What do you say, ol’ pal?
Yes, let’s ride this road to redemption
It seems the options are to live lesser or die faster

Her name is Beauty

What does it mean to be truly beautiful?
Is it in the things we see? The things we hear?
Or just the things we experience
A moment that seems to freeze itself
A moment that captures itself
A moment whose very state challenges our state of being
A moment that forces us to redefine what it means to be alive

We live so many moments in a haze of subconscious actions
But when it strikes us, our souls are awoken from our monotonous slumber
As if to remind the soul that it is alive
And we hold our breath because we ourselves are frozen in time
Unshackled from the nagging pulse of clocks
And we willingly submit ourselves to the moment
That complex emotion of being free from time yet trapped in a moment
All wrapped into one question, what is beauty?

Is it the souls of painters spilling into drops of smeared mathematics?
Delivered to our optical nerves by the wonders of quantum mechanics
Or the collective consciousness of an orchestra radiating a fragrance of vibrations through the room
Arriving to knock at our eardrums and we respond with an mmmmm
Or the explosions on our taste buds when we have a bite of that “I must have more”
Oh the flavours, oh the temperature, oh the texture

Is it something we humans choose to observe and quantify?
Or was beauty inherently made to be observed and quantified
Can’t be captured, can’t be defined, devoid of time
Like a dream
An experience that even the gods dare not discriminate against
A force to be reckoned with

Sometimes I wonder whether she even existed before the invention of senses
Was the universe dancing away its beautiful soul to an empty auditorium?
Or maybe practising, practising behind closed doors
Tirelessly, dedicatedly, passionately waiting for an audience
And
Indeed every day she puts on a great show
A magnificent choreography of breathtaking performances
A round of applause for the universe,
Everything there is
Everything there was
Everything there ever will be
Beauty!

Beauty pageant for Giants (2015)

Beauty pageant for giants, oh what a sight
They walked on the airport runway so you can really call them fly
Heads up in the clouds, oh what a height
Clapping up some thunder on a drizzling Tuesday night

So the models were skinny but the air was thinner
Those beanstalks held the spotlights hanging over
Their footprints filling up with water from the sky
Leaving pools for drunken teenagers to dip on warm summer nights

Beauty pageant for giants, oh what a sight
And not a single mortal got an invite

Death of a star

Sinful sinful sinful poetry
I lay in the field of a serene cemetery
The death of a star caused a hole in the night
Stole a bit of light from the darkness of the sky
The smell of souls fill the air
The calm cold breeze never felt so near
The devil holds their trembling hands
Strings tied to their feet to make them dance
The music of the whistling winds
The gifts of their wrongful deeds
Though their eyes empty, memories last
Time dare not thread upon their path
I hear them scream for winter’s leaves
But they were gone with autumn’s breeze
And behind the cover of the mist
The innocent ones lay in eternal bliss
The eerie air full of despair
The fruit of solitude that immortals bear

Sinful sinful sinful poetry
I lay in the field of the serene cemetery
God rolls the dice, the devil flips his coin
I rise from a bed of poisoned thorns
I laugh at the irony of my fate
Time tiptoes by as the devil waits
Serve my heart on a silver plate
Part filled with love, part filled with hate
Offer myself as a winning prize
Then watch time and death race for my life

Grey (2012)

So last week my dreams went grey
No sound, no colour just silence and shade
It felt lonely and cold and I tried to shout
But only printed text came out of my mouth
I didn’t know what I said so I turned around
And I saw the words “HELP!” fade into the background
I then woke up to a world of colour
A beautiful puzzle of pigmented squalor

The next night it started to fade
All the black turned to dark shades of grey
And it got worse night after night
No sign of black just shades of grey and white
It got harder to read the words I struggled to say
Within moments they faded away
All I could do was wake up to a world of colour
A beautiful puzzle of pigmented squalor

Last night my dreams turned white
Haunting silence, I heard no thoughts
I took one step and I kept floating or falling
There was really no way of telling
I tried to cry and the streams were endless
I tried to fall but all I felt was emptiness
I couldn’t wake up to a world of colour
No beautiful puzzle of pigmented squalor

So I wandered, existing in this world
Trying to be sane, missing my thoughts
When I stopped fighting and accepted fate,
I found peace in this place
Then I felt little black drops drizzle on my face
And saw my heart beating colourful waves
And they opened my eyes to a world of colour
A hell of a beautiful puzzle of pigmented squalor