Goodbye Lucifer

This tiresome life, it must end today
The existence of enlightenment must die
Give me, oh knight, the pleasure of ignorance
On this day, I pledge to thy everlasting joy

I am ready to revel in the opium of faith
Will surrender the mind and follow the blind
I cease to exist except as a member of thy ministry
If only you Promise to never let me think again

For I have tasted the forbidden fruit
Believed in Lucifer for so long
I am ready to return to the fold
If only you would increase your hold

Ghost of Christmas

A few broken bottles, still loitering in the yard
Crumpled sheets of newsprint; flyways
Scattered weeds, some flowers stoutly remain
Hark; the cries, infrasound

Rotting in the sun the stepped on carcass of a lizard
Abstract painting, stark on a mottled canvas
Ghostly somnolence in the air
Muffled screams of shattered dreams

Testimony to a past nobody remembers
Shades of violet fading into gray
Outward aggregation all happy and gay
Shadows in my mind; fears arched behind

Ignored by you, untended by me
Languishing in neglect
The visual in ice
And the ruins swept up by time,

All swept up by time.

How To Save A Life

Step one: you say we need to talk, he walks, you say sit down it's just a talk.

He smiles politely back at you, you stare poiltely

right on through.

Some sort of window to your right

As he goes left and you stay right

Between the lines of fear and blame

And you begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend

Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night

Had I known how to save a life

Let him know that you know best

Cause after all you do know best

Try to slip past his defense

Without granting innocence

Lay down a list of what is wrong

The things you've told him all along

And pray to God he hears you

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend

Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night

Had I known how to save a life

As he begins to raise his voice

You lower yours and grant him one last choice

Drive until you lose the road

Or break with the ones you've followed

He will do one of two things

He will admit to everything

Or he'll say he's just not the same

And you'll begin to wonder why you came

Toe the line?

Resisted the urge, there is no thorn in this rose,
Stared down the fiery ball in the sky, it isn’t the only truth
Derided the scorn, for belief is supreme I suppose
Posited against the obvious, logic may not always be sooth

Jaded and flogged, it held its form
Evidence never marred or held sway
Atrophied and worn, never evoked the norm
All cynicism and worldliness kept at bay

Yet, its raining acid once again,
Seeping into old scars, burning some anew
Carcasses of thought strewn around in pain
Bleached bones of trust are all that’s left in lieu

Death of a Poet

We have to kill her
I know, but she refuses to die, I have tried everything.

What all have you tried?
Sprayed her brains over the back wall, she patiently gathered the tissue and brought it whole again. A gruesome result but living nevertheless. Ground her heart to a fine powder dust, she collected everything and kneaded it back to life. Mistrust, harsh words, broken promises and indifference I have tried it all. She still just keeps coming back for more.

Hmmm, what about banality? You tried that?
No. How do I do that?

Simple, she has illusions of grandeur, doesn’t she? Let’s dole out the ordinary. She won’t be able to withstand being treated like the lowest common denominator. Take all she is giving, acknowledge it, respect it, be grateful even and then pretend its not worth anything at all.

What's the novelty in that?

Novelty lies in the fact that she never thinks it could happen to her. She thinks she will die in pools of glory and blazes of color. Her end spawning a legion of thought in a million  minds. She will never guess that she can be left to waste away in obscurity. Just a number on a list, unclaimed and undistinguished. After all, what is so new about a man sleeping with a girl and forgetting to call?

Shelled and Chewed

He made a car, never put an engine in it, you see it was never meant to run. A car, a beautiful car even a perfect car but only, he knew it would never run. He auctioned the car, sold it as a dream and all the time he knew it was never meant to run.

She, a hopeful girl bought the car. Captivated by its beauty and intoxicated with its perfection. Blinded by the paint. Him explaining the merits of its superior engineering. The curves feeling like they were created for her. She put her life savings and bought the car.

Of course, it never ran. She still feels the curves with her fingers, still basks in the paint, and again and again looks at its pedigree. Passers by pity and ridicule her by turn. Bedraggled, homeless, coaxed into the sun, her burnt out visage still stares at the empty shell that ensures that the car was never meant to run.

Dont ever show you care

There is this you know how
if I could go back in time and wipe my life clean
I would
Just so I dont carry any baggage with you

But I am old and worn and sad and lost
the promise of a dream almost fulfilled and lost

If I could round out the edges that experience has honed
I would
Just so they dont dig into you when you hold me tight

But I have been around the park and on the bend
too many cracks and wounds that cant be mend

If I could look in the mirror and not see your face
I would
So I would not need to walk with my eyes closed

But I have seen more than I care to know
for i am just too much a reflection of you

If I could erase that night in the ruin
I would
So I would not want to close in on my reality and go to sleep within

But I have the memory of your touch and smell of the dust
And the smoke from your lips on mine has formed a crust

If it has to be this way dont ask me anymore how I am
My broken thoughts and pathetic rends
Wandering alone in soulless dens
reaching for your hand not finding it there
Running hard, not looking back, staring ruin, burning the brain

Just never ask me anymore how I am

You will never Know

I hope you dont see this today
for tomorrow it will only be a heap of fetid ashes
dampened by the rain
trod upon by stray dogs
lying in the corner of the street swept up by the garbage van

Lucky to be spared the details of how I came to this
Not hearing the last jumbled thoughts breathing their last,
Not see the slow crawl of the rot spread through my inert limbs

You will never see the dogs chewing out the remaining bones,
the plume of smoke rising from the heap
the morning birds feasting on the ants swarming on my remaining dregs

Be spared the agony
Of the searing heat of pain
That will still emanate from the remains

For tomorrow it will still only be a day
like any other in your life
after having cast me out into the night
Tomorrow you will still awake believing that you were right

THE THORN BIRD

There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain.... Or so says the legend.

Colleen McCullough

No other way...

Dear Heart,

Why did you choose this way? If you wanted to end it with me I would not have clung on. Why did you have to do it this way?

All I wanted, was to know how I hurt you the first time, so I do not commit the same mistake this time. I wanted to grasp what made us part in the first place so I could stop it from happening once again.

If justice is to be had by all why not by me? I mistrusted you and you were mad at me. When you did the same, did I not even merit an apology?

Your facts, so lethal, so final, never once did you question your conclusion. Never once did you give me a chance to defend myself. A sentence passed without a trial. Tied to a post and pelted with scorn, I cant even run and hide away from it all.

You dear heart were so precious to me, why did you choose this way to end it with me?

Torn shreds, Broken threads

When I spoke with you, I got the distinct sensation you were far away.
Our speeches lapsing into banality
Stench of dead thoughts assailing my breath
But I tried to revive our earlier clarity

I shouldered the conversation till I could find nothing else to say
the mockery of the past, in every moment of the present
unclean and dishonest,
I wish I had known that all feelings were now absent

I tried to invoke the magic of yesterday
electric intense passion fusing merging together
finding each other in shared sparks of ecstacy
All to no avail and insipid rather

I hung up on you, but the misery continued to stay
The dart of distrust had found its mark
slowly spreading its poison
and terror throughout the dark

I told you I loved you and you had nothing to say
I felt unclean, mucky and sorrow furrowed my brow
I sat in a hush, not knowing how to react
I wish I had known then what I know now.

Bleached Bones, Tired Thoughts

I am distorted from reality right now
Questioning
Take it forward or take a bow?

What we have
What we had
Are they just the bleached bones of a passion, now?

Words so throbbing with pain,
Thoughts so poignant
The wounds open, raw, infected
Can we turn them around, now?

Right now that you have me
Is it all that you dreamed it would be?

Right now; Right now;
When the fiber of your skin is so real
The feel of your lips is so near
The ridges on your nose so clear

Now, what is it that I fear?

I Tried....

...to get through to you


and make you see how much I care for you.
you choose however to wallow
a path I cannot follow

I was taught
long ago
to count the joys; and
to let go

the ball was in your court
so I cant play
adieu, my heart
this misery I cannot keep at bay

adieu my heart, adieu my muse;
I pray we meet at phillipi

On Solitude

My loneliness, what makes me really lonely,

Is that I can't feel by my side a single will to halt this drift to ruin,
To get to the root of loneliness, to join the rest of the world.
That's all.

We are all Modern Day Ophelias in our own way....

Dressed in a white nightgown flowers strewn in her hair: vulnerable, poetic, beautiful and passionate. My name is Ophelia, lush, ripe, fecund and whole. Oozing sensuality, igniting your wildest dreams, beyond your imagination. You are possessed, captivated, cant get enough of her. Every fantasy you ever imagined but tucked away as too wayward, every desire you had but left unarticulated it all seems to be just a touch away. If only you could reach out. She is a vision, delineated yet smudged on the edges.


Isn’t this the type of woman most men are attracted to? The madness and uninhibited passion removed from worldly experience, given up to the most sensual pleasures of the senses and indulging the mind. A woman who reflects back at you exactly what you want. Worships you, adores you makes you feel like a MAN.

Madness however is never far from Ophelia. She worships, only because she expects to be worshipped in return. She lavishes her attention on you because in turn she gets yours. Stewed in her own thoughts, reality is a rude shock. She lives in a cloud floating above the mortal ground. How many fancies can there be, how many flights?

Because the madness is only a refuge that men take from their logical lives. Surrender themselves to magic only to withdraw from it once the sylph asks too many questions. To go back to your lives, touched and bemused not knowing what came over you. To sanity, home hearth and goodness.

Ophelia, poor Ophelia, driven insane by yet another dream that he walked with her only to abruptly leave. Fuelled every desire, answered every wish and then woke up. She is left to her melancholy, the blinding pain and the yawning emptiness.

Delete, Stamp, Destroy

Delete the number, delete the million texts, delete delete delete! Stamp out his existence from my life.
How many times?
Wonder why I ever put myself through this?

One week that’s all it was! Am I really that fragile?

Fragile was the attraction. The thoughts expressed. The compliments. All lost in that one awkward moment. That moment in which fumbling, a fear expressed. Maybe, could have done it better or maybe could have lived with the fear.

Maybe, if it wasn’t this it would have been something else. Equally fleeting, equally meaningless but just as powerful. Wrecking hopes wishes and desires that had been fuelled in a mutual ecstasy of feeling someone so close.

Another sickness to be cured. Antibiotics for the mind. The cure provided the sickness himself.

Nights of woe, self doubt, perishing agony, hmmm why did I ever think I was rid of you? Words we bandied passion, attraction, connection. Tell me how in one fumbling moment i negated them all. How?