"Calm"

Light shines - quite unstoppably - through a blind.
Things are too bright to see.
It must be aware of this irony.

A screen finds little words.
Sent by a dark lady -
She is short with me. The light will find her too.

I admire a melody in an envious way.
Inside an audience sings pleasure.
A young girl smiles on a page upon a table.
I observe prettiness - for a measure.

My presence is upon a pleasant seat.
The air is fresh - and it is hardwood.

I am inspired to nothing.
Thus old souls run through me-
And I am engulfed by a not-sadness.
There is this strange brevity.

"The Hiding Place"

Thoughts peer through the shadows,
Occasionally pausing on memory,
I shake my head as if to say
'Someone else', that was not me.

In my mind I change a thousand times,
A thousand more with every second passed,
A new masquerade built for each occasion,
But nothing's meant to last.

A musician hangs in the corner while
A scholar sits quietly below.
A crying child is curled beneath it all,
And has never learned to grow.

"Tragedy"

One mind on fire at the end of the world,
The venoms hiss, the reptile uncurls.
The creature is bitten and hangs now limp,
-A low life harlot, a powerless imp.

The pungent green and black poisons swirl,
A man is protested the babe' of a girl,
Any other form approached he'd not be afeared,
-Blood lust and loss leaves thoughts left unclear.

Your actions come not a moment too soon,
Not a moment too late,
Not at all,
Nothing.

There's not a man's house in which
I have no a servant kept.
There's not a man's which does not keep
A servant's eyes on me.

There's not a man's house,
Not a place at all,
Not at all,
Nothing.

Stolen! - The Life of the Building!
Where is Duncan?

"Atheist"

I stall a little longer - no hurry,
He thinks it is a dilligence or a love,
And I suppose he may be right,
For I know my own reasons no better than anybody
Who knows not the cause of anything much.

But coming to my comprehension,
There is the reason I would give (true or not),
They rush off for cliques and communities,
To mix, to return, to mix once more,
In a neverending cycle, free of monotony.

I have a different agenda.
One I hate to think.
I rush off to nothing,
Only a silent empty room.

"Father"

I remember,
When I was younger, my father,
His dissatisfactions.

We would tremble, as he
(Popping his head around the door)
Snarled at us, for failing
To be as He wanted of us.

Now, as I am older,
The snarl holds little threat.
His constant displeasure
Is merely monotonal work

Of a worn out engine which,
(Always in use)
We never came around
To changing.

That snarl is not
That we are something other
But that He, with His dissatisfaction,
Is something He wants us not to see.

"Outsight"

Here is a little crowd,
In which everyone is exactly the same,
All just replicas, the grand machine of life
Places before you, for you to see,
And yet you haven't even opened your eyes.

He will go on to be rich,
She, to have an affair (with him?)
He will break down and ruin his 3rd marriage,
And none of these three will succeed.

Are you beginning to comprehend?
Take is slowly - baby steps.

He had more bruises than any child should,
She has scars, on the inside,
They buried their lives a long time ago
In a black lake, far from here.
He forgot himself since he got inside.

Myself?
I have nothing to give.
Or too much, in fact,
But even the greatest gifts
In greatest excess tend
To be troublesome to recieve.

My tale is long and lonesome,
About things nobody else can see - unless
You look through the familiar faces
To piece up an image of me.

"A Death In The Family"

Wastage - of two, of five -
That's seven now, now eight, now nine.
Merely seeds - now they're planted,
Fell from their trees too soon.

There ought to be one more seed,
Amongst them in wet soils.
A precipitation, a pathetic fallacy,
A single, solemn sympathy.

The tree, would it grow elsewhere
More suited for its wood
(now saturated) -
It is a boat amidst mountains.

It seeks water,
To no avail
(Despite current abundance
of the fluid).

The liquid rests on the surface,
To which the shallow roots of others
Thirstily do crawl -
Its deeper roots which burrow
May find nothing moist at all.

"Battle"

There were ten-thousand soldiers
At war in my head,
Commanders, their regiments,
But now they're all dead.

It ended the same way
Most wars tend to,
With nothing changed,
And nothing new,

Except for the loss of ten-thousand lives,
Felt only by families, children and wives.
You can't say the accomplished feat was small,
There were ten-thousand soldiers...
We killed them all.

"Quest"

"I think it's time I was leaving now",
Beneath Orian, North, and Plough,
The fields that grip us to our bones
Pull us down to the unknown.

The world of dreams, and succesful life,
Which gave way to a world of strife,
And failure, in the stead of success,
Illusion gave away to less.

Escape remains so crystal clear,
In tiny drops, my sweetened dear,
The vision of beauty, my coloured song,
To whom my heart is dear despite long

Distances which may lay between.
A life of more than seventeen,
I am brought o'er hundred leagues,
Unlike the young love which fatigues.

All this and I am with her now,
She smiles politely, frowns a wrinkled brow,
"I think it's time I was leaving now."

"Riddle"

There is nothing that can be done,
But accept who we are,
And try to ignore these feelings,
Hidden not so deep, nor far.

He dictates as though his knowledge
Is perfect, and infallible,
Yet he is human, like those he calls flawed,
Be they peasant, prince, or papal.

I question him not - No need
For needless quarrel with a friend,
Though before I give in and agree,
I will sooner meet my end.

To sacrifice a reason,
Causing such deeds that you choose,
You conquer yourself, yet in winning,
That being the reason, you lose.

I however do not accept this,
Such loss was, from beginning, in sight,
But winning just so I could lose,
In some way, makes me right.

"Narcissist"

You sneer at me because I'm confident.
"Arrogant", the word of the hour.
Or week. Or year.
Quite frankly, I don't care.

Arrogance is what people who only think
They are better than they are have.
This does not apply to me.
These people are not as good as me.
Arrogant people are people who wish they were me.

Not a single part of you can arguably be
Even remotely comparable to me.
I know, you can't pretend I don't see
You envy, you hate, you wish you were me.

A lower class in society
Strays by and accidently touches me.
Disgusting creature, I'd never stoop so low,
Even born in his family I'd still grow.

No physical form can fully take me,
But I grow to the infinite beyond what you see.
Even Death himself only wishes to take me
from purest desire - inadequate envy.

"Forgiveness"

I knew you would do this.
I knew, someday, this time would come.
I wrote about it.
A little letter to myself, in a code,
Nobody knew it but me.

Now you've done it, and perhaps,
If I am lucky, you'll regret it.
Then when you climb back up those rocks,
Slowly pull your way to the top,
You'll find me there wait, glad you returned.

Glad.
Because I will throw you off again.

"Letter Of Foresight"

Face away, Face him,
Laughing in my face.
Smile away, Smile to him,
My smile left no trace.

Turn your back, back to him,
There's no coming back.
Get up front, front of him,
Full frontal attack.

I hope you're happy
With what you're turning to,
'Cos same as you've just done,
He'll abandon you.

Play a laugh, Play to him,
Play it up for me,
Shy away, Seraphim,
One abandons me.

Cast down, this hateful town
Will burn your heart away,
You brought it on yourself,
When you turned away.

He doesn't care what
You're going through,
Once he's taken all you are,
He'll find someone new.

"Persephone"

It should be winter.
There's a chill, and that dark silence
Exists somewhere. It should be removed
From its cage.

All this life, this abundance,
It is harmful to me.

The streets should be empty of souls.
The darkness should weigh down heavy,
And I should feel the cold ghosts of fog
Pressing up close, to drain the heat from me.

It is certain I feel no such thing.
I feel almost nothing at all.
I hear nothing in the call
Of the stray breeze through occasional leaves.

The breath moves thin through me,
Like the ice-cold daggers of winter wind.
Blood flows as melancholy waters
That barely keep the river running.

The light burns my eyes,
And my reflection smiles back at me,
It knows what has to be done.

I wish it was winter again.
Surrounded by people and not a single soul,
Shrouded in darkness, the mists and the cold.

"Adolescent Scribbling"

There is a soldier.
He is off duty, and look - he is sprawled
Across his place of rest - sleeping, while permitted.
This cannot last long - and doesn't.
Hear how he is called to attention,
Arising immediatly.
There is a duty to be done,
A situation grasped suddenly,
The pressure builds up around him,
And a greater force within.

The force reaches its peak, and suddenly,
He loses control. He shoots.
An eruption of bullets.

Just a quick note here...

For this week, or possibly just from hereafter until further notice, I'm going to start posting my "Juvenile/Youth/Adolescent/etc." poetry - admittedly due to my shortage of my recent work - I still have some remaining poems I could put up, but some of them are appearance based and I'm worried they'll end up being skewed in some way, and some of them are simply parts of a larger whole, which I have not yet finished.

So, I suppose I'll just have to speed up my writing process, so that by the time I've finished mooching from my back-log of work, I have lots of more "Mature" works to get on with posting. At least I have the novelty of not having any audience (which I am aware of, at any rate) to placate, so at least I don't have to worry about letting anybody other than myself down.
Sweet!

"Palpitations" - written 16/03/08

How long before I get caught out?
How long can I tempt fate like this?
How long before the world sees
That something's wrong,
and catches up with me?

Every night the same thing comes,
Every night before I sleep it stuns,
Every night this feeling grips me,
Insomnia addiction,
Attacking me with fear.

I awake like each new day is a gift,
I awake to the defibrillator's grift,
I awake wide eyed, panicked,
Breath barely breaking
Into lungs I feel aching.

Adrenalin flows in my veins, in my head,
Adrenalin flows tossing me from this bed,
Adrenalin flows, fighting, flying now,
Can't remain calm,
Sweat pools in palms.

"-and i thought of you" written 26/11/2007

-and a world moved,
i forgot to move too,
so i've been lost,
trapped out here,
somewhere beyond orbit, -

-and still tied to a time,
when sun came through a pane,
when we would lose them,
trap ourselves behind closed door,
just to be alone, -

-and we would talk,
so much we forgot to stop,
losing ourselves utterly,
trapping us in it,
until they brought separation, -

-and knocking so furious,
"have you forgotten the time?"
the meeting was lost,
we locked together in trap,
before we would part again, -

-and seasons passed,
somehow forgetting us,
losing old memories,
trapped in lives,
until i needed rescuing, -

"Situation" - written 25/01/08

To be, or not to be,
What is the difference?
What is life without death,
Or death without life?

There can be no silence
Without the sound of speech,
And no love,
Without the ability not to love.

Mourn the loss of life,
Celebrate the release of death,
Enjoy the noise of silence,
Fear the emptiness of speech.

Surely every thing
Is only part of a whole,
Opposites are exactly the same,
With no difference at all.

Call me Pandora then,
For I have followed her path,
I opened up the box,
And I must face its wrath.

"A Muse" - written 21/02/08

For Maria

Over the night,
and Out of sight,
A whispering cry,
A besotted goodbye,
She's left to serve others,
Her sisters and brothers.

Thinks of herself last,
After all other cast
Have left with her word
To the stage, to be heard.
Only when she's alone
Will she script her own,

Yet ever more come on crutch,
Seeking her touch,
Their Creativity spent,
They think her heavenly sent,
Though in her mind she fell,Was not sent, into hell.

"While I Am Not There" - written 17/11/07

Such a crystal drop,
Such a fragrant scent,
Such a transient dream
In which my days are spent.
A waking pristine picture passes,
Each thought turned to sacred masses.

The flow shatters my scene,
A tear, a river, a lake, a sea,
Kingdom-devouring waters,
Bringing truth back to me.
Every dream is transient, fake,
Sinking to oblivion, angels break.

Pandora's box is full of hope,
Filled neatly to the brim,
Yet just one drop come pouring out,
Even on Seraphim,
Will chain all 6 wings tightly bound,
And tear the creature to the ground.

Now all these dreams are dead,
I see you are not mine,
I observe this paradisiac beauty,
With perception fine,
Yet still oblivious, you hear another tune,
Outside of myself; I am not your Moon.

"Hive" - written 10/03/08

My mind is the hive,
It's swarming.
My thoughts are the bees,
They're teeming.
My goal is the honey,
It's sweetening.

Through hundreds of eyes,
I'm seeing.
Through my childrens lives,
I'm creating.
Through my soldier's deaths,
I'm replacing.

I hope beyond hope that the honey comes,
Before death arrives swiftly, in the cold months.

The First Post

So, I finally find myself making a little space to collect my works. The way things have been recently, I should end up flooding this place. We'll see what happens - worst comes to worst, I can always flood the pages with my back logs of my "Youth" poetry. I'm still not quite sure what the plan for this place is though; do I collect my poetry, my short stories, a mix of both...?

Not to worry, that's a dilemma for some other time. I'll cross that bridge when... well, whenever. For now, I'm gonna wrap up this little post, and then "publish" my first work on this space. It's one I feel is somewhat appropriate for the beginning of a collection, though I only wrote it less than two days ago.

For now, I shall bid those very few souls reading this Adieu.