The Cycle

He told stories, my grandfather

Of the horror, the end of laughter,

Conflicts past, that we shan’t forget

I remember those stories now that we let

All fade to oblivion, break our promises

When life fades into eternities

When the world is once more

On the brink of war

Dancing Lights

Dancing lights

Twirling shades

Flickering shadows and

Raging colours

The building blocks

Of many things

Of fires and storms and

Broken lamps

The Home I Knew

The older I get

The more I know

A shattered dream

An illusion destroyed

A truth, once ignored

Finally revealed

Unveiled at last

As the walls crumble

All around me

And everything I knew

Is gone

In the settling dust

Of the home I knew

I am left on my own

Perspective

You, my darling.

With a surface so hard,

And a heart so cold.

Under pressure, wanting to burst like

The explosive core of a grenade.

Decorated in black and in red,

Like your brothers and sisters,

Uncles, and aunts,

All manner of distant cousins.

Yet here you remain,

Alone,

Separated from all you know.

No longer so cold,

And your skin so soft.

A Tale

A complex barrage
Of thoughts and emotions
To yearn for love, and want to die
To smile of joy, and want to die
A carpet of opposites,
Of paradoxical illogicities
Of complimentary soaps,
And nooses on the ceiling

Once upon a time,
A prince and a princess in a land far away
The prince left and the princess came sad
Cutting and cutting, onions for the soup
A curtain of illusions, a web of lies
“I’m fine”, the princess says,
Yet all know it a lie
“I’m not fine”, the princess says,
Yet none care for the truth

A carpet of opposites,
Of paradoxical illogicities
In the end we’re all alone
Heaven or hell, all the same
An eternity of darkness, some say
In the end we’re all alone
With our complimentary soaps,
Hanging from the ceiling