I.
Yesterday,
I learnt to walk backwards,
Tomorrow,
I will learn to walk forwards,
But today,
I have nowhere to go.
II.
I expect nothing,
Yet I am still disappointed;
Perhaps,
It is not that I expect nothing,
But that I yearn for it.
III.
Allow me to sing for you,
The anthems of the morning,
To join the buzzards and magpies,
And tender winds performing,
To allow new life to spur,
From the carcass of darn,
As the moon births the sun,
Like a deer to it’s faun.
IV.
If it’s all,
Fun and games,
Until someone gets hurt,
There is no such thing,
As fun and games.
V.
The older I get,
The more important things become,
But the less they mean to me.
VI.
All of the stars in the sky,
And not one,
That shines on me.
VII.
Your,
Strength,
Is nothing more,
Than an accident,
Arising,
From the weakness,
Of others.
VIII.
When you are weak,
Appear strong,
When you are strong,
Don’t appear.
IX.
Order without Chaos,
Is Chaos.
Chaos without order,
Is impossible.
X.
Against the wind:
Cold.
With the wind;
Breeze.
XI.
To silence the vile of evil’s decree,
On moonless night’s in lightless creed,
Deprave it’s wretched and soiless seed,
Of yearned wants and yearning needs,
And bury its words where none will see.
XII.
They say:
The pen is sharper than the sword;
For the ink spilt by one,
Whets the blood spilt by the other.
XIII.
Naught is your strength,
But the weakness of others,
Bow to contrivance,
And make cowardice a brother.
XIV.
My throne of failure,
Your crown of regret,
This castle of doubt,
Our kingdom: bereft.
XV.
But the whole of me,
Can so often seem less than,
The sum of these parts.
XVI.
But oh,
How tired I have grown,
Of resting.
XVII.
The heart is a super-weapon,
A tool of destruction;
I have a tendency for friendly fire.
XVIII.
A minute is an hour eager,
A hymn wrote in a tongue of haste;
An hour is a minute ripened,
A sweet smell—such a bitter taste.
XIX.
The path away from her,
Was clear and straight—
But I feel so ever dizzy…
Dizzy, and dazed.
XX.
At night I dream of,
Heaven and all of her friends,
Singing to the Sun.
XXI.
Love is but a transaction of emotions;
Temporary and volatile,
A deal not always fair,
Though always alluring.
XXII.
Remember:
Time is a faithless ally,
And a rueful foe;
Leave nothing to it.
XXIII.
‘Question everything’
They tell you this with pursed lips,
Their high hats and lowered chins,
Pointing to the skies; moon, cross or star.
But never the unanswerable,
They tell you this, wordlessly,
With posture and rote,
Aspersing truth—and all else:
Hearsay or heresy,
There would be no middle ground.
XXIV.
My heart alone,
Is a powerful muscle,
But it’s will to love,
Shall make it deadly.
XXV.
Heed your step, for the path is steep,
‘Ware its malign impressions;
The rotten trail is carved quite deep,
And done with pure intentions.
XXVI.
There’s something,
So incredibly pleasurable,
About sorrow.
XXVII.
Antagonistic,
Are the forces of man’s fear,
Of death, and of God.
XXVIII.
To read,
Is to wield freedom;
To write,
Is to wield power.
XXIX.
When you resent your mistakes:
The cracks in your flesh
Or the faults in your veins,
Look to those around you,
That peer back to your own,
And see, with such faith
The reflection you are shown.
XXX.
When the clouds disperse,
And the bells lay broken,
When the storm turns calm,
And reason is awoken,
When your vision turns clear,
And your fists reopen,
Decide at once,
While the pain remains frozen,
Whether you lost your mind,
Or if it was stolen.