There is no pain you're receding. A distant ship smoke on the horizon. You're only coming through in waves, your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying. When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse. Out of the corner of my eye, I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now, the child is grown, the dream is gone..

Thursday, April 02, 2015

A Piece for Assorted Lunatics



It was as I remember, just another toneless Friday evening,
And the local band prepared to perform and sing.
The ceiling gleamed with dimly lit chandeliers,
The haziness began, as I gulped down another shot of Belvedere's.
I squinted around for that voluptuous bar dancer,
Wondering why do they strive for the gold that glitters.
A handsome tip I greedily paid, with the ardor for getting laid!


The sweet maƮtre d served me the '67 wine,
And she whispered softly: I'll play dirty for an hour, if you pay me a dime.
They're not what they show themselves as,
There's a bewitched soul in every bonnie lass.
How I wish I knew all her sly tricks,
How I wish I could escape this house of bricks!


I stepped out of the place after the long hour,
Breathing in a rush of intoxicated air.
Outside the mist was slowly dissolving,
And the fog converged into some distant opening.
Making a tail of fantasy like a diminishing meteor,
And the vision remained clear no more.
I started walking on a perpetual journey,
While a dark and mystic secret it kept forming.


The voices whispered and argued in my head,
Some random images they sketched and made.
They sang and hummed and lured me on a way,
To some hamlet outside where reality kept away.
They danced away as quiet silhouettes,
Into the fading smoke of the burning cigarettes.
In the cave where the pied piper resides,
Where the darkness is eluded in white stripes.


The nature has decided to call it a day.
And the water from the shore dolefully ebbs away.
The sea awaits the downpour of another shower,
As the dark moon shines dully on the gigantic ivory tower. 
My thoughts have ceased from wandering,
And into my room, they're slowly re-entering.
Through the iron bars of the blanched window,
And into the grey bed by a bucket of water shallow.


I smile a little as the sham slowly disappears,
And the white lady with the drip finally reappears.
She injects my veins with a heavy draught of Valium,
Tranquillising my nerves and snuffing my phantasm.
I long for another trip, yet crave for eternal freedom;
Awaiting it all in the unnatural psychedelia of this mental asylum..



Monday, November 17, 2014

Coma Grey



Did the things finally stop moving in your head?
Did the voices cease to whisper in your ear?
Did you find your sanity back from the shadows?
And have you convinced yourself to quit taking the placebos?


Did the roads all look so different at night?
And did you forget where to turn to glimpse a fleeting sight?
Did you stop having those dreams in which you died?
Oh did you tell your doctor about the nightmares that never lied?


You know it's too late, the train is leaving in a while.
You know you can't change the fact, you have to walk that flowery aisle. 
Kiss your bride and make her happy with your fat wallet,
And kill your darling with whom you danced your high school ballet. 


If they say you're sleazy and blame you for your appetite of lust,
Then tell them about that poltergeist who screams 'dying a virgin was unjust..'
If they say you're fucking crazy, they've got it all wrong.
And if they they call you fucking lazy, then you need to sing them one more song!


Yes you might forget the words the next time you try to sing,
But remember that day when you comfortably played your old six string.
The couplets in your poems won't rhyme or make sense anymore, 
But remember that oath to complete your black book that you once swore.


The dreams will repeat and you will fall once more off that apartment.
Your memory will take toll and you will fear your own power of judgement. 
If the paranoia makes you forget who you really can be,
Then look at that man in the mirror and search where your eyes can't see.


The worms from your past might fill up your tidy fucking brain,
And she might leave you dry when you're about to kiss in the unseasoned rain. 
But don't give in to their God until you can still manage a half grin,
And don't slay those worms before you have committed the final sin..