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..

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..

Friday, August 29, 2014

Heroin Overdose.

The cold metal pricks through the layers of my flesh,
It happens again as the lightning strikes with a flash!
A rush of heroin through my veins injected from the drip,
Falling through the empty spaces: another magnificent trip.

I hear what I want to and shut what I can close, 
The TV is blaring about death from a drug overdose. 
Highways sway in and out of my dizzy sight,
I see those tall, black hooded figures mourning in my plight.

The abandoned mountains are raging furiously with a red flame,
A country lies destroyed, is sanity to be blamed?
They call me demented for the things that I can see,
Yet more than most of them, saner I'll always be. 

My sentinels are falling like tears from a star,
And the doors of my mind are pushed a little more ajar.
Images are shifting in a jiffy like a kaleidoscope,
Diminishing slowly at the mighty ocean of dope!

And it happens again, oh what a lovely lovely rush!
The grass looks greener and the royalty seems plush!
I crave for another pinprick as the drug endures to gush,
And with every passing trip, the hunger grows for eternal lust.

Lying motionless and slowly letting it all slip underneath,
I peek through the layers of my brain to see what lies beneath.
Psychotic thoughts have started to stir inside,
Leaving a frozen grin on my face and ebbing the final tide.
The ice below my feet is thin and cracking fast,
And with the cursed time, I wonder, will any storm forever last?

Sunday, August 10, 2014


Smoking doobies in a cold windy night on the roof, 
Mocking at this haunted world of fake spoofs.
Laughing in sick desperation at the mad butcher's door, 
And our echoes drowning forever in that bottomless floor.

This war will last forever young John,
They have remnants of graveyard yet to mourn.
There is place to drink and sleep and dine in,
But in this great hotel of laws we can never sin!

Hey little train wait for this boy with childlike dreams,
In his sleep at night he barely ever screams.
They're all painting a wall in front of our eyes,
To make us believe that the world is full of thin ice!

Old Mama has switched the television off at two in the night, 
The psychedelic outburst has blurred all the rest of light.
The ajar doors have turned from seven colours to white,
And that little voice inside your head wakes you up at midnight..

Sunday, June 01, 2014


How can you know what's joy, if you've never laughed with a child?
How can you know what's beauty, if you've never been into the wild?
How can you know the smell of mud, if you haven't seen the rain?
And how can you know what's love, if you haven't felt the pain?

How can you applaud the mystery, if it has been revealed?
How can you meddle with the path, if it has been travelled?
How can you understand the poor, if you've never spent a dime?
And how can you know what's hope, if you cannot read the time?

How can you love diamonds, if you haven't seen the light?
How can you love the stars, if you haven't seen the night?
How can you love your freedom, if you've never been imprisoned?
And how can you love your life, if you've never been poisoned?

How can you know what's ache, if you've never said goodbye?
How can you feel the sorrow if you've never wiped tears from your eye?
How can you feel the frost, if you've been covered by a duvet?
And how can you know what's loss, if you've buried no one in May?

How can you know what's pleasure, if you've never kissed a woman?
How can you decide what's right, if you've never faced a gun?
How can you know what's terror, if you've never heard midnight screams?
And how can you say what's real, if you've never died in your dreams..?

Saturday, March 01, 2014


A translucent shadow, white and pale.
Glimmers near the lake in the mighty gale.

It beckons me to follow into its realms of memories,
Its eyes beseech questions, by the weeping leaves of trees.

It shivers and it shudders, going berserk with agony,
As it starts to implore the tale of its journey.

It takes me to a kid dreaming by the rusted window. 
Watching the drops of rain falling dark and slow.

I stood there watching the child and his vision,
I stood there watching as his hopes flew to the Sun.
I stood there hypnotized by its sheer beauty.
I stood there spellbound, smiling at his unscarred fantasy.
I stood there gazing blankly at his unflinching perseverance.
I stood there immersed, admiring the magnificence.

Then it suddenly hits me like a bolt of thunderous lightning.
Lurching me out of my reverie, the reality it brings.
The little boy smiles and we wave each other a somber goodbye.
Boarding the train, he departs forever with tears in his eyes.
I stand there forlorn, for those days that I miss,
As the ghost of my inner child fades away into its nemesis..