The Party

April 21, 2013

Surrounded by friends, he remains silent.
There are people here he hasn’t spoken to for years;
people he had forgotten about;
people who had surely forgotten about him.
And yet they have come.
They are here for him
but he remains silent.
He never was very good company.
If anything, he would have preferred no party at all.
But then, that’s not the done thing.
So there is a party
but he remains silent.
It really is a rather good party;
but he has no idea;
he never was a lover of parties.
He’d always preferred quiet time,
private time,
and if not for these guests,
whom he had not invited,
that’s what he would be doing now.
They talk about him
but he remains silent.
Some talk to him,
but he remains silent.
Several weep at his very feet,
but he remains silent.
Now and ever.


Sing to me…

April 21, 2013

Sing to me
as I drift to sleep.
Let me sail upon your melody
from these shores
into the depths of unconsciousness.
May the last thing I hear
before I sink
beneath the cool surface
be the softness of your voice.
May the words
stay with me
in the eternal dream
of the hereafter.
Enshroud me with your harmony
that I be buried with your song
and have it echo through the heavens
and mingle with the music of angels.
I do not ask of you
to weep for me
for I am not sad.
We have both been waiting
and now it is time for me to go;
My only remaining wish is this:
as I drift to sleep,
sing to me.

New Soul

March 2, 2013

In the half-light born,
a brand new soul
to a dying world.
Shadows over soft blue eyes,
looking to a future
no one chose.
such events were celebrated:
a fresh-lit flame,
a beacon of love,
a bundle of joy.
But this is a changed world.
One in which new parents
feel only apologetic–
where birth is mourned,
and death yearned for.

Beyond the Horizon

July 19, 2012

She opens her eyes.
Immediately, she has to cover her face,
shielding from the Sun,
She faces into the wind,
a young girl –
she looks maybe 19, maybe older –
innocent, bright,
and her hair flicks across her lips.
She adjusts to the Sun after a moment
and she looks out across the sea,
almost as blue as her eyes.
From where she stands,
it seems eternal.
She stands on sands of gold,
her bare feet slightly sinking
into the soft ground.
The sun is hot and her feet burn a little,
but they feel cooler under the surface.
The air smells of salt and a certain sweetness
and apart from the wind and the waves
there is no sound.
She’s completely alone on the beach
and she doesn’t even look around her to check,
just gazes across the ocean towards the horizon.
What is beyond that ever distant line, she wonders.
She wears a light white linen dress that dances in the wind
and small specs appear where the surf blows up
and she feels it on her face too;
blinking, she lifts a hand to wipe the moisture away
and to brush her hair aside.
She watches the clouds crawling and curling
from over the horizon and wonders again,
where have they come from.
She imagines the wind that blows in her face
filling the sails of some grand ship,
carrying all the people she has ever known and ever loved.
She imagines it rising over the horizon,
from that mysterious other place,
sails fat with the sweet salty wind.
She even thinks she sees it, for a second,
coming closer,
coming to collect her.
She raises her arms in the air
and feels a gust of wind wash over her,
and she wonders what is beyond the horizon
and as her ship comes nearer,
she knows she will soon find out,
and she smiles broadly
as the light from the sun shines brighter
and as I look down on you
lying frail in a bed you didn’t choose,
searching for recognition in your grey eyes
I see your breathing shallow
and feel your hand relax in mine.
For a moment, I think I see a hint of a smile and
I wonder what’s beyond the horizon
and I wish for a heaven that I don’t believe in.


April 19, 2012

I was walking to town one day
when I saw a strange face
In a town the size of mine
that’s not so commonplace.

I said, “Hello,” and, “how d’ya do”
I shook his hand and smiled,
I looked into his eyes
and I saw something wild.

He didn’t speak a word to me
and when I let go of his hand
I saw a shadow cross his face
and cloud fell ‘cross the land

I heard the thunder rollin’ in
on hot summer’s day
and as shaken as I was,
I couldn’t look away.

In the pitch-black of his eyes
I saw such awful things
and as he stared right into me
I felt the pain that dyin’ brings.

Without a single word
I begged him, “let me be”
and when he nodded his head,
I knew he hadn’t come for me.

I asked more silent questions
but no more answers came
and as he turned away
I knew I’d never feel the same.

For a long ol’ time
I stood right there
but no matter the hours that passed
I could not forget that stare.

Eventually, my sense returned
and I headed back t’ward home and
just a’fore I reached the door,
a flash of lightning cut through the gloaming.

I went inside, still shaken
and called out to my wife,
and when I heard no answer,
I knew he’d come to take her life.

I walked upstairs and into the bedroom,
there she lay
and he stood lookin’ over her
but I had nothin’ to say.

I watched him quietly
as he just disappeared
then looked upon my breathless wife
the only thing I’d ever feared.

Boneyard Bulbs

March 24, 2012

His world was a barren landscape
of extinguished bulbs.
Every one had once born light
but at the moment each one died,
this is where it had come.
He looked across this glassy graveyard
and felt a deep sadness
that he could only see these empty vessels
and was never allowed a glance at one alight.
Such was his hell,
as this was theirs.

Inspired by this photo (comments unfortunately disabled on original site):

Boneyard Bulbs


March 21, 2012

I am the sand in your hourglass,
the sway of your pendulum;
I am the shadow on your sundial,
your past, your yesterday, your then.
I am your forgotten dreams,
your hazy memories,
the friends you left behind
and your estranged family.
I am the times you laughed,
the times you cried,
your loves and your fights.
I am your first kiss
and your last breath.
I am death.

xi. Cold

July 22, 2011

My heart beats hard,
tries its level best to
remind me I’m alive
and yet I don’t feel it,
not the way I should,
not like it’s within me,
not like it’s a part of me.
My breath speeds up,
steams on the mirror.
I feel no in and out,
no oxygen to the brain
just like I don’t feel
the blood pumping
just like I don’t feel
the joy or pain of life
just like I don’t feel.
Cold makes me numb,
dulls my senses, yet
this doesn’t feel new.
Dullness comforts me,
like an old friend might,
wraps its arms round me
and slows my heart
and slows my breath
and reminds me that death
is always around the corner.

x. The Edge

July 22, 2011

Sitting at the edge of emotion,
the tension before it snaps.
The sweet release of suicide
calling, teasing like a siren
in the stormy seas of my misery.
That moment when the blur clears
and it all makes sense –
like this is the only answer,
like this has been it all along.

Standing at the precipice of eternity.
The seconds before the darkness
and there is only light, divine.
The soft lullaby of death
entices me into endless slumber,
beckoning me to the painlessness of forever.

Kneeling at the feet of God,
exhausted from praying and waiting;
This time not asking but telling
choosing my own destiny,
taking my life in my own hands.
No more supplication, pleading
for delivery – no more.

Lying in the corner of the room,
feeling the life crawl out of me –
Not a soft and gentle transcendence
but a harsh and unforgiving wrench
from the world of the living.
Not like slipping silently into dreams
but jerking roughly into the cacophony of hell.
Sick to my stomach now,
retching and twitching,
screaming as the darkness closes in.
Finally, the realization that this was not the answer;
the acceptance of my own stupidity;
the knowledge that it is too late;
the guilt.

Every Day

June 25, 2011

Every day is one day closer.
You can choose to acknowledge that
and be every day one day more prepared,
one day happier,
one day richer,

or you can ignore it;
live everyday for you;
live everyday for the instant gratification
with which our generation
has become so accustomed;
live every day for your reputation,
like anyone else’s opinion really matters;
live every day for riches
and be taken by surprise
when you’re taken,
unaware of what it is to really be happy,
to really be rich.

Every day is one day closer.