Lost Loves, Lost Lives

Black starlit spheres
Beguile me in dreams
Of days past
Romance lost
I wake to empty thoughts
Of lost lives never lived…


Death Demands Respect

Death demands respect-

Existing only to take away existences

Living only to take life.

Inherited, passed down

Unwanted child of all.

We try to ignore death and live

As long as we can grasp

To the frail fabric of own mortality…

Mind The Gap – A Novelette (Part 2)

When I say everything stopped, I include myself. I did not gain superhuman strength or sudden speed, but rather I was frozen, locked in pace. In that moment, though, I could see a way to save her. I saw that inevitable need not be so inevitable and that the non-existent enemy that she had looked out upon just moments before was not as intangible as I had initially thought.

So as time gradually began again, like a child awakening from sleep and as I plunged forward into the humid air, stretching out my hand to grab from her certain death, I slipped. So in saving her, I had secured my own grapple with death.

Some people who have been to the edge of death and returned say they see a white light at the end of tunnel in that moment.
Doctors would tell you that it is cause by random synapses in the brain firing, the mind’s desperate way of trying to stay alive, whereas others would insist that it’s the entrance to heaven.

So did a see a light before my seemingly certain, untimely death?

No, I saw two blinding lights, a train and the shocked pale face of the train driver frantically trying to brake.

I’ve always thought of train stations as a sort of no-man’s land, a commuters purgatory, neither here nor there- just waiting.
If that was true, where would I wake?

My first thought upon waking was that there was no suitable metaphor for being hit by train. Being hit by a train was like being hit by a train. I had no time to experience anything but that lone thought. I saw no sight, I experienced no smell, no feelings, I experienced nothing. I simply fell back into unconscious, dreamless oblivion…

My next awakening was not so abstract. I could not the light of my mind, but rather, I woke to the piercing light of day in which I lay helpless.

Kicking And Screaming

She grabs you by the hand-

Pulling you out of your womb of everyday life, kicking and  screaming-

Out of your solid reality,

Into one of unclear divisions-

Vivid visions of colour,

Homeless artist with half-chewed pencil-

Love among thieves-

Lawful injustice and lawless justice-

Unwanted poverty-

Unneeded luxury-

She makes you question-

Belief, and faith-

Science, men and Gods.

She throws you into cold water

Blood rushing-

You feel alive, acutely aware

Of the the fake mask that she has lifted off

Your mind struggles and succeeds

To comprehend

This corroding illusion of law

And fame and government-

And status.

Stripping humanity down to naked babies-

Screaming, kicking and screaming

For the womb…








Trailing fingers linger-

Evoking lost emotions.

We walk side by side again,

You smudge the shadows.

You are a ghost-image, 

A blurred double exposure

From an old film camera.

This moment is a union 

In spirit only, a remembrance.

I do not remember you with nostalgia

For nostalgia dulls, it would round you off-

Like sea-beaten glass.

Rather I remember you at present-

With irreverent love

With wit and tears and arguments

With love un-cliched, loyalty unswayed

With unabashed words, lessons left unlearnt.

I live with you as overlapped tides do-

For they exist as metaphor only,

For tides are but one colossal wave-

When one ends, one begins.

Let Us!

Let’s walk down to death’s doorway.

Run against the flow, go against the grain

Let us find fate!-

Wander along the edge, unafraid of falling.

Weather a winter of barren loneliness-

To come out the other side in the golden air of spring

Feel the ground beating in our wake

Razor sharp-

Sky as hot as hell in summer…

Go it alone- together!

Let us not cross over to death!

Let us be unique in our own strain of “madness” 

Let us live!

Icy Beauty

Silent rain falls on a broken light shadow,

On my mirrored wall.


Fractured light pierces my sight,

Blue cold breathe touches my own.


Criss-cross particles permeate white air,

As my fallen thoughts stay silent.


Blinding bright darkness entrances me,

This dark so inviting because of this lighted sight.


All this–

My interlaced perception

Of your midnight reflection.