When the music died

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When the music died,

mist rose from the ground

like rolling waves of silence,

engulfing sight and sound

in its thick white shroud,

and tears of sorrow

clung to lashes

in silent reflection,

before surrendering

to a final echo.

Hide for another day

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The mood turned to brown
in the hot midday sun
as the stifling air withered words,
struggling to make their way
from the cool depths
of the lakes of suppressed emotion.
 And the chirruping crickets
run riot with thoughts,
disassembling them as they form,
watch as they dissipate
in the turmoil,
lost, ere they ever began.
 In futile surrender
you shut your eyes,
let the hot wind blow silence through,
your world that is dim,
that slowly recedes
and you hide for another day.

The last dance of regret

Deep was the voice that rumbled

with the silver-gray sheet

that swathed the skies in an instant.

The words, an abrupt chill

that sunk into every essence within its reach.

Shoulders drooped with the tail of every creature

as the meaning absorbed into their soul,

and regrets danced their last dance

on empty, deserted stages,

unworthy of thought and awareness...

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The edge of reason

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    'twas the voice of evil spirits loudly rumbling in her head,
that decided fate the day when the clouds were tinged with red,
driving her to edge of reason far beyond accepted norm,
carelessly surrendering to the deeds that cause you harm. 

    And she lay down on the smould'ring bed of fire and it spread,
to the confines of the sacred heart where no one dares to tread,
seeing in her mind's eye tears turn to acid and deform
everything that she once cherished, yet she was beyond reform.

    So she sank into the dusk of the waters laced with lead,
on a path that's sure to take her to the lowest of seabed,
while the frantic pleas from lovers stead'ly faded in the storm,
left her soul in desp'rate need for a breath, just one, of calm.

   'twas the voices of the angels that pierced fin'ly through her head,
woke the need to live and banish from her soul the clouds of red,
driving her to push away from the edge towards the dawn,
yielding to the longed for arms, to their warmth, to which she's drawn.

untitled

To feel the intent of a nurturing glance,
to bask in the sunlit moon,
when water transforms to the nectar of chance,
and time builds a palace from ruins.

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The Anchor

Is it the chaos in our head,

spinning like a vortex,

that keeps us doing that which we do,

repeating, duplicating, returning again and again

to the bleeding brook that runs

through the nightscapes of our mind?

... forever recreating

wounds best left forgotten,

revisiting the pain of our growing years,

fed by the need to comfort ourselves

with that which is familiar,

barring the way to the uncomfortable unknown,

to a page in a book still waiting to be written -

too fearful to be free,

too timid to try,

too afraid to lift the anchor that weighs...

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The reason

A frown appears on her serene face and her green eyes darken

as the faint cool breeze touches the back of her neck

and picks up tendrils of her hair to paint streaks of worry

on her smooth complexion.

Foreboding stiffens her posture,

becomes rigid and erect,

as the blue skies turn grey, then black,

washing away every smile and all color,

and the wind starts to howl around the cobblestone streets,

lifting dust and leaves and skirts in the air,

creating hunched down figures, rushing

to escape the cold, to escape the north wind,

to escape from the winds of change.

And this winter raged long, blasting through roaring fires,

stealing the steam off mugs of hot chocolate,

as she watched the once lively streets become empty deserted alleys

where windows mirrored the long leaden faces of house-bound children,

exhausted by games of scrabble and scolds to cease the running in the hallways,

their eyes reflecting the cold silver grey of the trees,

willing them to change, to change back to green,

to come back to life and emerge from this everlasting winter.

Despair sunk through her soul, driving away her peaceful smile,

banishing the spark of hope that once danced in her eyes,

and with leaden feet she climbed the stairs

to her room, to the cupboard, to her richly embroidered valise

and resigned, she starts to fill it,

with her colorful scarves, peasant skirts and broken dreams,

before settling in her chair to wait for the dawn

which will lead her through the winding road

to another place, another time, and another dream...

Yet the daybreak brought her footsteps, brought a knock to her front door,

which when opened brought a fragrant touch of the warm south wind

that melted away the darkness, the despair, the hopeless grim surrender,

and a rush of heat flooded through her, bringing back her cheery grin

and dancing eyes, reigniting the flame of passion and desire,

which she embraced with abandon, accepted without question,

for before her was the reason, was the answer to her prayers...

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Black and white

As the sunlight feeds the shadows,

so a silver glow is spread

by the moon in deepest darkness

where the brave ones dare to tread,

and befriend the inner demons

that are hidden in their soul,

for the light and dark united

is what makes the psyche whole.

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Hidden consciousness

Tears overflow from dreams into wakefulness

as the past and the present

intertwine to form

a consciousness which

until now was locked

in the hidden chambers of my mind.

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Broken Windows

I wish I could see myself, just for a day,

for an hour, to see what you see…

Would I see a girl striding through this here life

with a strength and a stance to match,

who’s cushioned the blows that don’t leave a mark

who’s risen against the odds?

And does she cruise flighty and carefree each day

through streets with golden planes,

gifted with flair from the hands of the gods

that rule the night skies to refrains?

Or would I spot glimpses of tortured scarred flesh

that burns to a constant stream

of pain that’s residing so deep in her soul,

yet bound by an endless scream?

A scream of abandonment, careless denial,

for a love that she gladly bestowed

into the hands of a traitorous being,

who’s word’s but an empty echo…

I wish I could see myself, just for a day,

as that confident façade that reigns,

instead of submitting to unspoken fears

so deeply entrenched in my veins.

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Revelation

When the heavens intervene,

subtle images appear,

little pieces start to fall,

in your psyche as they sear,

through the blinkers placed in time

over eyes that chose to rest,

behind ignorance that soothes

nerves unraveled by the test

of acknowledging unwanted

truths we hide, prefer to change

into reasoning man-made,

in a limited dark range.

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Temptation

Let me lead you to temptation,

let me sway your will to cede,

close your eyes and follow that

which my touch you to will lead,

and forget yourself in me

as my whisper takes you deep

into my arms where you'll find

the fulfillment of that need,

that is smold'ring in your eyes,

that is burning through your skin,

let me take you to the darkness,

to the pleasures born in sin.

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Touch

Every footprint that I make

will be washed from this here shore,

yet the touch I leave today

will remain forever more.

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Before dawn

In the silence and the darkness in a cold and moonless night,

it's an anguished scream that tears through the soul with all its might,

as the dark fear has a grip on your limbs and on your heart,

takes the breath from hope that's seeking your direction to re-chart.

Feel the anguish, feel the pain, feel the deeds that brought regret,

feel the anger, feel the heartache of the past you can't reset,

and the dark will turn to shadows, turn to dawn if you have time,

walk towards this unseen promise, in the daybreak church bells chime.

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Windblown...

Ice-cold desolation washes over me as I see the sand, blowing in waves across the cracked, deserted tarmac. And icy fingers tug at my hair, tearing and tangling the once smooth facade, while a bolt of lightning rips through the black storm clouds rushing this way... a world transformed in the blink of an eye, gone are the sunny skies and the impression of summer, removed in an instant by the harsh force that's winter's grip on my heart.

...bitter the taste of wasted years

spent in a state of illusion,

craftily woven with marked intent,

promises windblown and broken.

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The Shadows of the Moon

My spirit withdraws

from the earthly realm

of the shadows the moon bequeaths,

and in silver veils

my soul can see

the truth as it hovers beneath

the full moon that rose

this glorious night,

to grant me the knowledge deserved,

lifting the pallor

of trapped blinding lies,

for chained earthbound mortals reserved.

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The gypsy

How I wish I were a gypsy, travelling through this big old land,

without future to direct me, without past to hold my hand,

free to wander dusty sideways, with the wind as my best friend,

sharing fruits in shady orchards, whilst the stranger's ear I lend.

I'd return the gift of nectar, as I see unspoken dreams

dance behind the shaded eyes, a desire that there gleams,

for a freedom never tasted, for a touch before unfelt,

and bewitched he settles back, for the hand this day had dealt.

He now listens to the words, as they flow forth from my lips,

possibilities arise, as he deviates from scripts

written by the hands of others and from blinkered visions old,

meant to tie him to the known, that would keep him in the mould.

Although brief the hours spent, in my time and in my care,

he discovers magic sights in the softness of my stare,

'ere returning to his life, 'ere I further wander through

dusty sideways in this land, for the next dream to renew.

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The Echo

Catch me in your arms,

I am ready to fall,

to trust in your words,

to heed to your call.

I have reached the end here,

the end of this road,

catch me as I fall,

your voice now, an echo...

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The silence of your being

Soft are the murmurs of the night

drifting from the shadows left by the descending sun,

probing your shell, slowly piercing

through the armor you've adeptly erected through the day.

And resistance crumbles as the stars start to sparkle

in the darkening sky that spreads its blanket over your soul,

and you break down and cry for the lost yesterdays,

for the tomorrows that never may be,

as the harsh truth dawns with the rising moon,

leaving you alone, deserted, in a self-created exile,

in the silence of your being,

in the emptiness of your soul.

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It's time to go home...

The road stretches out, endlessly, a golden mile too far,

that the thought of moving forward

is as appealing as yesterday’s feast,

congealed and encrusted in the sink,

the remains now lying rotten at the pit of your stomach

in the breaking dawn.

For your soul is just too scarred

to see the beauty of the mountain range hovering on the horizon,

and the wounds too raw to appreciate

the fresh sea air drifting just past their peak.

And by a force not your own,

you slow down, come to a halt

at the roadside at the edge of tall waving grass.

You open the door,

not bothering to close it behind you,

and start walking into the wilderness.

Slowly, tentatively at first,

then your steps start to quicken.

Faster and faster.

Each stride longer than the last

as you try to outrun

all the thoughts whirling in your head,

to leave behind the memories,

the words that still echo in your ear,

the touch of the hand that's still warm on your back,

and the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks,

as recently as today.

And you come to halt at the furiously flowing river.

You stare at the torrent and the angry rushing water,

and you wonder if you'll take that step,

into the maelstrom of oblivion.

To bring an end to the infinite torture your mind has subjected you to,

induced by the realisation

that that which you’ve lived

was the design of another’s creation,

and you were just along for the ride,

while they operated the controls.

You were but a puppet

at the hands of the master of manipulation and deception,

which you were too naïve,

too gullible,

too trusting

to see.

And the thought of redeeming their soul

and to carry on is just too much to bear,

too much to put behind,

so you take that step into the yielding, ice-cold mud

as the wind tears at your hair

and the skies cry with you

and you wait for the current

to lay claim to your soul,

as you welcome the coming silence.

It’s time to go home…

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Shimmering warmth

The room is filled with gently flickering candlelight

while entrancing scents waft through the air,

capturing the melodious voices, sparkling with laughter,

enchanted by the music that's caressing their soul.

And its through this haze of shimmering warmth

that I watch you from a distance,

your movements, your lips,

your eyes that dance,

that stir awake a longing,

borne from the touch of long and hot nights

spent at the mercy of your love,

now teasing the edge of my consciousness,

driving a desire to own your flesh once again.

I watch, mesmerized, as your eyes lift, infinitely slow,

before locking my eyes with an intent

running invisible fingers lazily down my spine,

delivering promises, bent of fulfilling,

the need that's written in my eyes...

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