Sunday, February 20, 2011


How cruel is life? – The game we must play
Till the bitter end of our days
We have our roles, but know no rules
For this – this vicious cabaret

With a clang and a cling, they come
And take the curtains away
Leaving us alone in this –
This vicious cabaret

Exit stage left – You’ve played your part
Your cameo is over.
The vicious cabaret
Continues without you

And so you stand trapped with
Your frozen smile as you await
Your cue – in the crazy mardi gras
Called life – a vicious cabaret
The dark masks and pretty costumes
Hide the truth – the great joke of life –
A tragicomedy played, populated and watched
By ghostly shells trapped in their human machines

Yet – we hunger for the embrace
Of machines – though they quicken our demise
with their harsh embrace in this –
This vicious cabaret

Desperate we are for love
Desperate we are for respite
From the game of life
And its vicious cabaret

Desperate we are for escape –
To a land of do as you please
Desperate for escape from the cold
And far away from the ghosts

The ghosts in the machine that haunt
The ghosts in our shells that taunt
The ghosts that know the secret truth –
There is no escape from this demented gag.

All we have is the realization
And the wait – the cold, long, hard wait
When we all become what we fear...

The Last Dance

Inspired by Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Christabel

The one red leaf, the last of its clan
That dances as often as dance it can
Fears not so much the dark
For it has more to fear of the light

In the light of the day, come the forlorn
The light of the day brings the buzzing
The faint, unmistakable sound delivers an ill wind
Of rolling cascades tinged with misery

Then come the men in multicoloured coats
Revving fast, with the harbingers of doom
Whose touch spells the collapsing, final end,
The end of days for all the tall beings

The end of days for the tall beings,
Came, but alas, it did not pass by
The one red leaf, the last of its clan
That will never dance as often as dance it can

Broken Hourglass

Tick Tock

Bloodied, but unbowed

Once upon a day
In a land far away
On a bleak Thursday in November
Came the darkest evening of the year
A child was born
Naked as the morn
Then tick tock
Began the clock

His beginning had come too early
Its start would prove so dreary
Pitiful wails filled the air
All looked on in despair
His end may come, his end may not
But fate is a foe that cannot be fought
And yet still, tick tock
Continued the clock

By chance, his demise was delayed
And life began with a debt to be paid
In time the boy grew strong and brave
Fought the throngs and battled knaves
Kept his nose down to the grindstone
Moved through life’s dead-end zones
And yet still, tick tock
Went the weary clock

Though the skyline fades into night
It will look brighter in hindsight
We have nothing but time, as tick tock
Always goes the clock


Flowers in the valley

Standing in your majestic glory.
Soft white clouds lean down to kiss you.
The radiant sun shines for you, so true.

Look upon its beams of bright lights,
Showing majestic and wondrous sights.
Red in the morning, blue in the evening sun,
Snatching breath away from everyone.

Blue skies gaze down at you in awe,
So secure, Lily white and pure.
In the hills and highlands, you survive
In the cold breezes, you thrive.

The crescent moon shines on your face
As you bravely carve out your space
Drenched in beautiful twilight
You survive every cold night.

When night light fades to blue
It is never the same without you
Your petals sparkle in the night
How do they glow so bright?

Morning dew paints your flowers
Rain clouds bless you with showers
As you flutter down gently
In all your majestic glory

Your splendour is a wondrous mystery
Plain as night and day for all to see
No heart could fail to see your beauty

Flowers in the Valley


Once again, the seasons have changed,
And replaced their many coloured cloaks.
The night air fills with my breath,
On solitary drives in the cold, snowy nights.

 Beneath the gleaming ballroom lights,
Time slowly ticks by like sand
Through a miniature hourglass as
The frozen beach moves beside me.

The beauty of the world is a revelation
That fills my sleep with dreams,
Of the time passed with,
And without, your shining face.

Of tap dancing on the moon,
And writing an ode on the sun
Of being a passerby who finds a place to stay
Of throwing caution to the wild wind
And taking the cold plunge into the sea

Maybe the high tide will take me far away,
Breaking waves will flow through submerged caves,
The brilliant colours of the rainbow will fall like snow,
My Technicolor life will be transformed,

For though we are now steeped deep in winter,
Spring must come again. Spring will come again.
If I reached across the galaxy, I would whisper
In your ear – Oh how I wish I could be there.

I still dream of the splendour of your brown eyes,
Your quiet grace and I wonder, I sometimes wonder.
When the sun peeks through, on cold winter days,
Do you ever stare at frozen creeks across the wild yonder?
Do you ever stare across the frost-blanketed fields?
And even for a moment, dream of me too?*


It’s still there

On the outside, you’re fine
But you are hurting on the inside
I don’t know how I hurt you

You brushed it off
But the pain is still there
I might not see

It’s still there

If I say sorry
It won’t make a difference
The insult was said
The damage was done

It’s a vicious cycle
That comes back
And never goes away

It’s still there


If our dreams are a window to our souls,
Then my database must be corrupted,
I talked to the moon, and it never heard me.
I drove to a destination, and never reached it.