Wednesday, September 2, 2015


deeply different instruments
play a tune across a divide
melodic dichotomy gives birth
to a spark among fumes
a new life

revel in revealing
newfound bond, pulling in
pulled out from beyond the veil
of profound meanings
striding along the way

gathering pace in time
stunning and grand in design
boiling hot inside, minds intertwined
bound in subliminal push
what's left is what's required
one touch, one move
and shush

one sip of the melding potion
to put everything in motion
everything in place

Friday, August 14, 2015


climbing sharp edges of your wall
fingers numb, mustn't loosen my grip
remains to be seen whether i'm equipped
to survive the inevitable fall

sailing wild waters of your sea
no anchor, a broken ship's wheel
curious to learn if i'll still be here
or drown in the face of defeat

flying cold winds of your sky
feathers torn to shreds in my wings
wonder what tomorrow shall bring
do you let me in or do i die?

Friday, June 19, 2015


breathing in smoke
breathing out fire
almost remaining unscorched
among desires devoured
luck has run out running 'round nigh burnt out pyre

quit your stallin'
take it all in
flame has fallen
to the ground

Thursday, May 21, 2015


stillness inside undone by rattling of spine
raindrops cut through fragile skin

thumping outside when thunders combine
seek no shelter, stand your ground

long nights collide, always left understated
blinded by the restless sun

crying out from within where the unrest begins

Monday, May 18, 2015


gaze upon this wretched shell
confined within there spirits dwell
concealed from eye lie hidden away
through dark of the night and bright of the day
in silence

their stories told many a time
by empty sounds, voices denied
too frail to overcome the sinister tide
combined consciousness of those cast aside
by silence

sanity turned to ebb and flow
relentless struggle of those below
no one to be, no way to live, nowhere to go
punished and damned by the force of it all
the silence

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

endless sea

living in the fade
places we wanted to see
never got around to go
guess it wasn't meant to be
things we wanted to share
they ring a hollow sound
an echo of broken pieces
falling shattered and unbound
left staring into distance
past horizon and beyond
every second, every minute
endless sea of what we've lost

endless sea of what we've lost
endless sea of what we've lost
endless sea of what we've lost

Saturday, May 2, 2015


The deeper into the mine, the further we sink
Consumed by dense, black fog at our feet
Moving past the point of no return
With only enough rope to wrap around our necks

Whether we want it or not, bereft of any choice
We are urged to press on
As sense of free will is but a distant memory

We make use of tools at our disposal
To clear the way to what lies beyond
Gallons of sweat on our thickly-veined temples
Cast off and turn into tar

We hit the rock
We hit the bottom
We swing and swing
And ache and ache

Cold iron becomes a match to the obsidian eye
A match that burns whenever it's struck
Little, little head brimming with light
Displaying shreds of torn purpose

Thousands of strikes and thousands of fires
But no oxygen to sustain their lives
Enough nothing to put an end to every one of them
And forget their misunderstood cycles

When time comes it all turns undone
A sudden collapse, unforseen collision
Unexpected, as always, by the man in the dark
His senses dulled by the promise of a find

Why was this path chosen, chosen yet again?
Why shirk away from the lonely surface?
Whether we were pushed by someone
Or have we pushed ourselves
We are all drawn toward the mine

We dig a hole
We dig a tunnel
Walk into our own grave
Meet the same senseless end
Over and over

With torch and pickaxe in hand
A pack of matches, dust-covered clothes
And only enough rope to wrap around our necks
We dig

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Never, Never Land

Everyday's a test
A test of your resolve
Flyin' away from nest
Tryin' to put it whole
Search for missing pieces
Rarely goes as planned
As your strength decreases
Lose fragments of your mind
What's setting you apart
Things you can withstand
Never have a change of heart
And you never, never land

Every moment, every second
Every moment goes on record
Can't rewind the tape; it's broken
Can't unwind, no rest, but hopin'
Holding on can strain the body
Adding pain to the weight you carry
Cast your light on shadow's surface
Cast away your fears and burdens

Constant looking back
Is what drags you down
Wings start showing cracks
Past follows you around
Struggle against the wind
Have a reckless streak
Thrown into a tailspin
Afraid, yet never weak
 What's setting you apart
All of it you withstand
Never have a change of heart
And you never, never land

Every moment, every second
Every moment goes on record
Can't rewind the tape; it's broken
Can't unwind, no rest, but hopin'
Holding on can strain the body
Adding pain to the weight you carry
Cast your light on shadow's surface
Cast away your fears and burdens

Sunday, March 22, 2015


She's always there. Even though you can rarely catch a fleeting glimpse of her. Hidden in the finer points of the night. Dressed in darkness.

She's never said a word yet somehow speaks to you. Uses language that has no words but is full of meaning. Evokes a mental response. Awakens.

She's turning sounds that don't exist into audible breath of a morning breeze. She's well aware you're longing for this soothing relief. She delivers.

She's an ocean you sink into. Impenetrable depths of green. Can't begin to guess what lies beyond. Can't imagine.

She's cold fire. She consumes you yet your body and mind remain unscorched. She lits you up as if you were a solitary beacon stood at the brink of a cliffside. Pulls you back.

She's leading you somewhere. You're crawling in desperate search of her subtle footsteps. Hypnotized. Spellbound. You don't panic. She won't let you.

She knows you'll find them. Find her. It's inevitable.

What's the deal with her? Is it all just a game? To her? Is she real? Is any of this even real? Are you...

Wednesday, March 18, 2015


not bound by any ties
sheer freedom from exposure
pressure no longer applied
safe sense of true closure

self-promise of no reprise
stand tall; weakness long over
yet one look into your eyes
an uppercut to my composure

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

How Early Ol' Days, Spinach, Cupids and Geometrical Tolerance Can Shape a Baby Into a Person

When I was being born I promised to myself to spend the first few years of my life as a baby. My thought process amounted to more or less the following: "Fuck it, been stuck for months up in here stewing like a beheaded chicken carcass thrown into a boiling cauldron somewhere in a witch's hut in the far corner of the world. Might as well treat myself to some free service twenty-four seven. Year in, year out. Baby."

I was a good, sweet child o' my parents. Sweet like a bag of sweets and good like a person who jumps in front of another person to take a bullet for them and save their life even though this scenario's portrayal in movies and television has shifted our perception of it to be entirely believable where in truth it is impossible to intercept a fired round unless someone is an absolute Wizard of Anticipation and knows exactly when to undertake appropriate muscle motions. Even then, depending on numerous factors such as distance, velocity and shot placing among others, it is possible for the bullet to pierce through the first body and hit the second one as well. One would have to be really unlucky. Well, two people would have to be really unlucky but the person behind would have to be more unlucky. On second thought, the first person gets killed in almost every scenario so... Nevermind.

Point is, well, maybe I wasn't THAT good but I always slept during nights except when I didn't in which case I was awake. Was never one for crying either except rare instances when I had tears in my eyes. If that ever occurred then I usually had a damn good reason for it. For example, I was uncomfortable a lot of the time. Uncomfortable like a tired old sofa that even the blind family dog refuses to lie on anymore because it's creaky (noisy) and it smells. Creaky and smells. If I was a nut, these would be the contents of my shell. Creaky and Smells. Sounds like a children's cartoon jingle about cupid detectives.

Creaky and Smells solving some crii-ii-imes
Always alert, bit goofy at tii-ii-imes
Friends for life, doing good, having fun!
Using the power of love instead of a gun!
Creaky and Smells oh Creaky and Sme-e-ells
Cupid detectives on their way to he-e-elp
We need them because they're so nice and good!
Chasing down baddies like real lawmen should!

Which is great because there's plenty of bad men SATANS EVEN! in the world who WANT TO HURT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY. YES YOU IN PARTICULAR. AND YOUR FAMILY. They hacked into the NSA satellites and are targeting you as we speak. One of their HQs just dispatched a black van headed for your address. You can't do shit now and IMAGINARY CUPID DETECTIVES WON'T HELP. TOO LATE NOW. REST IN PEACE FUCKERSSS! HATE cupids and bastards and cupid bastards and this stupid motherfuckin' job.

"Oh for shit's bells, who's been fucking around with the recorder?! Jim, you again?! That was your last chance. Your ass is fired!" an authoritative voice would yell.

Creaky and smells. Basically, I was an old person.

Except I was technically young. But I will be creaky and I will smell once again, I guess. If I live long enough. If I die before I reach that state it won't make any difference anyway. Right before my death, in the final moments of my life, I'll be old. As old as I can ever be. Then I'll know. I'll understand. I think. Something.

People say we as humans always go full circle. I find this casual geometrical racism quite upsetting. What's wrong with a square? Does every square look the same to you, you round, boring, geometrically insensitive people? Fuck. When I was eighteen months old I first started to notice the ever-present discrimination in all areas of life and death. I would sit at the table on my special chair and muse about the state of the society and sometimes... Sometimes I'd break down. I would cry out, I would weep and I would spit out that awful spinach mash that was being forced down my throat by people who had "PARENT" written on their life uniforms, just like mechanics have "MECHANIC" written on their job uniforms. Everyone has to have a title in this world. Everything needs a branding, like a cattle, a hot iron induced burn mark that renders people more easily identifiable and cataloguable.

I do like spinach now, though.

Spinach has changed me, actually. It's my buddy now. When I was a baby I didn't see myself ever changing. Always thought I'll grow old just the way I was. Old. And when I become old, I'll be young again. But when I reached my fifth year on this sorry-ass planet it all began to unravel in my head. Realizations came flooding in like previously suppressed large amounts of water that now consumed and devoured defenseless, hopeless villages and villagers, villagers in villages built at the base of the mental dam. Change. There blew a wind. It was of change. I suddenly found myself understanding spinach, hell, liking it. I would sit for hours chewing baby spinach leaves which was ironic because I just stopped being a baby and I was basically eating babies and the thought of me being eaten by a grown up spinach just a year earlier when I still qualified for it... Ugh.

But it wasn't all bad though. Those were good times. There were good times. Fuck yeah, I swear. I could do things and get away with them. I could fiddle with toys and objects and human emotions and everyone would just laugh it off because I was a baby. I didn't have to worry about a great deal of things except for the world and the direction it's heading in and the overall deterioration of humanity and the beckoning downfall of civilization. I think I saw it first. At the age of three I became Harbinger of Doom so it was a lot to take in in my first few years but, well, I managed. It made me stronger. Looking back, I can't really complain. After all, I was being fed food for free, put to bed with love and care, had my ass wiped for me without a flinch of an eye.

Can't wait to grow old/young.

Creaky and Smells oh Creaky and Sme-e-ells

Full circle. Square. Triangle. Trapeze. Et cetera. Full et cetera.

We have to remember. Geometrical tolerance will shape our new, better tomorrow. It's the only way we can still save this planet. Should we fail, we will be back to square one. Circle. Triangle. Trapeze. Rhombus. Motherfuckin' rhombus.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

The Ballad of the Mead King

He rode on a dragon with a flagon in hand
He saw what they've done; destroyed all his land
It filled him with anger and vengeance he sought
He brought out his axe; its iron still hot

He traveled through plains and mountains he climbed
To find those responsible was on his mind
Not moved by cold wind he cut through the mist
Dusk or dawn, just him and the beast

He picked up a trail after dreary, long weeks
His fire still burning the scars on his cheeks
He followed the path, to old ruins it led
He felt their presence, those soon-to-be-dead

Hungry and thirsty but not for the food
He entered the lair like he knew he would
His dragon stood watch and waited for him
It trusted its master, its friend, to the brim

Soon he encountered his wretched old foes
Slain them one by one, made his way through the halls
Axe in full swing; he was a hailstorm, a flood
Soles of his boots soaked in the blood

The innermost chamber remained to be cleared
The leader of traitors there cowered in fear
No use was to beg for mercy at all
For the axe sank deep and split open the skull

All the destruction, the chaos, the screams
It caused the ruins to crumble it seemed
Among falling rubble he dashed toward light
He lept off the ledge, saw his dragon in flight

His glory reignited; his name sung again
He was a hero to the people, true king of his men
Upon the completion of the most glorious of deeds
He retreated with his dragon and drank all the mead

Friday, February 27, 2015


It's an echo. This loud, familiar, repetitive sound.

THE sound. THE echo.

It's been here before. It always comes back.

We know it all too well.

After all, it made us into what we are today.

Way before we heard it we were shapeless.

Featureless objects floating in the water.

Flat like its surface.

Nothing deep about us.

Our fates yet to be determined.

Until we clashed.

Drifted for so long we were bound to clash.

That's when the sound happened.

It carried over the water, through the air, into the deeps.

We were left in awe... We woke up into the world.

Afraid of the unknown. Excited by the unknown.

Accompanied by the sound.

Way back then it was a melody.

I remember it to be a melody.

A masterfully composed collage of meaningful notes.

Every one of them was special.

Precious. Timeless. Glorious.

It kept on moulding us patiently.

Sculpting us and teaching how to live.

Day by day.

Until it crashed.

Something broke it, broke the record.

We didn't know when or how or why.

Woke up to it being reduced into the echo.

The echo we're hearing now. Just a snippet.

On an endless loop.

A faded memory. Shadow in the distance.

We're never getting back what we've lost that time.

We can only listen to a fraction of it.

Separately. It no longer binds us.

Hearing it is like putting a glass shard to our ears.

It cuts deep.

Constant reminder of days past.

Of what we've lost.

I wish it would stop.

I want it gone. Gone for good. All of it.

All what's left of it.

So I'm trying to get rid of it by myself.

No luck yet.

But I think... with a bit of help...

From someone else out there.

One day I will listen to a full melody again.

Even make it my own one.

If I can be so bold.

A better one.

With a bit of help.

Compose it with someone.

Our own melody.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015


He wasn't told to go away.

He was chewed up and spat out.

Out of the window.

Sent plummeting towards his demise.

Face down into a brick road.

Yet somehow survived.

Bid his time.

Climbed back up.

Kept knockin' on the window.



They closed the shutters.

Crushed his fingers.

Sent him flying down... again.

How many times can he fall?

How many times can anyone fall?

Someday he will stop.

Cease to exist.

Sooner or later.


Become extinguished.

Everything has an end.

His end is the end of his everything.

His everything will be the end of him.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


I can't stay here any longer. I have to leave, put the place behind me. Jump into a car and smash the rearview mirror. Fire up the engine and cast off with the screech of tires.

Don't look back.

Never come back.

Coming back... It would mean death.

The place... it became something else. At first, its foundations were laid unbeknownst to anyone, a quiet work on the side, at night, with nobody watching, nobody noticing anything. Beautiful craftsmanship, unlike any I have ever seen was being brought into life during long nights that seamlessly blended into early mornings. It was like a summoning spell bringing the best a different dimension had to offer. The place kept on developing, stacking up on walls and floors, reaching higher and higher every night, every day, every time.

After a while, the people who made it and turned it into their home... they invited me in. Frankly, up to that point I have been looking for a place like that all my life.

So when the question was asked, batting an eyelid wasn't even an option. I moved in.

Jumped in with both feet and dove in.

What a decision that turned out to be. If I was to make it again I would do it a thousand times over.

Everything good that ever happened, happened in the place. Initial fears turned out to be unsubstantiated. Things went smoothly. Things were beautiful. People were beautiful. Wonderful things, wonderful people, palpable emotions filled the interactions between me and them. I wanted it to last forever. I was ready to take it all in. I have given everything.

But the place... it became something else. Cracks started to show. People kept leaving the place and refused to come back. Their ranks, our ranks, grew thinner and thinner. They stopped caring, they stopped asking, stopped answering, just stopped. Slowly drifted away and took a sharp turn behind the horizon.

Worst part was I had no idea why.

Why? Why... WHY?

I guess what I've given wasn't enough to keep them.

I was left alone.

So today I finally gathered up the courage to look around me. I looked at the place for the last time. I'm still looking at it. It reminded me, still reminds me, of all that was ever good in my life.  Every wall, every inch, every empty space contained within the place is a relic of the past, a museum exhibition of happy, kind, silent moments that were no longer. It crumbled. Nothing is invincible. Nothing ever lasts.

That's the death.

Despite the pain it eventually brought, I still kept on believing that we could restore the place to its former glory. But the people... they wouldn't listen. I know they could hear me but they wouldn't listen.

They moved on and I stayed behind.

Now it's my turn to go.

I'm standing here, at the porch, with my luggage packed.

Torn. Lost. Confused.

I still believe...


I don't want to go but I have to.

I can't go but I want to.

I need to...

Staying at the place would drive me insane. I would live in everything that I wanted but was never meant to be.

That's... beyond my strength.

I wasn't strong enough. I'm too weak.

But it wasn't me who gave up on the place.

What difference does it make now...

Question is... What do I do now?

The people... I can barely hear them.

What are they saying?

Do I take the step forward? Into where? Towards what?

What if someone comes back to the place?

I don't want to leave......

I have to...

I can't, I can't, I can't

Thursday, January 15, 2015


Know this feeling, falling into the ocean
Keep on falling, that’s all you’ve got left
Know this feeling, emptying your emotions
They take their time, they’ve had their fill

Crash against the tide, diving into the ocean
Keep on diving, that’s all you’ve got left
Crash against the tide, overtaken by the motion
The deeper you end up, the easier to let go

Filled with silence, drifting into the ocean
Keep on drifting, that’s all you’ve got left
Filled with silence, moving with devotion
It will be over, it’s almost the end

Breathe no more, fading into the ocean
Keep on fading, that’s all you’ve got left
Breathe no more, soak in the deadly potion
Close your eyes, lay yourself to rest 


Filled with silence, drifting into the ocean
Keep on drifting, that’s all you’ve got left
Filled with silence, moving with devotion
It will be over, it’s almost the end

Breathe no more, fading into the ocean
Keep on fading, that’s all you’ve got left
Breathe no more, soak in the deadly potion
Close your eyes, lay yourself to rest