Home

Dancing around potholes in the cobbled street
Sneezing with every swiveling clouds of dust
Home they said is all in the heart,
Luckily, the heart doesn't have eyes. 
But does home sound like the heart?
Or like the whistle of the winds on the tin roof,
Or the constant humming of the crystal creek? 
Like the heavy footsteps of the tired labourers
Or like the sound of the tired hoe attacking the barren soil? 

Home is like my old and tired mother 
A hidden world of safety and comfort
Struggling yet strong
Dying yet thriving
Hopes abound
Content! 

Traces of You

Wherever I am, 

Wherever I go, 

I find traces of you

In the lines of a song

In the rays of a sunset

In the sounds of the rain

In random laughter 

On Sundays

And prayers

And many daily things

To my walls

Dear walls, you have seen and heard everything, 

and I know you have seen me at my worst 

but have you ever seen me at my best, 

for I can't remember. 

You have seen me break-down into silent sops of forsaken nightmares 

but how often have you heard my laughter? 
-Remind me now, for I need to know that all were not black. 

Dear walls, you've seen me love and hate with the same fire, 

tell me what do I wear better? 

Tell me if I look better with tears soaked angry smiles 

or with the lifeless smile of a rotting spirit? 
-Remind me now, for I need to know that all were not as bad. 

Dear walls, you've seen me slip into the wide open arms of self hate 

and crawl through the filth of existence to a semblance of life, 

tell me why do you stay still? 

Tell me, dear wall, that there is a reason still of why you and I are here still. 
- Remind me now, for I need a reason to live another day. 

The Old Oak Tree

 Upon that old oak tree where the songbirds sing

Wherein my childhood laid I upon it's flatten branch 

To gaze upon the blurring horizon beyond my reach

Dreamt I a world sweeter than the songbirds' songs

Upon that old oak tree where the songbird nest

Wherein I dreamt away the grim childhood of my reality

For a moment of peace undiluted by the cares of the world

Dreamt I while tearing the fresh saplings off the old oak tree

Upon that old oak tree where the songbird hatch

Lay I as the hatchling fed as I have never been

Pass I all the cares of this world as life leave me to hatch

Dreamt I of life as my rotting flesh feed the old oak tree