The LabDr.Von Heck sat in his laboratory. This was not the ordinary clean, white lab, no, this was a dusty lab, its walls were of black, charred stone, some splattered and dripping with unknown substances and were covered with a damp blanketing of mold, its floors covered with various mechanical parts and pieces. And nor was Dr.VonHeck was an ordinary scientist, his hair was grey and his skin ghostly pale, his crazed eyes seeming to retreat in to their sockets. The room was lit only by torches mounted on brackets that cast flickering shadows on the walls. A large contraption, no, monstrosity, cobbled together from household appliances and metal scraps, its parts gleaming with malice, sat in its center. A brilliant flash of lightning was greeted by a humming noise emanating from the device and a sickly smile and hoarse laugh from the mad scientist.
“Ha-ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha-ha, ha, ha, ha!”
As the maniacal mirth reached its peak, it suddenly ceased, and was replaced by a hacking cough
Shades of DarknessDon't you wish the world is as it seemed?
Don't you wish the world was black and white,
Defined lines, between darkness and light
where Good is simply good, and bad simply bad?
Angels and demons
Heros and villains
But everything in life is blurred
Like figures viewed through water
All shades, all greys,
No good or bad but shades of darkness?
Shattered StarsBroken glass shines under streetlamps like glittering stars,
Like distant lights from far away,
Pulled from their seat in the heavens,
What force could of pulled these stars from their places?
Razor sharp beauty, glittering like forsaken diamonds,
Dashed apon the ground.
Refracted a thousand times,
In the tiny mirrors,
Each with it's own reflection,
A thousand copies of me in the glass.
As I leave, the shards twinkle behind me.
Shattered stars smashed apon the concrete.
City LightsI stood up to the sky
Standing far above the city lights
You can see everything from a mile high
Its just one of those summer nights
This city stops for no man
Stepped out on the black top
All the chaos, all the disquiet
The city that will not stop
Follow the flow, you just cant fight it
This city stops for no man
All these people going somewhere
They don't look up from the concrete
Breath in the city air
The city makes you obsolete
This city stops for no man
Hear the beat of a distant drummer
Making music on the street
Feel the pulse of his speaker
But this city has its own beat
And this city stops for no man
Lost myself in the crowd
Personal identity lost in ashes
My mind covered in shroud
Become one of the huddled masses
Yearning to break free
This city stops for no man
They use papers to hide faces
They don't want you to see
They bear the colors of so many races
But they all have one thing in common, they wish to be free
This city waits for no man
This place once stood for golden d
Grandfather's CoatMy grandfather
once gave me his leather jacket
I had always asked to wear it
And with a smile on his wise face
He let me
It smelled faintly of tobacco smoke,
of old leather,
like old books, hard work
It smelled like age, like dirt,
like my grandfather.
It didn't fit me
The sleeves hung towards the floor,
Hanging loosely off my small frame.
I never forgot the feel of wearing it,
I could pretend I was him,
Wise, strong, respected.
I wore it like armor
Like a protective shield
When I felt alone, afraid
I found a pair of sunglasses
In one of the pockets,
Next to a mothball.
And I tried them on
Imagining what he had seen through them.
Years later, I found that jacket
In an old box in the attic
I put it on again
With his sunglasses
And I found an inside pocket
That I had never explored
Inside was two pieces of folded paper
I unfold them
One is a black and white
Of my grandfather, young
Standing in military uniform
Wearing the sunglasses I wear now
I carefully unfold the other
Finding a yello
WordsWords to dance, words to sing
Words to hold, words to cling
Words to hurt, words to heal
Words to take, words to steal
Words to fight, words to burn
Words to read, words to learn
Words to build, words to make
Words to smash, words to break
Words to hope, words to dream
Words to look, words to seem
Words to run, words to fly
Words to laugh, words to cry
How to say nothingSilence speaks. It fills the cracks between words, hovers between lover's lips, gives a sentence a breath. Silence can convey emotion unlike words ever can. Silence screams, it howls like a blizzard wind, or lulls like a sweet song. Silence is not unnecessary, it is not useless, it does not waste breath, or speak when it is not needed. Silence can speak a sentence, with out words, it can tell a story, it can convey anger, or sadness, it can tear a room apart, it can speak of love, or loss. Silence is nature's song, deep, calming, pulling you away from reality.
Graveyard of forgotten dreamsWhen dreams are forgotten, do they die?
Forgotten, alone, where do they fly?
Do they wash up on some unknown land,
The wishes, hopes, laying on the sand.
Do they stay inside, the weight pulling me down,
Piling above my head, they cause me to drown.
Or do they all slink away to some unknown place?
The abandoned dreams laying forgotten in the space.
Like a graveyard where the dreams lay in rest.
The forgotten hopes stay suppressed.
Now abandoned, now alone,
This is where they are home.
Too big, to large, nothing more then hopeful thoughts,
Products of what life has wrought.
Do they lie six feet underground,
Forever lost and never found?
Into dreamsLaying, on my bed,
Surroundes by darkness and silence
The moon beams shine through covered windows
I feel my mind beginning to slip away
As I feel the pull of sleep tugging at my eyes
I feel weightless, laying there
Slowly, my eyelids shut
And I become still
As I fall asleep
My mind slips
Storm CallSeasong carries
over water, away
Sailing the wind
To the end of day
High fidelity, hearken
A weather eye
When autumn skies
Clouds scatter and flee
Before taking flight
Between here and away
The moment stretching
The pause between breaths
The calm that comes before the storm...
Ocean already tugs at the lifelines.
A whisper of cooler Atlantean air
The storm comes
From the breath of susurration
To the thundering wave's drums
Inexorably now, it comes.
Caught up by horizon storms
The shore beneath you disappears
The sea provides fair warning.
And from the savage night —
Full-throated furies howl and rage —
High and dry by morning.
Cast up by the sea
Strange creatures and mysteries
Leave beachcombers to wonder
But what the sea provides
The storm-surge yie
Painting the SkyMother Nature:
Effortless in her grace,
Flawless in her beauty,
The world a canvas,
With her palate of infinite color,
Any method or tool at her disposal.
She is the master of pieces,
The composer of ancient lyric,
The writer of every story,
The artisan of all trades.
She paints the heavens at dawn
With hues of violet, orange and rose,
And strains the clouds on the horizon.
The rising sun’s light reflecting off their surfaces,
Cascading vibrance onto the weary eyes
Of those in slumber, and those awoken long before.
She calls the birds to sing the melodies
Known to them by heart,
And as they face the new morning,
They bravely sing the intricate verse,
A language all their own,
But one that all are blessed to hear.
She takes her brush and streaks it across the clouds,
And carefully flicking the moisture down to earth
She adorns all things with the finest crystalline water,
Dew covering the grasses,
The weaving of spiders,
The flowers untouched by crude hands.
She gently blows a sin
ForgottenBlot the fetid spews of Autumn
Every blossom once soft; Now rotten
Vegetation once lush; Now sodden
Swallowed by earth; A promise solemn
All those fallen will birth new pollen
Each lives on; be naught forgotten..
NaiadI am of the tall kelp and hard cliffs made
I do not bow, I do not break
I am coldness, I am hunger
No one is older, no one is younger
My soul is pure yet deep as the lake
Into which Bedivere returned the magic blade.
If you find me hiding in the reed
Do not be frightened by my blue-grey face
Men who come wish to cover me in dresses
But I’m fine, my dignity saved by my black tresses
Women may leave an offering of delicate lace
Or gold coins, as if my hunger is one of greed.
But don’t come too close to the water brink
I am the guardian of all those who sleep
Eternally in seas dark and rivers wild
I embrace every spurned lover and unwanted child
And drag them down, for my sisters to keep
Close to their hearts, their blood to drink.
each autumn is another springautumns where every leaf is
a fumbling wildflower and
every deep sunset where colours bleed
against the horizon,
pools of melted copper and
shreds of cloud like glittering morning
i hope you realise how each
autumn is another spring
three blackbirds fly across painted skies,
tearing up the dust i
can still taste the peppermint the sugar
hills and every midnight, dandelions they
dance in my chalice of
chipped china coffee mugs.
slept, bluebells, baby crocus
buds swept a
peek round my doorway and
I didn't prepare for a drenched bouquet of
silk netted soaked morning lights on
my doorstep when
i'm still dreaming of circled
street-lamp hues as soft as whispers that
hang high above the
dew drops in the air
-come take me there.
SuprasolarWe call it the Local Group,
this, our neighborhood of galaxies,
in which only a single star
is even remotely reachable.
And we tell ourselves
to dream big.
That hard work
will get us there.
But on the cosmic scale
our collective capacity
For every star in the Milky Way,
all four hundred billion or more,
there is a galaxy.
Even the Local Group
Yet since dreams are orbital
we hold our breath to reach them.
And when we perish in the vacuum
the stars still burn
everything that matters.
DisdainThe statues crumbled
At the might of the earth
She holds such disdain
Towards our shattered idols of marble.
The likeness of the stars
Gifted by the gods
Erected upon her surface,
But intolerant is she.
She shakes so harshly
And spits up her core
Betrayed, she feels,
As we put pale ghosts before her.
Winds of ChangeContact calm,
You feel me upon your face as you open the window.
A soft breeze,
So delicate to which a flower petal cannot compare.
For that voice you hear in the air so euphonious.
A twist of rage begins my cycle, a force to reckon with.
A cyclone of fury rips across, destruction in my wake.
Calm replaced with chaos, removing everything in sight.
I die down,
Torrential convergence from wild back to mild.
Wolf songThe pine trees sway in an unseen breeze, needles rustle noisily in the breath. The stars shine like pin-pricks of light through a pitch black blanket overhead. The moon rises, drifting over the treetops. In the distance, an eerie sound begins to drift upwards over the trees, hauntingly beautiful, the pitch rising and falling, gently rolling. My hair stands on end, lifting. A shiver passes through me. I hear it again, the mournful tone wavering, in the darkness, from far off it echoes in the night. I wish I could respond, sing in response to the song, but I do not know the language. Its haunting melody sings of loneliness, of sadness, hunger, its tone is wild, untamed, free. From another spot in the darkness, a call answers, singing along with the lone wolf. Soon the forest is alive with the song of wolves. And I look up at the stars, listening, to their song.