Monday, August 16, 2010

When darkness meets darkness in a dark room, light happens.

Words swirl in a mad dream, crooked half-turns become wonderfully crooked half-turns, and reason itself goes for a spot of moonbeam.

Sunday, August 1, 2010


the sound of fire
by the hour
your face melts
into mine;
And I pine
for my rose,
love, stay close,
for the kingdom
is at hand,
or is it
a nonsense flick
on a hazy screen,
I wonder, girl,
if at all,
I had touched the tip
of what lies beneath
the barren stars
and I wonder,
what colour are your lips

Deathly hallows

Tonight the stars are all gray.

Sorry, I never thought about the end;
That wide waters may drown my stone,
I would rather not see in my dreams.

My colours merge into your dull eyes,
And the curtain silently moves along
my hatred for you. I break free of my guilt,
in a moment of immense solitude.

The words turn into hyacinths, all white,
They cling together throughout the torrent of silence,
I almost smile, when the rain stops in the afternoon.
Your words, they die in your blazing chariot, like the wish of light.

Tonight I'll get to see the stars.