Age and all

The mental breakdown
Dementia breaks down
Each Life,Like,Vic,Tim

At stroke of Midnight
Cat purrs he let Jim
Stroke for midnight gym

Those who can, survive
Those who can't, serve chills
News that cancer kills

In the end: return we must
Each takes turns to turn to dust
But he minds the lives we live

Or at least I hope there is
One who made us, one to give
Our lives back to, rest in peace.

Self conscious bias

I am -- lost for words
I can -- only give
Worlds, images old

My eyes, they are closed
A game, as it flows
Across my mind's reel

The spine of a hill;
A start -- now it snows,
Covering the trail;

Fresh footsteps they bear
The way before fog:
Follow, round the bend.

Step, step, and descend;
Snow turns more mushy:
Slush, slush, it's a dream

I step into stream
Of subconsciousness;
I unravel.

In

Travels
Through my mind
I can but find

The search and research
Of that which can't be
Like a proof, deduced

Or even reduced.
Ink on my forehead
Unwitting witness

If all is witless
How fine and reckless
This series of dreams.

Fire

in the woods,

after some trees fell
under soil’s cover they did tell
how to protect themselves
and rooted for each other
against rabbits and elves

but for us,

who are wolves to each other
roots mean strife
and shoots mean shooting at each other
as we break down walls of cement
and of our moral selves

and let out Mr Hyde
from our souls’ prison cells
taking lives, dignities, prisoners
so fire and iron can rain down
and take anger’s captive

a fresh generation

Dialogue 2

I want friendship, not lust
        oh. you’ll be cured of that soon enough
but will my heart be unfaithful?
        not when you’ve been kept up all night
        by the worry of her plight
but will I think of others?
        depends on how you choose
how will I choose?
        with free will and predestination as your guide
        believe in good destiny
        so you can choose what is right

Dialogue

"Silence
— don’t want to hear those sirens,
for those who leapt for violence,
whose fate caught up with tyrants,
of those who ‘llowed its finance:
silence us."

"You are so alike, my friends despondent
as the pagan world of beauties fades
you long for something you fear is lost
and feel the winter of discontent closing in.
— You draw on your cigarette
like a man who keeps waking himself up
lest he should fall asleep."

"We look the same to you, through your myopic lens
you speak and we shudder
you read aloud from dead letters that froze
people’s hearts ever since medieval times.
— The walls you build are a prison
they keep you locked in your mind,
like the division between good and bad."

"Yes, winter is coming, but the tyranny you see
is not from this house being built.
See, the wind is howling, and the light
from this stone house shines afar..
— Come, get inside, there’s tea to warm the heart,
and once winter subsides
you can go and play outside."

Second childhood, second birth

you fall back
into the bed whence you came

how can you stay faithful
how can you be to blame

when you know not who is holding your hand
like a baby, but a baby is not in pain

her cries make you stronger, while yours
make you weaker still

it is the road you must travel
(as must all, in time)

give her grace, give us grace
to tread that last bridge lightly

let burdens drop

let ballast fall

let self remain and when called
make it across water wide

and let there be someone waiting
to take her hand on the other side

Universitas

Two decades of rain have
washed over the sandstone quad where
we searched for meaning in stars together

With teenage intensity of the soul
you talked of novels and fllms

and I tried to take it all in

In culture, girls (and bohemian vices), you were far ahead

where you had wit, I had pathos and burlesque

but we shuddered together at the thought of death

Björk danced in the dark
and I cried, stepping into the light
if only friendship could be mended

Like the tyres on a bike.