World of Love

Sometimes I wish.

Sometimes I just sit,

Because in the moment,

That seems all I have the power to do

That’s because, in fact, I don’t have the power.

I have the words, and well… the words have me.

Though, reciprocation, mostly I don’t see.

But I try not to be bitter.

I try not to give in to resentment.

For I don’t know all;

I can’t witness all.

No matter what I wish.

Life, the world, it is a complicated place.

Far beyond the words sent my way.

I want to feel; I want it to be often.

Maybe one day I could hear.

Maybe one day I could see.

Yet, I try to understand why this might not be.

The Truth

People do not like truth.

It is an inherent ability.

The dissonance ascribed to  absolute credibility.

Why is this so?

Are we that scared to find what’s beneath?

The demon that resides within us each?

Or maybe it is something different;

A need to believe;

In something we can never truly be.

Why not simply be who we are?

The person that we see…

The one that doesn’t require us to be on one knee.

Blatant Credence

Life, it is so goddamned smart.

Living here, dying there.

Asking questions;

Fucking everywhere.

Look to the past, it is a drag.

Wondering what it is that’s there.

Am I paranoid;

I wouldn’t doubt it.

Look, it’s not that I am depressed.

Just looking for something of a rest.

Do not lie when I say this.

But please stop with the relentless theories.

Is there any certainty.

Here I sit, wondering what’s in store for me.

An endless judgement of absurdity.

How can this be true reality?

I get the train to one pure place.

Seeing our land of utter disgrace.

In the eyes, of us the people.

Taking each view in blatant credence.

Loneliness, my dear friend.

Faking it to the bitter end.

But do please stand by and stare;

While I rip out my fucking hair.



A New World

Him, and him alone.

Wandering the streets of long ago.

Stranded in this world which he calls home.

Everything regarded as a potential foe.


It is in this he sees no humanity.

Seeking friends on this lonely day.

Resisting against the pull of insanity.

Wondering if a star might guide his way.


The owls, they shriek at night.

The crows caw throughout the day.

He thinks, do they even feel fright?

What about the creatures they soullessly slay?


For he remembers, he has killed a man.

It was in self defence, he relentlessly insists.

From this, and his past, he ran;

To join the fight and enlist.


He saw no hope in those dear men.

Those that life tainted to the very core.

Should he remember this again and again?

Or wish that he, himself, was no more…



The Wild Man

Here walks the man.

Curiosity his other half.

Both danger and surprise, lurking.

He lunges onward nonetheless.

His destination unnamed.

His prerogative blowing in the wind.

Something of an enigma in his head.

Dreams, they run to the sun.

Wondering if he might ever reach;

A place without that brisk breeze;

Without the untamed sins.

Or is this just one of those things,

That blows in the wild of the wind.

The Fated Land

Across the vastness of the southern hemisphere.

Rides a man, world-skirting in his ship.

Maybe he sees what others do not.

The simple beauty of a place man forgot.


It is with this he cruises along.

Looking at the world with a sense of being.

Sensing a hand of fate;

Guided across this perpetual landscape.


Occasionally, a glint shines from his eyes.

Witnessing spires of a time long ago.

Veering off course; people say it’s derivative.

Though, he sees it as his moral imperative.


For the day might come when he will land.

Placing his feet upon those fated sands.

Grasping towards where no man stands.

Starting anew, here, no matter all the places scanned.