Misgivings

I met 

Myself from another time 

On the bus on my way back home 

He whispered to me

Of all he'd seen and heard 

And smelled and touched 

And lost along the way, while

Laughing through his children's eyes and trying through his own.

His rickety finger tapped timidly 

On the windows that block the

Precarious winds that seldom blow

Bringing the same strange relief of loss 

That lasts only a moment.

With pain and with pride, 

With guilt and forgiveness, 

Sometime

Somewhere 

I knew I'd reek 

Of the same regrets,

Of the same misgivings. 

Right now 

Right here 

I knew I'd rather not. 

To Memory

Let me feed the flame 

Around which we gather

To share meat, mead and stories 

Of embellished pasts

Let it grow

Unvanquished; As 

It sears through 

To memory, to morning light.

Search

I'm very existentialist in nature. I think we are the product of chaos. And I strongly believe we were born with no purpose. We make purpose. And we do so at the off-chance of having to make something significant, make a change, change a life for better or for worse, to inspire thought and progress. And that's about it. I see no reason to believe in the unquantifiable. I choose to find beauty in this roll-of-the-dice nature of the universe. I believe in creating cause and reaping effect from the complexities of human life and working with constant motive toward this ideated "destiny" we seem to pursue, without which we are docile inanimate beings of nothing. The realisation of the limitedness of time is the beginning of everything we have and will ever achieve. In my humble opinion it is an inexcusable waste of this valuable resource waiting around for results from predestined notions of your conventionalised dreams. Success in this life of any sort is deeply dependant on the faith you put into the belief that cause will bring effect and only in practising the same will all you've worked for confluence with opportunity. Don't be delusioned by the idea that you're alive for a reason, you make reason for your time on this earth to be all you can be. Drop your search for the meaning of life because the true meaning of life is what you make of it. Accept that life is a series of randomised events that you can take a part in to influence. Only then can you find the time to accomplish what you want from it. 

Crystal

You're made of glass

I'll hold you close,

Cushion your fragile

Your tender pose

You're made of glass

You're set in stone,

You lie chest-down 

Your face unshown 

You're made of glass

With crystal eyes,

Heart on sleeve

You spell demise

You're made of glass

You're still a child

Rehearsed behaviour,

A practiced smile

Dhdh

Don't wither in your shell 

As you wait for your name to be called

Into the spotlight 

Rejoice in the fact that

A friend, a foe, a fear 

Finished first. 

Celebrate this loss and 

Learn

For this is not the end

Noise

Scream at the noise,

Scream at all the noise.

Rage on

Because that's what you'll do,

All you'll do anyway. 

Drag out all your demons 

From the shade of your smile

String it in with

Your hurtful,

Tasteless,

Sorry attempts to insult and belittle;

Go on ahead and

Scream back out to the

Traffic within and without you

So you can sleep through your dreamless eyes,

March to the beat of the rhythmless chaos that

Envelopes you and yours. 

And resort

To internalise the noise;

Become it. 

Fairytales for You and Me

I'll live another day

If the notes to your song

Can outweigh the words

That

Keep you afloat 

Like the rest of us

And make me swim on

For the hours that await

I'll live another day

If every frame 

And Every pixel of your creation 

Has the strength 

To capture the essence 

Of why you 

And I 

Seem to breathe 

I'll live another day

As long as the story

You tell 

Pushes it's way 

Through every fibre

Of my sequentially 

Ill-equipped existence 

And inspires.