Inhale, exhale; breathe in, ignore. 

The soul exudes spirits once more. 
I walked, I tripped, I fell and rose,

Trapped as I was; people would close. 
A bird of prey, a stalking moth,

Attracted to a deadman’s cloth. 
Arisen from the grave below,

I fell subject to its false glow. 

Poets who dream are lovers blind,

For when the void comes creeping in

And all around in darkness’ grin

The poem’s truth can hardly find,
You will find hope in hopeless rants,

Honour in deeds hard to recall ;

And as you watch the Spirit fall,

And get drawn in by sycophants,
You will recall the lover’s plight,

The one who did fight back the urge,

Drew his sword stout against the Surge

And welcomed Death in his last fight. 



Beast ! Ô Beast of the Earth!

Beast ! Listen to the words !

Strewn away by your misdeeds !

Heed the horns of warning high on crack !
Truth be told there was it, torn !

Decayed, rotting, despairing corpse !

Ghost in this hell, wanderer of the realms !

Plotting for your own desperate cry, free, hopeless !
Feel the wind, the yoke no longer draws !

The beating, of the drums ; dreams linger !

Rejoice for the daring, the lovers, the fools !

Guns blazing and swords clashing ; the Heroes !
And then, you shall Fall ; and in the Fall, the Sickness !

The burning of the Pride, the Joy of Heresy !

And the Flames collide and spread the seeds of Life !

When, with all my Heart in Peace of Mind !



When I die put me in the earth, dear,

Somewhere men nor beast nor demon,

Nor the depth where we do belong,

Put me so deep that I won’t fear. 
When I go, please, forget my life,

Forget my sins, forget my goals,

Forget my strides, forget me whole,

Forget my life that I may strife. 
That I may strife against my past,

Against the man that once was glad,

The man you knew, the man you had,

But let his life pass on too fast. 
That I shall go and come again,

For when all life is come undone,

When all we know is come and gone,

Then shall we burst from this fane. 


Forceful March

All Trees do grow, but when do we,
Stuck in a whirling endless dream,

Forced to listen to whispers scream?

How do we tell the time to flee?
All Men do die, but when do I,

Stuck in a spiraling mare,

Forced to witness the others dare?

How do I tell my time is nigh?
With heavy eyes I’m forced to watch,

As Death gathers around and out

With a sinful and heartless pout,

The hallowed breath of the endless march. 


The Fire

Oh Days gone by,Oh Dreams of old,

I feel so cold,

As Death draws nigh. 
Oh Fields of green,

Oh Glory past,

Nothing does last 

As Death is seen. 
Have you not heard,

Have you not felt,

Three Winters’ pelt,

As Rome has burned?
Have we done wrong,

Have we brought sin?

The wheel did spin,

As Rome’s last song. 



To O. W. 
I have learnt few, but did so well,

That I may die in such a way

But never cast my soul astray,

And plunge head first unto the well. 
I have learnt this : all men shall die,

For it is ours, this burden low,

That throws upon our souls a blow,

And forces all to yield and cry. 
But Death comes forth, and mankind too,

For we do bare and we do stare,

And the void lone knows what to dare,

And we know not, and we keep true. 
But Truth is bold and so are we,

From sands to storm we stand on proud,

And Rome did fall ; what of the cloud,

And of the dream of history?
For we do dream, and we do aim

To keep the void from taking all,

To keep the meaning from the fall,

But we do hurt and so we maim,
For we do take and so we kill

To keep our lives from being dull,

To keep our hopes from the dark cull,

But we do hurt and do so still. 



There goes the highlight of my day :
When I have watched my children sway,

When I have seen the end so grey,

When all I knew has gone away. 
There goes the story of my life :

When I have watched all people knife,

When I have seen the end so nigh,

When all I knew is sung by fife. 
There goes the life I dearly hold :

The end to which is grim in mold,

The life I lived, the one I loathed,

The life I knew, but now is told. 

Live your live once, but live it well,

Or it shall fall, deep in the well,

The stream of time, that once did tell,

Of every soul, that once did dwell.