Frame of Nostalgia

Saw a photo of not so long ago,
Of a boy, myself, around six years old,
Smiling at the camera, his eyes glow,
If only I could tell him what he didn’t know.

He’s too young, lucky to be naive,
Lucky to not know the hardest ways to grieve,
To run and laugh with a mind at ease,
And eat all the fried foods laced with grease.

Beyond our names the similarities end,
We don’t have the same lives or friends,
Yet he wishes our relationship could mend,
Reaching out to me, his hand extends.

Seeing his hand, I reach out as well,
But only halfway, as I can’t really tell
If it is the karma of time trying to sell
An illusion of innocence I once felt.

He keeps his hand out, awaiting a greet,
No hesitation or speculation, I can’t believe
How much I’ve changed, I fall on one knee,
To hold the hand of a better me.

Between the Sheets

The deepest sleeps,
And dreams I adore,
Subconscious visions and feelings
Have me begging for more.
Love wrapping under the sheets,
Like shields against a world at war,
As soft and warm as a lover’s embrace,
Rumbling around my bed till it’s torn,
Until dreams turn to nightmares,
And the sweat of my body begins to pour,
Then I wake from the garden turned wasteland,
In a dark room, cold and alone.

Art of Deception

No fake smiles please,
Don’t try to tease me into a false belief,
Don’t show me the face of pretend,
Make bold statements then take your stance
among true men.

But especially don’t give me obvious lies,
Shown in your eyes that reflect under the light,
An image beneath a disguise,
Deceptive actions that have tainted mine.


Too many of them crawling around,
With the envy of what the mighty have,
Sneaking under our chins,
Trying their best to win
The favour of the naive,
So they push the buttons of annoyance,
Trying to find out what it takes,
For a strong man to break
Down below their level of disappointment.

Getting past your walls,
Initiates the intentional pursuit,
Doing their best to divide
The right and wrong in your mind,
An efficient way to confuse,
But we must never falter,
Lest we imitate the infiltrator,
A fallen angel trying to regain glory,
Climbing the backs of great men like ladders.


Choking on the air that I need,
Spitting out the fumes,
I can’t even breathe,
A shock that went through
Hardened blood and softened teeth,
Suffering for things I don’t do,
Assault of blame from an arrogant fleet,
My esteem buried in the dunes,
The wind pulling me through my sheets,
Seems like gravity never knew
Of how close I was to falling on my feet,
It would pull me to the sands of truth,
And bury me beneath.

Chant of the Alphabet

All the days I lay awake,
Blood in my veins never taking a break,
Caressing my shoulders as they strain,
Dying slowly with every breath.

Easily the hardest thing I’ve done,
Feeling the heat under the sun,
Gazing through ultraviolet rays,
Having the least bit of fun.

Imagining the things I would do,
Just for a great moment with you,
Kill time without question,
Loving your body and soul.

Moving on to brighter thinking,
Never mind the sadness lingering
On the surface of my subconscious,
Power to the ignorance that controls us.

Quantities of emotions of lust and love,
Rising and falling as the days go on,
Savouring the memories I made,
Trying somewhat to make another one.

Under the thin layer of indifference,
Vast amounts of compassion and diligence,
Willing to share with a worthy beauty,
X’s and O’s she will be getting plenty,
Yelling my wish to the heavens,
Zero times have I been answered.


Masked in a sheet of cure,
The bringer of pain,
I should have just endured
the sickness I had,
And by the way,
Your advice was at fault,
I didn’t need your help as much as I thought,
I didn’t need to wait hours,
For something good to happen,
Feeling like my body fought against you,
And all the confusing pain I went into,
Making me urge the solace of a bed back home,
Where I could lay in my armour of sheets alone.