calculateddark

Harsh, light of day breeds misery, truths Best left concealed in darkness, left To rot as the dregs of autumnal leaves, Crushed, torn beneath the foot of rejection. Drag back the hands, stop the clock, Pause time at that most poignant moment, The moment before my acid burnt Through the reds, the yellows, the vibrant Hues of something now half forgotten, As it lies there, tattered, ragged as the Wings of a moth grabbed by hasty fingers. Twilight of my thoughts, pursued relentlessly By the darkness of not knowing, chewed on By the rabid maggot of confusion, Dissected, analysed, stored away for later use. Bone weary of the pri

PHOENIX.                MAY  2002 Sitting alone in a deliquescent room, Wondering if the truculent sun will rise And reveal to me the nature of truth. Alone I sit,alone I\'ll live,alone I\'ll die. The energy,the spirit within is stifled, But the phoenix they say shall rise To seek the reality in this fantasy. The space I inhabit is wrapped in shadow. People are as specks in an empty wilderness, As they blindly fight through forests Of modernity,forgetting their roots. The future becomes history,the past is lost. Sitting alone, I regret what is lost In the infinity of my thoughts, As my face persists in betraying my truth. What

Darkness filled the room, inky black and dense in fragments of negativity. She sat in bed, staring into the emptiness of night, eyes dull and glazed over with something unfathomable. As she continued to stare unseeingly into the chasm of nothingness, scenes replayed themselves over and over within her mind, as though some old family movie had been set to play back select memories. A child, maybe aged six or seven, giggles as she does headstands and cartwheels in a small, neatly kept garden, then plants herself in a rockery, as though hoping to bloom someday. That same child a year later, sitting up in bed, screaming, having had a dream about

UNTITLED.                JUNE 2002. Time passes its shadows over all those who wait Patiently for the stars, infinitely vivid, infinitely Eternal in their obscure nature of light. Lost reason, as the maggot gnaws perpetually On the flesh of thought, removing by careful Segmentation the philosophy of logic. History extends the catechlismic split of desolate Waters, stagnant in black blood of ancestry, Destructive beneath the hand of Mars. Nature writhes in the discontented passions Humanity spews, as the blind vision betrays The eye of long forgotten wisdom. Life ravages it\'s spectral watchers as the clock Fragments, splintering