Why is Life Short?

What measures have we with none to see?
Why wage wars in the name of liberty?
Our years are but the Autumn’s recurse;
when freedom haunted our spirits since birth.

Why do you enquire upon our hasty death?
Her secrets never parted our dreams.
You shut your eyes and plead for light;
she taunts and mocks our frailest pride.

Were we chained to dark cave walls,
we would ourselves live as gods.
Is not life short for our greedy hearts?
Are not graves our self-loving art?

But brood not o’er our passing eves,
over the mere nature of flowering leaves.
Paint on the canvas of your mind,
in years how you would this hour find.


Why must the beauty of life we miss,
in fragments distant yet dear?

Why do we chase after our beloved,
if she can never be near?

A world too finite for our childly beings,
besotted by the labyrinth doors.

If we were mere ladybugs,
would we then gaze at our world in awe.

Published in: on 24/11/2015 at 10:47 AM  Leave a Comment  

Infinitely Sad

What songs oh my memories bring, and memories bring to me!

Those old days not so long ago, that sunbathed place my letter reads.

What times were we so joyous, how our tunes sang of love.

Yet such times again and again, bewitched me then set me free!

Blues oh blue, so moody, so blue. A tuxedo and a hat, so black and wooly.

Fade and fade, warmth begone, left me with an emptiness so chilly!

Published in: on 16/11/2015 at 7:28 AM  Leave a Comment  

At the Verge of Madness

I dwell along the edge of a cliff,

at the summit where there are no clouds to save me,

so that I may in the beautiful explore,

though one day I will as the lightning fall.

I live on the verge of madness,

beyond the dichotomy of good and evil,

walking in the dress of the most divine,

yet I am nothing but a weak man.

Published in: on 15/11/2015 at 9:43 PM  Leave a Comment  

The Prodigy

You need not appreciate my past,

when my prodigal temperament cursed.

My most entropic devils,

a decaying genius from birth.

I crawled from earthly glories,

ascending for a gentler air,

yet how my youthful vigour,

haunts my sickened flair.

Still her dark curse floats,

from my canvas subtly flirts.

Night charms my hall of pearls,

an unforgiving dark world.

How tenderly my heart loves,

awaiting for a lover’s trust.

What truth of life awaits,

in the woods of wanderlust?

Published in: on 13/11/2015 at 3:23 PM  Leave a Comment