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  

Sensing Art

Scattered light drapes a grand cathedral,

golden dust upon her apricot hair.

Blue spell weaves through cryptic petals,

proximity of this piece most fair.

Published in: on 25/10/2015 at 2:39 PM  Leave a Comment  


A poem is a truth no longer,

for the self away from the past drift,

to death – her grand finale.

A poem is a clinging ghost,

for to doubt must doubts stand,

on the vision of the doubted.

A poem is a kaleidoscope shattered,

whose colours her creator cannot see,

when those forgotten memories hide.

A poem is a dead child,

a tragic weakness of the heart,

words the spirits engraved,

this death-loving art.

Published in: on 13/10/2015 at 6:48 AM  Leave a Comment  

My Reflected Friend

As my heart swings with this helpless tune,

I think of you my dear old friend.

From the greatest demise of liberty you descended,

to the plateau of this green deserted land.

Indigo skies in your morning hours,

Sleepless I’ll be in my palace of blues.

Anticipated a history of my corpse,

In our past we romanticised like fools.

Ringing bells in the blooming air,

Not signs of joy but songs of despair.

My friend my friend our beliefs may part,

yet our passions bind our dreamy scars.

We strolled in those blissful dusks,

uttering words of the most ambitious art.

how our thoughts stormed in the growling sea,

for our cherished world turns on our perishing hearts.


When you are gone, what lonely memories

fade in this tea hour.

To my friend, a caring, and for its caring a tormented soul. 

Published in: on 12/10/2015 at 2:01 AM  Leave a Comment  

Falling, If

Sweeping through the dull dresses, an encounter unforeseen.

Dream is a most welcomed guest, thoughtlessly I fell.

Must it bear the sorrows of Earth, the devil’s white wings.

Paralysed in ecstasy, drowning in lavender well.

Mesmerised by the unbearable tales, in sweet airs afloat.

Playground of painful charms, the witch’s cat coat.

Am I embracing or abandoning? My being orbits.

Sleepless hours, a swan caressing my little boat.

Published in: on 05/10/2015 at 6:20 AM  Leave a Comment  

The Sunset of Canberra

Crimson dusk over the countryside,

a peaceful diminuendo. 

Ripples serenading a mid-lunar night,

a tender wind, a baton of delicacy.

A caring heart, a graceful soul,

a man of modesty.

The sweetness of music, a child of nature,

my good friend.

26 July 2013 A.D.

Published in: on 04/10/2015 at 7:40 AM  Leave a Comment  

The First Night of Spring

Much yet I seek to see, yet.

Mad am I? Of it aware I am.

Rushing in the clouds, the stormy clouds.

The rain thunders and the thunders pour.

On reunion, us?

How again shall we love thus?

The dancing floor and the creaking feet.

Swirling intoxication in the musty air.

Silent so. Appetite?

What corpses with we to sleep,

when all but my senses die?

Gracefully feathered your dresses.

Faithfully condemned my blesses. 

The thunders pour, and the raindrops roar.

A semitone, above the stormy shore.

O! My Mont Blanc!

Waxy scents of a rhapsodising lore.

Published in: on 11/09/2015 at 2:29 AM  Leave a Comment  

The Crave for Darkness

A flash of the past in stone forged,

her cold eye hosts a graveyard crow.

Midnight breezes in silk dresses emerged,

serenading a deadly lover of woe.

Dolls charm the bedroom velvet,

in the dark palace of her hypnotic notes.

Withering roses and a cat tortured quill,

in belladonna bled her but last will.

The grand requiem of an unborn deceased,

who would sleep in a coffin diseased?

Sickened thoughts the most artful draperies,

of a spirit freer than a wasteland of souls.

Published in: on 19/08/2015 at 9:42 PM  Leave a Comment  

Serenade Melancholia

The past has been sealed,

in the stained land of melancholy.

How long since I last heard thee,

yet how your music again engulfs me!

Dared I not to intrude your grace,

for the fear of my amethyst heart.

Yet here I am enclosed by your dream,

on this earth I live, in the heavens I chart.

Alone the poet in his midnight blue, 

raining crystal bells on a weeping stream.

Dispirited streetlight a friend in the snow,

walking the pages of the idiot’s woe.

Folding waves of ballroom visits,

his majestical figure cannot be embraced.

Serenade Melancholia of lifeless tears,

a darkened fireplace in the ethereal cold. 

Published in: on 13/08/2015 at 4:04 PM  Leave a Comment