Death is often cruel.Death has a way of stealing things precious,denying you a certain satisfaction. But Life is crueler.Life gives you hope, but never offers catharsis,crushing you under petty detractions. I am left to wonder the choice: Is it worse to be left alone,to have survived the perils of false adoration?Or be rejected by someone … Continue reading A Planned Obsolescence
Category: Poetry
A Tinge of Reality
So comes the hour of fateful doom, Our entrance into the writer's tomb, Rich in literary heirlooms, "Behold!" says I to the schoolroom, Which responds with a silent gloom, No student yet knows how to use Zoom.
Robbed Denouement
We paused beneath the shade of a tree,To rest and tend to my injury,But my companions I urged them - hike on, Leave me behind, go on without me. Rustling leaves stole their voices anon, Left alone, my thoughts lingered upon The distant wonder of a lost view, Near the summit, my robbed denouement. The … Continue reading Robbed Denouement
Drinks left unfinished
Children grow restless, Begging parents to go home, Drinks left unfinished, I have no place to complain, I chose to live life alone.
Echoes of Ville d’Ys
A sense of drowning, I cannot elude, In this interminable solitude, There are so many holes in my bedroom, Pouring water in gouts of sea-green blooms, But when I flee from these confining walls, The sound of rushing water follows all, Even the city is littered with holes, Gaping like oceanic nightmare-souls, Swallowing consciousness without … Continue reading Echoes of Ville d’Ys
An Ancestral Gift
Mother told the tale,About our ancestors' deal,The oath that we now live by: We were soldiers, once,We served lords by ending lives,Until none but ours survived. We turned to old faiths,So that sins may wash away,From our bloodied hands and eyes. But then, it is said,That those who live by the sword,May never find peace … Continue reading An Ancestral Gift
The long trek home
A cool drizzle falls, Darkening the road to home, Set a light for me.
Idyllic
Light streams in gold bands, Old cat yawns on the warm floor, I laugh, but yawn too.
When at last I die
When at last I die, I leave behind books, flowers, And bottles of wine, Faint memories, yours and mine, These I entrust now to time,
Kintsugi skies
Morning rains roar light, Illuminating the sky, Cracks shining like gold.
Discarded Recollections 