In the cosmos, a cloud reigns made of glass and silver, and the sheen of God shines through just a sliver.

There is a song, on the cusp of reality, a pigment on a skin, where the ends meet, and love is lost for a while.

The world was changing before our eyes, a dawn of a new era, it was all moving in the right direction, life was good, the only rule was to be happy.

Thumbing eagerly on the back of his hand, with his little feet in his back pockets, his blue eyes look around for compensation. A single penny falls into the basket, and a stranger walks away.

The blackness of the crow and the clouds above it, leave no trace to find, if God should ever look. And it is precisely why the crow must not be found, and why its children must be slain.

The fishwife was in the kitchen preparing a meal of onions and veal, and her husband was a working man, cleaning chimneys and gathering dust.

The breakneck of rocks sliding down a hill, with the chill of winter’s bone. Where the dark makes a nest with the Devil, in a leaving pact.

The sea shakes, as the thunders clap, and the mountainside hides her little doves.

The torrent of love, washed away to the open sea. As the breath of midnight, sang of her again and again. And I waited as the hours passed, and the lifeless hope told me to wait no more. And the covetous clocks all rang together, with tales never before known. And the one of the forlorn stature came to me soon, and said that this is not your fate. And he told me of stories that were secret, from the messages of all them seas. And I waited for salvation. And it did not come.

The summer came to an end, at the break of dawn. The cat went out on the street, with an intention only meant for wolves. He sat there for a while, and the bus passed by.

The grains of life must meet our duty. In a time capsule of the brain, the fool speaks of wretched lovers. The chair sits on the balcony of life, awaiting love in the endless sea of chaos.

The day tripper parks his boat, on the west side of the river. The lorry is set, and the day is bright, and there is not a cloud in sight.

A tiger’s heart, wrapped in golden robes. The lily pads of your soul, speak to me of broken glass. With the stern capabilities of a sailor, you left me wanting the sea.

The midnight sky opens up, with a clear white moon in a cup, as the clouds pull back on their violins, the starry night speaks with silence.

The water rung her bells today, and told of her farewell to the sea, as the time stood by the bay, letting in all that came to be.

Coming across the street, from where the elephants lie, you and I had sores on our palms and feet, so I just had to bless you.

The misty droplets on my face, soothe my soul for a minute’s passing.

For every poem was once a word, And a world of its own, A desolate keep of ideas, That were left unshown.

To Fiddler’s Green, We fled the scene, Out to the light, And the high beam.

As the arch of the skies, Swept aside for moonlight’s highs, The horsemen went for their long ride, And the old doors were cast up wide.

The eyes had drowned in mighty floods, As the earth washed away with soil and mud, And the birds went east and sought on yonder, To always find peace, but never to flounder.

Her dedication was to the sun, And the warmth of her days, From the kiss they were as one, And went on for most of her ways.

A reminiscing of the past, Just as the past is made, And only stillness is asked, To see the moments that fade.

Their eyes lit up, for the better, As they fell into a dreamy glow, For they had received a letter, All the way, from the North Pole.

The evening grows dark, Before I meet my mark, And the shadows breathe, Slowly, and then leave.

Take me home, to the old light poles, And the cobbled streets, and the moats, Let’s walk together down the road, And let the sunshine hold our loads.

The flowers are all banding together, They say it’s bound for a stormy weather, And the hang gliding spider tells the tale, Of the one who sought the famous ale.

Crystal vials with droplets of mischief, Lively roses with emerald handkerchiefs, Masquerading through a garden of flowers, Watching silently for the final hours.

It was in a place long ago, A land was covered with ice and snow, The birds sang freely on the line, And mountains waited for the time.

The shores were excited, when the seagulls came in. They had waited, and waited, but nobody came. While the waves washed aside, a little seashell began to speak. The Scripture is a lie, it told them, and the thunders began to rain from the sky. It was Odin’s son, and his elder was looking painfully thin and weary. It won’t be the last of me, he said. The shore brushed its waves to the side, and let the hour subside.

The sun is wrapped in barbed wire, The fish are mounting on the spire, The Cherokees are all heading home, Waiting for the one to bring the tome.

I heard of Napoleon and his tales, as the evening sky grew pale. His sword cried out high, when the demons were nigh, and the midnight swept its breath away.

Tell me now, great sailor. Did you miss the snow? Because it goes to show. You’re the only one who knows.

Tell me now, great traveller. Did you see the sky? Or did I catch a glimpse of tear, in your eye?

I am your father and I am the Lord. I am the one who strikes accord. To the mercy of the few, and gates of the many, let the words marinade like the morning dew.

Tell me you love me still, tell me I’m more than a thrill. Let love lead the way, and let fire lead the way. Let it be known that the roses sing your song, every time you come along, and let it be known that the fire breathes deep in your heart. Let it be shown, in all of your work of art.

Does the train, take the midnight pose? Does the fallen, leave a rose? Does the biding old urchin, leave us together? Does the world fall into one another?

As the sea rages, I find little birds in their black cages. They call to me, one by one, staring into the midnight sun. But it is not just for fun, it is for the will to be undone, until the morning come.

I am still breathing, and still serving God, the almighty savior of this earth. He comes to me in my dreams, and let’s me know, that not is all that seems.

I am ruthless. I am death. I am your very last breath. I am the paint peeling off the walls. I am the breathing in the halls.

Love is lost, and never found, death is close, and always bound. There is no cure for death, and it is waiting for us, at every doorstep.

It is precisely in Gods image, in which we are made, of stardust and love, on the love parade.

I sailed the seven seas, and found no one there, except an empty stair, and a scar, that wasn’t here. I looked around, but could not see, that my thoughts, truly had intruded me. So I came back, and found the dog of Odysseus, waiting there for me, patiently.

The sky is pink, and so are the flowers, drawing on the essence of the humble garden hours. Tell me not, if the rain falls down, but rather if the garden should wear a crown. It is to be all for me, these sunflower seeds, and the lightly breeze.

I would be true to you, if  you would be true to me, and we can always see, what flowers bring us in eternity. It is not for me to see, the ice on the fabled sheen, or the lightning bolts mighty gleam, but rather to love you, as you are, and as you will be; for that will be the only mean, for me.

As the fields green, the wave comes down low, telling you a story, from the mountains, to below.

A little lightbulb, Whiskering away, No one seems to, Bother her day.

The stars glitter, One by one, Pearls on a necklace, Singing you their song.

Of life and death, I am sure, But the rest of the world, Remains in a glass jar.

The spangles in the night, Leave you without fright, A warm blanket of dark, Covered in tiny marks.

I’m going in, said the night breeze, To the gentle summer trees, Let’s have the night, And make room for light.

As everything shall go, So shall one’s soul, And only thing left behind, Shall be one’s roll.

The moon goes under, As skies are shattered by thunder, And the stars are hanging by a thread, As the world comes to meet its dread.

The stars sang so softly, As the prism was formed, The jewell was made so lofty, As the wielder now dormed.

As I witnessed it glowing, In the stars, eons ago, The threads of life were woven, For the one who would know.

The love left her note at the door, the eve was draping all over the floor, as he left he noticed a subtle side, to her left you saw the mark of stride.

He had long forgotten his wife, as he came home from the war, For it was time for him to die, And he rested his head on a pillow, and gave out a sigh, a one last, final goodbye.

He kept his heart in a wooden box, Inside a drawer with a heavy lock, No one could access it, except Calypso, Who laid a curse on it long ago, forever not to show.

Poseidon could not contain his love, For he sought over the wildest seas, One who could meet his own with ease, For he ventured far and deep, forever destined to seek.

Friends or foes, Asked Poseidon a’woe, With pitchforks in hand, One laid down for the land.

Poseidon, come rise, Heal my broken stride, Lay your hands on the weak, Let the hour only speak.

As he spoke to himself, In long forgotten words, The endless abyss delved, Into the cave of the herds.

The ships crash beneath the waves, The pope is standing on the rails, The Kraken’s breath fully awakes, For he knows the secrets of capes.

God punishes those, From woes long ago, For it is time to observe, With a new mind the verse.

The mountain sings a forsaken song, A long forgotten ode to once so strong, As the sunlight dips beneath the skies, The song of the Valkyries wail their cries.

The great bane, Howling wolf’s mane, Stars sing of thee, Forsake life and flee.

I laid enveloped in nightshade, As the moonlight gates pried awake, For the truth came to me in a dream, As the midnight ghouls laid their seams.

The time is drooling on the plaster, the stations play the game of faster, no one is safe from death’s chokehold, not even the old cold.

As the monsters come out of my head, telling me it’s time for bed, one can only guess the hour of wake, as life is short and much at stake.

As I scroll past the midnight dawn, Reels galore, and one for song, Now step back, out of the shadows, As time comes, to visit the meadows.

The gates are decorated, With the shrubs of light, There is not but a smile in sight, For it is of course Christmas night.

Santa’s waiting by the chimney, Trying to learn what a rim means, As he eats the cookies he gets fatter, And that’s all on a grease platter.

Late at night photos, With the friends in my head, And who would ever know though, As I laugh til I’m dead.

As intuition leads me forward, And from the wrong onward, One comes to realize in the might just, That God is indeed righteous.

While the men piled up their boxes, and waited on the harbour, The foxes looked after them, now from the old arbor, And as the sea came crumbling, down from the lairs, The air was thickened, as it poured from the stairs.

There once was a pirate named Marrow, Who sailed the seas with his purple sparrow, And as he came upon the ancient Tortuga, The land was gone, for it had been eaten by a beluga.

Hailing from the Westbank Valley, there was a deranged man named Glacier. He was from a gathering called Unscrupulous Africans, and as he was summoned, he had a claymore. Once he swung it with all his might, his foes need not say more.

As he began to search for a job he looked far and wide, And saw a little coffee shop while there on the stride, All the floors were marbled and layered with gold, But what he saw next would not be ever told.

As it sifts through the debris, And folds the pieces together, There was not much to see, From the answering box to be.

The men planted their earth in the cove, As they praised for the God from all up above, For now they could bide only for hay, As they leaned on their rake and called it a day.

The local had crowded with some men from the town, As a lamp started snickering and then it went down, They caught the glimpse in the wake of an eye, As the sun was now gone and autumn was nigh.

They say Satan threads behind closed doors, Weaving in baskets for all of the floors, While the angels of above seek to find one dove, Woven into existence from the all above.

We must all earn our blood by gashes, And to find the luck of the world is to be true in, As great men are built from ashes, And weak men fall to ruin.

Dragon scales are always needed, The writhing bushes shall be seeded, As one makes himself into a name, The fire can be of the good flame.

While the rainbow dragon’s barrel, Sits at the end of a hollowed out burrow, He speaks of his fabled old quarrel, With the wily lost old squirrel.

By the ceaseless confines of war, Men of good and men of yore, Stand by your nuns, And allow of your sons.

As I sit back and wile, Watch my style, As it comes through from the clouds, Lifting you up out of your shrouds.

Welcome to the wonderland, I hope you had a grand stay, Now throw away the key and chain, And take some vacation photos for your pane.

As I peer into the emerald veil, I was greeted by a haunting gale, It sang the stories and tales of gold, By the old quarrel that never told.

Davy Jones sits at the bottom of the sea, Waiting for the breeze to take him to trees, While he sits and waits he fiddles on profusely, As his locket kept him through all of the uses.

As the elders built up their hoards, The peasants sat beneath their lords, As the one who spoke highest of truth, Now sits contorting the minds of youths.

One spoke existence in by earthly means, The other breathed fire into the seams, Third made life with the earth and blood, Alas the world was raptured from a flood.

As the golden gods created the sky, With everything to live and to die, No single tear was made for the tame, That didn’t flow through their veins.

The birds never paid for the bill, So I gave them the one for a thrill, They don’t like to see the flight, As even confidence has a copyright.

The other half is soaring high, The golden flower touching the sky, Anything on earth is mine to do, As I see through all false and true.

Walking alone in the misty forest’s path, Armoured up to the neck for wars wrath, Sitting on my shoulder waiting for ghouls, Stand guard to fight or die by sword rules.

In the depths of the mountain I saw the shade, A haunting opening that wasn’t man made, As the walls echoed with the sound of rain, It was all so alluring even though it only brought me pain.

As his head cracked in the clouds, Fireworks bursted from the shrouds, And all the people cheered on wild, As if the fourth of July was only ever mild.

Lucie ran up on me in a button suiter, So I kung fu kicked him now in the hooter, His head flew back at least three miles, While I looked at it fly it lost its pretty smiles.

As the dog flew back in to the breeze, The howler passed me a roller for the ease, A taxi pulled on us and out he came, The same old Devil with the same old name.

As the shroud of Turin fell from the sky, A saw a singer at the corner on a stride, The dog came back and bit my ass, So I turned around and gave him a dash.

As soon as I touched the land of our God, I pulled my parachute and went on down, As the airship in the sky blew with a frown, I landed in a town just to see the damn dog.

As he read it out loud we hopped onto a cloud, And he asked us to follow him for the ride, The airship took off and I saw onto his shroud, That he was the conjuring Lucifer in the skies.

The mailman was knocked hard down, And out of his pocket an envelope fell, So naturally Jesus went and took it up, As then the wine started to flow into our cups.

As red one sat back and drowned in a flood, The mailman came down with the spuds, Laid them on a table and swallowed them whole, When again came Jesus down with his sole.

Said now Devil be gone or dad will kick you, Satan said no and in came the issue, Seventeen dead in a trainwreck fire, Just as the Lord had cut the wire.

It was Jesus from Nazareth in sandals clean, Who just escaped from the Vandals mean, We bid him aboard and on which he came, He then sat next to the old window frame.

It was Satan again on a landline, Stretching from the bow to the old mine, Down the tunnel we all went skiing, As we stumbled on another human being.

I ran to the captain on merrie’s ship, He was high as a kite and took a flip, As the water splashed up to my eyes, Mirages came greeting to our surprise.

They were all on their way to the golden merry, When I jumped on back of the high hill ferry, There were caviar boxes loaded with wines, As Rasputin sat there just drowning in Rhines.

So I grabbed on the udders of a cow, Milk sprayed his eyes and old unibrow, He followed me up down to the guests, As they sat all in their cushioned nests.

No that was my mother’s recipe you hear, I’d never give it away it was way too dear, I’ll offer you the bread with smeared on cod, He didn’t take it too kind and grabbed a rod.

As a prism stares at me flowers and gold, I left to search the key when it was told, I’d never make it back out there alive, Less I told him the secrets of autumn chive.

As I ran after him in my dark blue socks, The man was fast and had on crocks, He hopped on a door that went to a dungeon, As I followed him there into a conundrum.

As we made our way to the dining hall, A wall began to grow 10 feet tall, As Rasputin stood there in dark green robes, He stared at me and took my clothes.

I had searched for a place to find near, When up came to me a well dressed deer, It rode to the mountains and opened a gate, Said you’ll find a dinner party so don’t be late.

I went out to the sea high on a tide, A surf came down tipped the boat on the side, I rode on a shark and made it to land, It was a foreign place with an emerald strand.

As the rain called for another day, I decided to way to the older bay, Where the fishermen towed lines of gold, And told of stories of the waves that unfold.

As the wind carried him away, I heard him cry shout and say, This is not the end for me, You’re bound to me for all eternity.

The locket came to a freeze, And a blizzard came from the trees, Who knocked Lucie standing all alone, As he flew off the west coast in his bones.

He reached in to his pocket, And pulled out a locket, That once belonged to Davy Jones, It was filled with much of pretty stones.

The man was standing there, With a tear tied to his ear, And a vase clinging by his side, He said young man we’ll go for a ride.

They were old friends as it turned out, They had known each other from the south, He went and grabbed my boots as I ran, As luck would have it I ran into another man.

The well was jewelled with lots of stones, As a hidden crown with lots of bones, As the Devil came in from the yard, It came nigh time to get the old Alucard.

The stray was Lucie himself I mused, Judging from the buttons on his shoes, Ready to take me back to hell, Just as I ran into the oil well.

So now I’m down in Syracuse, Seeking for a girl to call my fuse, I met a lad who knew a lay, And a stray dog bit me had turned to clay.

The Roseberry bush was caught on fire, So I hatched on an urn and gave it a spire, The fire extinguisher was always in use, So I left for a hotel in now the old Syracuse.

Then Peter peered down, Beneath the stairs and said, I see you got the slippers on, For a neat of them nicer chairs.

Then God said unto him, You’ve been one dim caper, Sir that’s true maybe for the paper, As he sent me down forever and for later.

Now I’ll tell you about, The key of rings before, While we make our ways, To the all heaven of doors.

I left my hometown back in old Russia, And came back cool just to miss ya, I flipped the train to the stadium ball, I’m so tried out and my shoes won’t crawl.

As Moses once said to John, Look at these here bushes, I said great Moses I have, But I really love her lashes.

It rained and it poured, As the bird flew by, He had not said his byes, Though least he gave all tries.

Writing my wrongs, in Galapagos thongs, While the sister blue, Rambunctiously ques.

As time grows old, And stillness becomes rule, The eyes start to cool, And idols become fools.

Lust is akin, To the devil Satan, A spirit fills you to a breeze, Like a captain far at sea.

A watercolour is on, The slip and slide, As the moonmen rake, For their hidden dice.

The arses lay before, The doors of sakes, As the Lord’s kept to, On the brider’s cake.

I’ve always had lofty ambitions, As I set off to make this my mission, Should I die or fate turn out worse, I have turned this gift into my curse.

We all lay down to sleep, But I can’t tell you how my soul’s to keep, And what we do when we’re awake, Or if time will tell the truth from fake.

Just tell me flowers in the bed, And give your flowers their head, As the ice between the window, Comes down like your folklore just had.

Romance sailed us by, As minutes passed as days, Possessed by the feeling, We were smitten by its haze.

Destruction came with haste, As by prophets foretold, Chained by city gates, The ruins began to unfold.

His sceptre lay broken, By the dungeon’s gates, As the midnight riders, Ashed the cities to waste.

The whirlwinds of strife, Will have hold in our life, All from the moment we breathe, Til the soul bides her leave.

The stars sang softly, In the ghostly loft, As payed of pipers, Payed for the shots.

Port windows agaze, As the sea it raptured, In the wave of the god, Neptune was captured.

Through the mystic haze, Life has seen better days, But I am not to blame, For my long and wicked ways.

The Golem left the candle on, At the break of dawn it was bright, He could not find the tears to sob, So instead he took up flight.

To shelter from the storm, In an outhouse or a dorm, I left my seat and came back, To find the weather much too strong.

The tides let out, Their ebb and flow, As God laid down, His sacred Roads.

The cottonfield rested, Her gentle eyes, As the moonlight came, To bid her byes.

The lust of the oasis, Stared back into mine, While the dreams of the desert, Became the time.

As the void, Fills up the brim, The elves and witches, Take their swim.

Beyond these empty horns, Lies the pisces of thorns, Of my vacant out dues, And hollowed out rues.

The Kashmir clouds, Up above the sea, Reminds the time, Where you met me.

As the corn of the fields, Kept their sowing, The ladies in the kitchen, Planted their bows in.

The smiles of the Mayflower, Brought back the land, Just as the pilgrims, Scoured the desert strands.

You heard Joseph Stalin, Was wrapped in Panamanian gifts, And he heard his calling, The letter that you sent to was his.

Now I sit back, With the ink and blood, And let the pen speak louder, Than the toil and mud.

As the sun sets down, And the moon ticks faster, The light and shadows, Abide by their master.

As light goes through, the fight subdues, and right becomes good.

And so he sat there, with his long gazing stare, of the cold abyss, that he ventured and dared.

The lhama’s speaking in the courtyard, Telling me to come visit the trees, and the orchards.

Great artists steal.

While money hears, With all open ears, You might not swear, When you come too near.

To tell the truth, You must tell a lie, To find the Lord, You must die inside.

The crown of thorns, Waits for the dawn, A fiery road with embers torn, As the birds flock with their song.

The lightning strikes, Above the sea, As waves in rise, Come to a freeze.

Vivacious cloths, soft as embers, and hard as frost.

And just as Steve said to Eve, The Apple’s free, But it’l hurt your teeth.

It’s always like this, And wouldn’t you guess? I’m the devil in a new dress.

And when you close your eyes, and count to three, life is lost, and found with ease.

For the hundredth time I ask myself, God are you sure?

Gilded rose petals, Pistol shots on dead vaults.

And so I take my leave, As the sun begins to heave, Backwards towards the sky.

I left my home, And discovered a place, Of waterfalls and pitroars, You’ll have to sit course.

I can see you, In the mirror so clear, The reflection is near, Close to my heart and dear.

Tell me more, great captain, Did the sea really tremble? Did the gates at midnight ramble? Did you call in, just to say you’re mine?

I hear the eucalyptus trees, Talking silently to the breeze, What they speak is not for me, But for the one of eternity.

The skies are falling, With them the calling, Your love is too foreign, It’s like a penny in a far end.

The frogs bark at the moon, They’ll come to visit soon, Tell me more about the tombstone blues, Where one lit a match for the hues.

The language of diaspora, Only God knows, But the language in question, Is of the soul.

As they all lay yeeted, Lying all but defeated, He began to sing his song, What the fuck is going on.

Sing to me in my dreams, Nothing is as it seems, To one who sees all can be, A figment of the eternity.

Neptune with her pyramids, Shadows bright, of amethyst, Spells bound, breaking light, Wandering silently in the night.