Streets of Japan

Taken a segway to desertion

Hourglasses filled with destruction

Fingerprints polluting my mind

Stealing volts of life to find

Parting seas of useless thought

Fixed in memories exquisitely fought

Silently searching in life's quagmire

Sweeping across guilded fire

Pitiful wonder at what has become

Singing curses to the rising sun

Unearthing damnation single-souled

Reliving all, after being told

Life's Web

Clarity shrouded

With clouds of illusion

Brevity of nirvana

Frozen into confusion

Inaction embarks

The first blush of dawn

Venus bejewled

Twisted rows put on

Delerium demanding

In likeness of another

Glory days Birthing

Chains left to sever

Buried delusions

Dried by the sun

Mirrored depths

Of Utopia on the run

The Life of Water

Sitting at the edge of a lake. Silence. The only sound daring to interrupt is that of the gentle waves lashing onto the shore. A momentous rhythm, as if the spaced clashing comes from the very core of this body of water. As if it is a calm heart beating against itself. The wind is bitter, carrying the dew of night meeting day. Silence. It opens the door to reverie and memories forgotten. The water eroding the rocks. Rocks from a crumbled mountain, of times when the world was not this world. Each particle is carrying a story. Each wave is stealing them into the depth of the ocean. Another part is taken away... another thought... another memory. Some might say, it's just a lake, and those are just rocks. It is a lake, and those are rocks, yet they hold alot more of something than we ever will. They hold time. They outlive us. They carry with them our presence, the presence of those before us, and the presence of the future. A fingerprint. A laugh. A tear. A memory. A life.

- The Product of Writer's Block

Phantasmagoria

A Dream

In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed;

But a waking dream of life and light

Hath left me broken-hearted

Ah! what is not a dream by day

To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him, with a ray

Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream, that holy dream

While all the world were chiding,

Hath cheered me as a lovely beam

A lonely spirit guiding.

What through that light, thro' storm and night,

So trembled from afar-

What could there be more purely bright

In Truth's day-star?

- Edgar Allan Poe

The Greatest Day

A little short of faith

Just a little jaded

It may seem far away

And all the lights have faded

Closer than the sea

To shores of memory

Describing a poverty

Souless and demanding

Win or lose

New lights in the making

Twice written memoirs

A life you belong to

This is all I see

Endless latency

Devastating joy

Caressing energy

Worlds unknown

When all is faded

Closer than the sun

To desert sands waited

A little short of faith

Let lights become unfaded

Believe in what you will

Conscience sated

Make a new day

Just a little jaded

Petals unfurl

Winds that sigh

Strawberry feilds

For you and I

Crossing the undertow

Finding love hated

Wait and see

Just a little jaded

Written

The same is set

a living one to get

Singing to one merit

shadows left to inherit

Soar above the shores

looking at what's in store

Envisioning the moment

crying out to seconds bent

Fixation engulfs its finest

in a glorified state of unrest

Some or none or all

Beckoned to your call

Ferver weaving through

of the many words to unskew

Felt, known, and never forgotten

imprinted on, branded upon, and molten

Here is to find the same is set

and still in need of a living one to get