Give Me War

Have you ever looked,

at a woman,

so cordial in her essence?

You feel as though,

your presence,

could hinder her sunlit portrait.


A vision,

continues to play;

where you inevitably taint this pristine brush.


A brush,

that has never truly been held,

in an artists soft,

and passionate grip.


A brush,

that has yet to absorb,

every coloured emotion,

under the dynastic sun.


A brush,

that has never loved,

until the principles of sanity,

have been brought under question.


And I have finally come to realise,

why intimacy is a burden,

upon my soul.


The first steps,

towards an intimate bond,

are the most arduous,

I will ever have to take.


Give me war.

Give me hardship.

Give me pain.

But do not give me the power,

to decide her fate.


I know,

that her perfected perceptions,

of love,

may eventually break.


For I have tainted,

too many pristine brushes,

in my wake.

So I remain an artist,

without a brush to paint.

A Thousand Lives

I’ve lived a thousand lives before this.

I have thought an infinite amount of thoughts.

The somber birds, melodise their notes from a distance,

to the image of you, 

is where I am brought. 

Before I enter this right of passage, 

there is one but small request.

 To leave the vows of deceit and anguish,

at this illustrious gate, 

which accepts no hells.

 I have walked along this residual path, 

more than my memories care to remember.

 So vivid, is this image of you, 

the only form of poetry in this ethereal shelter.

 Here they take no currency in manipulation.

As I begin this journey,

 in debt to my past.

Without a form of spare change in my pockets, 

 my face tenses,

remembering the conflicts against her cries. 

How can one, be ever so foolish,

when they discard the echoes of the soul?

Which gifts the egotistic man, the knowledge,

that his evasions, shall be his downfall? 

He continues to walk idly, 

amongst his capital cities.

 Whilst war rips through his colonial lands.

 Now he walks, 

through the wrongs of passage. 

Where the heart of his lover, 

is nowhere to be found.

blue mist

here, I am enwrapped by my mortality.

forgotten tastes, on palettes of the tongue.

light colours, congregate, at the bridge which rises at dusk.


small yachts, bask above the purple satined river.

charcoaled, gradually by the night.

Filters of existence, fading in and then out.


We turn to our dreams, where we are exposed to the auras of former lovers.

Their faces, contoured,


in the neon blue mist.


Oh how we have missed,

the outlines.

The rushed seconds of grandeur, elapsed with a blink.


The smallest things.

Like the lips, we have never kissed.

The absence of “good nights.”

Walks above the cobbles in the old, old town.


Where lovers, they drink,

into the nocturnal hours.

Beneath their indiscriminate,

mortal sky.

in all of her sins.

I remember those days,

 when I used to hold her in arms.

this fragile flower,

 surrendering her eyes,

 to my heart.

yet in truth,

 we were really worlds apart.

the mind how it tricks,

 the most sweetest of loves.

and doubt becomes the general,

 that crushes the soul.

unable to picture our romance,

 ever growing old.

at the embryonic stage,

 of every relationship.

is a power you believe,

 will resist any struggle.

those were the days,

 where love was blind,

and guidance was lacking.

if time could be reversed, 

my name would be,

 first on that list.

as I walk,

 through the city.

I feel the wind cutting my skin.

Mother nature,

 has a way,

of inflicting,

 the most minor of pains.

we would walk,

 along the river bed.

the birds reciting their hymns.

I would fall back,

 to admire this beauty,

 in all of her sins.


winter sun

trees bemoan the season of autumn.

every time,

 it comes around.

a part of its existence,

 falls to the ground.

leaves it vulnerable, 

cold and dazed.

like a broken soul,

when the heart breaks.

slowly as,

 the seasons change.

the tree begins,

 to breathe again.

so when you're left,

 exposed by love.

remember the naked tree,

 in the winter sun.

Metropolis Nights.

I remember,

walking into a shadowy,

 metropolis bar.

Along the capital’s veins.

 Where fluorescent lights, 

they flickered, 

like a rainbows beating heart. 

The jazzy blue.

The marvel green.

The impassioned red.


 the revellers,

crescent faces.


 by the charcoaled darkness, 

and coloured beams. 

On the faces,

 of empowered youth.

Nonchalant eyes, 

they wandered. 

Through the flow,

 of cosmic sound.

 I made my way, 

past vibrant bodies.

Whom the music had possessed,

in desire. 

Neglecting the musical twitch, 

conquering my own.

The embittered gin, 

introducing itself.

 To the state of the mind.

As I caught a glimpse of her face,

for the very first time. 

Her sclera, 


the dark essence,

 of her iris and her pupil.

A panther,

 in her elegance.

 Ruled by mystique, 

and by fire. 

With a royal confidence, 

she approached.

In Mediterranean voice, 

she whispered a sensual verse, 

close to my ear.

 Death black curls,

 thicker than rope.

 Strawberry lips.


to capture the eye.

Of anyone,

 who sought to gaze,

 at her regal stature. 

For is this not what this world, 

it seeks? 

A night of lust? 

A voice to speak? 

Exploration's through, 

foreign bodies and beds? 

To immerse in pleasure? 

To immerse in pleasure? 

until death.


she would stay awake for hours,

waiting for him to arrive.

to a plate of cold salmon,

and a bitter warm wine.

the mascara on her cheeks,

portrayed the scars,

 of a soul,

that became accustomed to lies.



 winter nights.

accompanied by romantic comedies,

and warm cups of chai.

deep down,

she knew,

he was the devil in disguise.

sat on a leather chair.

by the fire-place.

with a cuban cigar,

 in his hand.

her bloodied heart,

 in his mouth.


 in the only thing,

that made her feel alive.

for her mind,

 was tied to a world,

that cries out,

 for the heart to defy.

To let love,


To embrace,

 its demise.

as she stared,

 into his mesmerising,

 hazel eyes.

she could see an angel,


 to break out.

the demon resisted,

working over-time.

to deny her,

 the freedom to love,

to feel his sensual touch.

the imprisoned angel,

 remains in shackles,

behind his devious eyes.

and whenever she stares into them,

she falls,

 deeper in love,

 with the demon.

whom is guarding the divine.