I’m cheating on my dreams.
I’m seeing easy behind its back.
I’m still seeking prosperity but
I don’t think I’ll find it with easy by my side.
I barely think about my dreams.
Easy has me hooked up in routine.
I think of giving in,
throwing in the towel,
breaking up with my dreams.
They only promise promises.
But easy promises me security.
Easy says I won’t have to worry.
Easy doesn’t ask much of me.
Easy doesn’t take up much of my mind,
much if my thoughts,
but demands most of my time.
Why can’t I have both?
Take it easy with my dreams.
Have an awesome threesome;
Me, easy and my dreams.
But they can’t stand each other.
As soon as easy enters,
My dreams jump out the window.
As soon as my dreams knock,
Easy slips out the back door.
As time passes by and I fail to choose,
I find myself spending less time with both,
and spending more time with anguish.
But I need to check my spending;
my credit with the house is running out.




Transient; he was floating through existence; squeezing through time from one second to the next; never belonging to any one moment. He was looking for a home. A home he had never known but believed was out there waiting for him. Meanwhile, he simply survived. Hopping from day to day, cheating death on occasions.

He did not have a name, he had never needed one. This was because he didn’t stay in one place long enough to require a name. When asked, he would simply give the name of the last Inn he stayed at or the name of the last bridge he slept under. It didn’t matter to him what people called him, he would soon find the road again and be on his way.

He had lived sixteen years on this earth and ten of those years were spent on the road; on his quest to find a home, and a name – his true name – and whatever else he was looking for that could fill the void inside him.

Sometimes, after spending a long time in one place he started thinking that maybe it was time to give up on his quest. Time to anchor down and finally settle on a name. The name that had stuck with him the longest was Sam. It was the name given to him at the orphanage in which he spent the first six years of his life. When thoughts of stopping entered his mind, he knew it was time to move on.

His journey had started those ten years ago when he looked out past the endless fields that lay behind the Lost Souls Orphanage and just started walking. He kept walking and walking, never stopping, and till this day he was still on that same walk. Only interrupting it long enough to sleep and to put himself to the task of filling his belly.

Sometimes he wondered where it was that he was going; what would be waiting for him when he got there; how he would know if he had arrived. During those times he looked out past the horizon and the feeling of ‘it doesn’t matter’ falls over him.

One day, a day like any other that found him on the road, he passed by a lonely farmhouse which seemed desolate and abandoned. Since it was starting to get dark and the night road was full of bandits, he decided to steal into the farmhouse and seek shelter for the night.

He made his way into the back-room of the farmhouse through a window; for he found the door to the front locked. The moon had come out and by its pale light manged to find a table and got on it to look for sleep.

He had hardly a chance to find his dreams when he heard it. A soft murmuring moan coming from the front room. At first he thought it was just his fancy or perhaps the wind. He stayed perfectly still, held his breath and listened keenly. He herd it again for sure. A soft muffled voice in the darkness.

He got up and walked towards the door that connected the two rooms, his body trembling in the moonlight. He tried the door and found that it wasn’t locked. He opened it slowly and by the light of the moon illuminating the room, he saw her.

She was an old lady wrapped up in a black shawl sitting on the floor looking through a window. She was chanting something under her breath. He tried listening to what she was saying but couldn’t make it out. It was from some language he couldn’t understand.

He was to her left and within her plane of vision but she didn’t seem to notice him. He spoke to her but she didn’t answer. He asked if she was okay but again, she wouldn’t answer. He decided to leave and as he was turning away, he heard her clearly speak one word – “Sam.” He spun around quick, quick enough that he saw the old woman dissolve from under her wrappings and disappear, leaving behind only her shawl.

He froze, numbed with terror. He didn’t know what to do. He had heard of stories of witches and sorcery while on the road but had never seen anything like this. Did the old woman really speak his long forgotten name? Maybe he had heard it wrong, but he was not mistaken about what he had seen.

He then saw something else. Something that caught the moonlight and glimmered from under the shawls windings. He stepped forward slowly but cautiously, surprised by his own bravery. Anyone else would have surely bolted into the night by now; but for some reason his curiosity compelled him or was it something else entirely that compelled him to move towards the glimmer, towards the unknown.

He picked up the item and saw that it was a dagger. A gold dagger with a smooth ivory handle like nothing he had ever seen before. There was something written on the blade. He strained his eyes to see in the moonlight. The letter lowly formed words and he was able to make out all words, they were:

Truth will lead you home. Falsehood will be your damnation.

He stood there wondering; all these question racing through his mind. Was he meant to come here? Who was that old woman? Was the dagger meant for him?  He didn’t know the answers but he felt he wouldn’t find them in that room. He would look for them on the road.

He didn’t feel safe in the farmhouse anymore, not prepared for anything else it might have in store. He got back out into the dark road, the fear of bandits gone. He strode into the night cautiously, still searching for his home; and now also chasing something else, a mystery. The root of the mystery tucked safely in his belt.


Swiss Kiss

Watch me as I leave you.
Watch me as I never come back.
Watch my shadows fade.
Hear my footsteps wane.
All that time I was interned.
Chained up by your words.
But now I’m finally free
and liberated from your guile.

Cherish the time you shackled me.
It’s all I’ll leave behind.
Memory is all you’ll have.
Scars are what I’ll take with me.
Too many hours spent.
Too many moments wasted.
Moments filled only with deceit.
False truths that tasted sweet like honey.

Our love is now dead.
Slowly smothered by your lies.
Now you Pack up your presence
and leave my thoughts.
Leave me as I try to forget you.
Try to forget that I ever met you.
Too late you called out to me.
Too late your shallow words appeared.
You never saw me while I was beside you.
Now you’ll never see me again.



Flying up above me.
Circling my heart.
Waiting for their next meal.
When they see an opportunity.
They swoop down.
And they feast.
Tear up my time with their beaks.

when they are done,
they fly away.
They promptly leave.
Taking most of me;
leaving none of themselves.
Behind them only bones.
Lonely bones.
Damaged bones.



I tried to remember what my final breath was like. What the oxygen had tasted like when I inhaled for the last time.

I could see the surface of the water. I tried to reach for it from underneath but it was too far away; beyond my reach. It got further and further as I descended. A thousand thoughts flooded my mind as I wondered whether this was it, whether my time was up. Then my hand, my body and my mind went limp and I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes; at least I think I opened them because I don’t think I had eyelids; I don’t think I had anything. I could see nothing, only nothing; bland nothing that was vast and endless. I didn’t know how I got there; I didn’t know what I was doing there; I didn’t want to stay in there, or was it out there. I was merely a presence; present nowhere.

The place – was it a place? – was ethereal. It was unlike any place I had been before but I had memory of it, at least I think it was a memory. It felt like I had been there before; like I had always been there.

I heard voices, at least I think I heard them, for I don’t think I had ears. I just knew the voices were there. I tried to walk towards them – How? I had no legs – I just thought of being where I wanted to be and I moved; at least I think I moved.

I didn’t find the voices; they were around me but not around me because I didn’t know which way was up. I didn’t know because I tried to turn myself up side, down side, but then I felt like where I began was where I ended.

I decided, at least I think it was a decision, at least I hope it was a though, to stay where I was. I stayed and waited; but I wasn’t sure I was waiting because I couldn’t tell if time was moving. Nothing was moving there, I don’t even think time was moving so I wasn’t sure I was waiting.

After – was it after? – I had tried waiting I decided, at least I remember it was a decision, to try to stop everything, try to die. I tried to close my eyes but the eyelids that were not there wouldn’t block the eyes which did not exist.

Th voices were relentless and were getting louder. I couldn’t stand these voices which were not there. I tried to block my ears but the arms which were not there couldn’t move to the ears which did not exist.

I decided – decided? – to give up and cry but I didn’t have a heart. I heart that could feel and tell my eyes which did not exist to shed tears. So I stayed there – here? – and tried to wait some more.

While I was trying to wait I felt myself move. I hadn’t decided to move; I was moving by some other power so I think I was afraid. It was as if I was being pulled by a thousand invisible soft strings. I didn’t know what was happening, but before, nothing was happening, so I did know.

I saw, I believe I saw, something in the mist, a shape; a shape that belonged with that voice. It seemed to be saying something, something I recognized. It was my name, the voice was calling my name. I tried to cry out but my mouth that was not there couldn’t carry a voice that did not exist.

Then all at once my eyes were open, open once again. I had eyelids; I had an arm and a hand. I had a mouth and I used it; used it to scream out. I screamed out because I felt a pain on chest; a pain like someone had been pounding on it.

They had brought me back, I was lying on my side coughing out water. My heart was racing, I had escaped from the nothing. All that nowhere was gone. I was back, back to seeing, hearing, touching, feeling. Back to paradise.


Easy Doesn’t

The rainy sky is not blue.
The meaningful page is not blank.
The lies you tell yourself will never be true.
The successful man is not well rested.
The great idea helps none while in your head.
The mistakes of yesterday are not with you today.
The girl you will love is not in your dream.
The beautiful sunrise is not at midnight.
The honest mouth is not closed.
The true story doesn’t have to be spoken.
The fulfilling journey is never short.
The sheltered man is not living.
The task wont be completed while you sleep.
The finished work was never willed into being.
The broad attractive road is a trap.
The promised day is not tomorrow, it’s today.

When you find living life is easy
then you are doing something wrong.


Save Me

Hey you passing by that tree
I need you to come and rescue me.

Look through my open door
See me lying here on the floor.

Step into the empty room
Fill it with your sweet perfume.

Wake me from my reverie
This bitter sleep which engulfs me.

Break my pact with the void
Leave my pain dead and destroyed.

Though my rent be paid in full
Drag me from this house so cruel.

Grab me by my stubborn will
Save me from the dark so still.

Make me one with the crowd
So I can once again live so proud.

Living peaceful by my lonesome
Has made my heart weary and numb.

Make me feel what I have never
Come set me free, for now and ever.



Everything wants it.
Everybody looks for it.
Everyone has to have it.

In actions.
In words.
In looks.
In silence.

Because of it;
The action tells a story.
The sweet word becomes a lie.
That lingering look turns into a proposal.
The silence tells more than a shout.

Without it;
A rose is just a flower, not a declaration.
A letter is just words, not an expression.
A road is just a path, not a promise.
A moment is made of time, not memories.

Without it, we are all hollow.
Look for it,
but only in meaning full places.



In the morning that’s cold,
see the woman that’s old.
She will show you a man that’s blue,
and tell you a story that’s true.

Entreat the girl that’s fair,
ask a question that’s bare.
She’ll take you to the room that’s sought,
and read you the letter that’s wrought.

Take the money that’s there,
shut the conscience that’s rare.
Blind yourself from the voice that’s proud,
listen to the pocket that’s loud.

Build a house that’s secure,
shelter the child that’s pure.
It will hide from pain that’s fear,
protect you from a fate that’s dear.

Go to the land that’s vast,
talk to the crowd that’s massed.
Veil them from the truth that’s denied,
only tell them the lie that’s kind.

Ask the question that’s hard,
get an answer that’s marred.
You will give them the news that’s clear,
tell them of the danger that’s near.

Put on the mask that’s grey,
convince the man that’s gay.
Hide from the history that’s past,
and wait for the future that’s cast.

Find the chamber that’s lost,
bring the treasure that’s glossed.
You will build a palace that’s grand,
and escape from a life that’s bland.


Brown Garden

Nothing grows.
Nothing grows in this garden.
Nothing grows in this everbrown garden.

Everything dies;
Seeds germinate and
tiny sprouts break through
from time to time.
But they are not nurtured
or sunned.

With time;
The roots all rot.
The leaves fall off.
Fed on by pests and
choked by weeds.

They wither as they are born.
The ideas die as they are born.

Nothing grows.
Nothing grows in this garden.
Nothing grows in this garden of the mind.