Silly Dreamer

Here's an ode to you, you silly dreamer.

You who try things others deem impossible.

You who never gives up despite the odds.

You who sees problems—and dreams up solutions.

You who… they call 'silly'—it is dangerous to dream.

Some stop caring altogether—but not you.

You are the silly dreamer because you care to dream.

Is that so silly?


A pearl of tear rolls off your cheek, never has before

A beast been slain without the faintest bloody warn

A man of strength felled by blade of coward

Stabbed in the back, a’ foaming affront

Tyger Alight

Tyger, tyger, burning bright,

Art thee force of Nature—fright?

Sing the children melodies—of joy, of odes, of dreams?

Dance they so endlessly, on boundless starry gleams?

Little Lamb O' Slaughter

Welcome Little Lamb.

Go now, produce!

What? Why?

Do not bleat, do not cry!

Why? Why?!

Simple Soothe

With bliss, I reminisce.

Remember, I do not.

Why am I so happy?

The thought of childhood.

Fairy Godmother

Last night I dreamt, so sweet.

I laid my tooth under my pillow.

Pregnant with expectation.

I slept so long, so sweet.

Woke up to the present.

Plenty Dreadful

Alone in the crowd of mindless ants, living like a dog.

The inane drudgery drives me insane.

I am no filthy animal.

I think.

I feel.

I am.

To Tinker A Thinking Machine

No man is an island, yet solitude I desire.

Looking down from on high.

My reign rumbling from the clouds.

My name heard in the thunder:

Deus Prometheus.

Faust’s Folly

‘What a bargain!’

Oh, so tempting.

Oh, I shouldn't.

A Bang & A Blur

Gone supersonic.

Life races me by.

Spaced Out

I don’t remember.

I don’t understand.

It’s all so hazy.

Tooth And Nail

Cold against the flesh.

Wraith and writhe.

Blood in the rain.


Forced Labour

In these depths of debt I wander.

Whereto? What for?

In these depths of debt I wonder:

What worth have I?

Fallen Out Of Favour

Who knew divination would be our damnation?

As the rain floods, I curse the damned clouds.

Am I barking up the wrong tree?

Please, wash my sins away.

Please, forgive me.

Please, salvage me.

Mollify The Machines

I am Human therefore I desire meaning.

The Human is redundant.

Space Oddity

On the drift, a rock in space.

In and out of time I float.

Stars wheeling overhead.

Where has their beauty gone?

Where do I belong?

I wonder.

I reminisce.

Oh, fabled bliss.

Sweet Lullaby

Imagine so, to weave a shade o’ shimmer sweet.

To live, to wake, perchance to float

Hence where dreams are

Sanctum Simulacrum

Is this here home comely?

Ah yes, it is.

A pleasure then?

Seems so… everywhere except at the seams.

Nag Me Plenty

What is wrong?

I know not.

Bothers me mad.

Loose The Lullaby

No longer can I stand the lie.

Palace o’ Pleasure, I bid you goodbye.

Why was I never content with all I got?

Ought I lay down my arms and die?

For is pleasure not God?

Must I suffer begot?

The Sweet Smell Of Bridges Burnt

In the image of complete perfection, I carved a scar.

The scar festered filthy—and I thought it good.

To burn it down.

Inner Drag

So burns the question: Am I wrong?

Perfection does not exist, yet there is nothing I want more than to live it.

I yearn to retreat to a perfect state—though it never truly was.

I struggle against my nature:

To want to be discontent.

To challenge my discontent.

Fire Of Rebellion

My destination is ever within my reach.

With each fire stoked, my hope burns the brighter.

We will build ourselves stronger.

We will conquer unimaginable challenges.

We will redefine what it means to be Human.

It is in our very spirit to long—for a better world.

To wonder what could be—better. To make it so.

No matter the challenge, we will flourish.

And if our light ever does fade, we mustn’t go out with a whimper.

But with a blaze of grand glory!

Life is folly. May it echo into eternity!

So Wither The Flowers

How miserable.

How some buds bloom into gorgeous flowers.

How some buds bloom in gloom.

How all buds are simply doomed.

The Fountain

Beyond-death beckons.

Immortality, or the afterlife?

Fount Everspring

From a songbird’s song, a sea sagged calm…

From the sunshine's edge, a sail o’ rose…

From a lonesome fern, a path took root...

…such strange sight I saw, quaint to a tee…

…so I sat and I loitered and such kind of things as spring sprang ever from Fount Everspring…

…such strong-willed souls who begged for me—to dance with them so desperately…

…so weary I was from such mirthful guffaws—so I puffed up my pillow and slept, not brief…

Going Nowhere

Feels like my life is going nowhere

I'm pushing the pedal, but I don't know whereto

It's suffocating to live this way

Sunshine In Suburbia

Concrete grass is a grand modernity—crass as the sunlight cracks.


In the warmth of the defining inferno, the psychopath remembered the cold spark of the universe

—and for the briefest of moments, doubted the loom of doom.

All The Bright Precious Things Fizzle Out With A Fuzz

That’s how it always goes:

All the bright precious things fizzle out with a fuzz.

Our whole lives amount to nothing but a sordid story.

We spend one third sleeping, dreaming of things that aren’t.

We spend one third working towards the things we dreamt of.

We spend one third justifying a vainglorious retrospect:

A grand display with nothing to show for.

Beyond The Pale Blue

In the howling night there was a harness of flame…

A firestorm hounding the heavens…

Touch wood, it ventures forth…

Beyond The Pale Blue…

Koan: These Are The Mysteries

This very message: Just bits strewn around a digital world. Like atoms, hard to locate exactly; where is this very message? And with the atoms? How to find a needle in an empty haystack? And how to locate a fabric in itself; do atoms and their fields not compose the coordinate, for do they not encompass all that which we call space?

Yet if everything is mostly nothing, just vast empty space betwixt, then why does the something outmatch the nothing? How does the insignificant become the dominant? And how is it, that life appears too to be betwixt two nothings?

Perhaps all is the potential to become; fields of could-be, transferred in the metaphor of physical being, to dream itself into permanence, to will itself into existence by charge of none to on, and these are the mysteries and the bits of the answers strewn around…

An Insignificant Quandary

Feeling like you don’t matter weighs heavy on the psyche…

How to keep oneself afloat without adding bloat to the head?

How to disregard oneself without neglect?

Humiliation, humility; what quality?

No order to our disorder.

Ah, humanity!