The old sea god’s shrine


Upon the high green hill

Where the wild wind howls shrill

There stands a wooden shrine

Long washed out by the brine.

You must go defenseless

Or be fully senseless,

To face the old sea god

And he, immortal cod,

Will gift you in a strange

Mysterious orange

Rising upon the west

The answer to your quest;

Thy need no offerings

If true your question rings

Though beware of the pain

Which comes with what you gain,

Oh you must remain strong

For what’s right can be wrong…



The luminator


The man who lights the streets


In city streets which span

Score leagues, intertwining,

There is a lonely man

Who roams the late evening,

He sees the day dying

And the birth of its twin,

Both discreetly prying

Over the city’s sin,

There, on the desert roads,

In the midst of silence

He protects the abodes

With his magical lance

From the cold and the dark,

From this fear ever old;

For when glows the bright spark

The nightmares, back, must fold.


Moments inbetween


It is in these quiet moments inbetween

That I catch myself hoping for something still,

I don’t know if it is something I have seen

Something I have heard or even remembered

And no matter how I try or how I will

Myself to let go, oh they will have lingered

These feelings I wish for but cannot forget,

These dreams I would die for but will never get…




How aeons pass in an instant,

Many a universe is born

Before fading in the distant

Cold and silence of the forlorn,

A single word, a single note,

Gives way to myriads of beliefs

To which I heartily devote

Before they fall to the ground – leafs,

It lives, it dies, I hope, I part

My mind explores the many ways

Of this old, ever-changing maze

Oh it is no science but art;

Only fools make their existence

The sole seeker of emerald light

That glimmers into the distance

While basking in the dark blue night

Instead of pursuing the sun,

Instead of living out the song,

We drown the music out and shun

All that is right with all that’s wrong…


Troubled young mind


Oh how I would like to say

That I am now not in love

But there is no other way

Than to soar up high above,

Oh how I would love to feel

Not this bright warmth in my heart

And easily come to part

With this Achilles’s heel,

Oh how would life be simple

If it were not this reason,

My body is my temple

But my mind is my prison,

Oh how tranquil a voyage

Life would be from this bubble

Though should one sail through their age

Without the tumult of trouble?


Toi l’inconnue


Toi l’inconnue

qui à ma vue

grand me sourit

me rendant vie

je remercie

du fond du cœur

toi celle-ci

qui ce jour là

le temps d’une heure

de l’au-delà

a réparé

mon âme lasse

m’a déterré

avant qu’un soir

seul dans le noir

je ne trépasse.


Toi l’inconnue qui sans façon

M’a donné quatre bouts de toi…



As I travel around

Moving fast on the ground

My body, my mind

And my wanting heart

Appear to come apart,

Wherever I am going

A piece of my being

Seems to lag behind

It thirsts for adventure

But there is a rapture

Between its desires

That which it admires

In body I am far

Far beyond heavens blue

And in mind now I soar

Towards where wild winds blew

Yet in heart still the star

Is none other than you.


Boredom : mind in one place, heart in another.

Brincess Pride


With threads of night

And of autumn

You are a sight

Top to bottom

A robe of blood

And of ashes

An opaque flood

From fresh gashes

A pandora

And a young child

Oh the aura

Of a wolf wild

You are a strong

Lost little sheep

Righting the wrong

That run so deep

Out of the mold

Onto the earth

Lone on the wold

Shines bright your worth.




Upon the darkest shore

At the end of the world

Where space and time are curled

And play a yearning score,

Walks a lone silhouette

Looking to the yonder,

Beginning to wonder

If all the rules are set,

During ages long past

When beings of high birth

Would roam upon this earth

And long, dark shadows cast,

Their single thought was truth,

Their single word was law,

But now it all feels raw,

Unfinished and uncouth.

However not all’s lost

There is still a small hope,

A straw at which to grope

Until all paths are crossed…



Nigh errors


At night come the terrors

From this strange, eerie calm,

From the broken mirrors

Dancing into my palm,

I am the conductor

Of this mad orchestra

But too the destructor

Of my only mantra;

Upon the lone high hill

Of silence and soft glow

Follows, patient and slow,

Ready to pounce and kill,

A predator of old

Born from a heart of gold

In an ancient forest,

As god it will no rest

Until all is made right,

Only an offering,

– Forgotten ancient rite –

Can quench its endless thirst,

Unless it cuts my string

With its bloody teeth first…